Chapter 3 - Norah’s First Rule
Roman Gallagher did not like being lied to.
He liked it even less in his own house.
Norah discovered that at seven the next morning.
She entered the breakfast room wearing the lavender staff dress Mrs. Finch had supplied.
The uniform felt strange after years of diner shirts and jeans.
Roman sat at the head of a table designed for fourteen people.
One espresso.
One newspaper.
No children.
He looked up.
“Sit.”
Norah remained standing.
“I’m working.”
“So am I.”
“That’s debatable.”
His eyes lifted slowly.
Norah pulled out a chair.
She sat.
Roman folded the newspaper.
“What happened last night?”
“The twins had trouble settling down.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what happened.”
“Ruby was frightened.”
“Ruby is frightened most of the time.”
Roman’s expression changed.
Norah continued.
“She hides it by making everybody else frightened first.”
“You’ve known her one day.”
“I’ve known children like her my entire life.”
Roman leaned back.
“And Theo?”
“Same thing.”
“You believe you understand my children better than I do?”
“No.”
A beat.
“I think I spend more time trying.”
That landed.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“You know nothing about what happens in this house.”
“I know your kids don’t think you’re available unless somebody is dying.”
Silence.
Norah realized she had crossed a line.
Then she decided she didn’t care.
Roman spoke quietly.
“I am keeping them alive.”
“They don’t know that.”
“You think I should explain assassination attempts to five-year-olds?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”
“Breakfast.”
Roman blinked.
Norah pointed at the empty chairs.
“Sit with them.”
“I have a meeting.”
“You have meetings every day.”
“My work does not stop because you have opinions about parenting.”
“No. But childhood stops whether you attend it or not.”
Roman stared at her.
Paul entered carrying a tablet.
He stopped when he sensed the atmosphere.
“I can come back.”
Roman did not look away from Norah.
“Cancel nine o’clock.”
Paul’s eyebrows rose.
Roman repeated, “Cancel it.”
Five minutes later, Theo and Ruby entered.
Both children froze when they saw their father.
Theo looked suspicious.
Ruby whispered, “Why are you here?”
Roman’s face tightened.
Norah pretended not to notice.
“Sit down,” she said.
Ruby climbed onto a chair beside Roman.
Theo chose the opposite side of the table.
Breakfast arrived.
Eggs.
Toast.
Fruit.
Pancakes.
The children watched Roman.
Roman watched his coffee.
Norah nearly sighed.
Then Theo reached for syrup.
Roman said automatically, “Not too much.”
Theo pulled his hand back as though burned.
Roman noticed.
The smallest rule had sounded like a command.
Norah passed Theo the syrup.
“Two circles.”
Theo poured carefully.
Roman looked at her.
She shrugged.
Ruby pushed strawberries around her plate.
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going away today?”
Roman paused.
“For work.”
“When do you come back?”
“Tonight.”
“You said that yesterday.”
Roman went still.
Norah stared down at her coffee.
Ruby continued.
“And before that.”
Roman put his fork down.
“Sometimes things happen.”
“Bad things?”
“Yes.”
“People shooting?”
Norah looked up sharply.
Roman’s face closed.
“Ruby.”
“What?”
“Eat.”
Ruby’s expression vanished.
The emotional door slammed.
She pushed back from the table.
“I’m done.”
“You barely ate.”
“Not hungry.”
Roman’s instinct was to order her back.
Norah saw it.
She shook her head slightly.
Roman caught the gesture.
His eyes narrowed.
But he stayed silent.
Ruby left.
Theo followed.
Once they were gone, Roman turned.
“You just told me not to correct my own daughter.”
“No. I told you not to chase her emotionally after she tried to talk to you.”
“What would you have me say?”
“The truth.”
“That men are trying to kill me?”
“The other truth.”
Roman looked genuinely confused.
Norah softened slightly.
“That you’re coming back.”
Roman stared at the doorway.
“I cannot promise things I may not control.”
“Then promise you’ll try.”
Roman stood.
“In my world, promises have consequences.”
“So do broken ones.”
He left.
Norah watched him go.
Paul remained.
“You enjoy dangerous hobbies?”
Norah sipped coffee.
“I work here.”
“Point taken.”
Paul sat.
“You should understand something about Roman.”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“He didn’t always look like that when his children spoke.”
Norah glanced toward him.
Paul’s humor disappeared.
“Evelyn was the center of that family. Roman adored her.”
“Did she know what he did?”
“Yes.”
“And stayed?”
Paul hesitated.
“That’s complicated.”
“It usually is.”
“She believed Roman could become something else.”
“Can he?”
Paul looked toward the door Roman had used.
“I don’t know.”
Norah spent the morning establishing rules.
Only four.
No hurting people.
No destroying things that belonged to someone else.
Ask before leaving the room.
Tell the truth when somebody could get hurt.
Theo studied the paper where Norah had written them.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“What if we don’t clean?”
