“Ma’am?”
“I mean hypothetically.”
Mr. Avery stopped the recording.
Brenda looked drained.
Judge