“Then you don’t get new toys until the old ones are put away.”
Ruby gasped.
“That’s not a rule.”
“It’s a consequence.”
“What if we scream?”
“My ears still work.”
“What if we call you ugly?”
Norah shrugged.
“Then your insults need practice.”
Theo laughed.
Ruby almost did.
They spent the next hour cleaning the playroom.
The twins resisted at first.
Then Norah turned it into sorting.
Cars.
Blocks.
Books.
Stuffed animals.
Broken things.
When they reached the damaged dollhouse, Ruby grabbed it.
“Not that.”
Norah remembered the velvet pouch.
“Okay.”
She moved on.
At noon, the twins ate grilled cheese.
No screaming.
At one, they went outside.
At two, Ruby had a meltdown because Theo took a red marker.
Norah separated them.
No threats.
No shouting.
Ruby cried.
Real crying this time.
Norah sat beside her until it passed.
At three thirty, Theo asked the question Norah had been expecting.
“When do you leave?”
“Later.”
“No. Forever.”
Norah looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
Theo’s face tightened.
“Everybody knows.”
“No, they don’t.”
“You’ll quit.”
“Maybe someday.”
His eyes darkened.
Norah crouched.
“But I won’t disappear because you throw something.”
Theo said nothing.
“You don’t have to test me every hour.”
“What if we’re bad?”
“That’s not how this works.”
“What if we’re really bad?”
“You’ll still be children.”
His lower lip trembled.
Norah realized suddenly that this was the center of it.
The tantrums.
The biting.
The broken windows.
The screaming.
The fire.
If we become impossible, will you leave too?
Theo looked down.
“Mommy left.”
Norah’s chest tightened.
“She didn’t choose to.”
Theo’s eyes filled.
“She said she would come back.”
Norah swallowed.
“Adults sometimes make promises they mean completely.”
“Then why didn’t she?”
Norah had no good answer.
So she told the truth.
“Because something terrible happened.”
Theo stared at her.
Norah placed a hand on the carpet between them.
Not touching him.
Just close.
“That doesn’t mean she lied.”
Theo’s fingers moved toward hers.
Then stopped.
A shadow appeared at the doorway.
Roman.
Again.
Watching.
Norah stood.
Theo immediately changed.
Shoulders tight.
Face blank.
Roman noticed.
His son had been crying with Norah.
Now he looked like a miniature version of Roman himself.
Protected by silence.
Roman entered.
“Theo.”
“Hi.”
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
The lie was immediate.
Roman looked at Norah.
She said nothing.
Ruby ran in carrying a sheet of paper.
“Daddy!”
Roman turned.
Ruby held up a drawing.
Four stick figures.
Two small.
One woman with yellow hair.
One tall man.
Roman stared.
“Who’s that?”
Ruby pointed.
“Theo.”
Then herself.
Then Norah.
Roman waited.
Ruby pointed at the tall figure.
“You.”
Roman’s breathing changed.
“You drew me?”
Ruby frowned.
“You’re Daddy.”
Roman looked at Norah.
Norah smiled slightly.
Ruby suddenly ran toward him and thrust the paper against his chest.
“Don’t fold it.”
Roman took the drawing as though it were made of glass.
“I won’t.”
Ruby ran away again.
Roman remained still.
Norah began gathering crayons.
“You can breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Barely.”
Roman looked at the picture again.
Then his gaze moved toward the dollhouse.
The tiny roof was slightly open.
Norah’s heart skipped.
Roman stepped toward it.
Ruby appeared from nowhere.
“No!”
She threw herself between him and the dollhouse.
Roman stopped.
Ruby’s face had gone white.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Roman crouched.
“Ruby.”
“No!”
She shoved the dollhouse behind her.
Roman’s expression sharpened.
Norah moved closer.
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
She shook her head.
“Not now.”
His instincts screamed at him to demand answers.
Instead, perhaps remembering breakfast, Roman stood.
“Fine.”
He left with Ruby’s drawing still in his hand.
That night, after the twins fell asleep, Norah returned to the playroom.
She intended only to check the window locks.
But as she passed the dollhouse, she noticed something on the carpet.
The red velvet pouch.
It must have fallen out.
Norah stared at it.
She should have put it back.
Instead, she heard Ruby’s words again.
Mommy said if the bad man came back, the key would keep us safe.
Norah picked up the pouch.
Inside was a silver key.
And a folded piece of paper.
Norah opened the paper.
Two words were written in a woman’s handwriting.
Green room.
Below them was a string of numbers.
Then a name.
Norah’s blood ran cold.
Because she recognized it.
She had heard Roman use that name on the phone earlier that morning.
A man Roman clearly trusted.
A man who had entered the estate twice that day without being searched.
Victor Sloane.
Behind Norah, the playroom door clicked shut.
A male voice said softly:
May you like
“You really should have left that where you found it.”
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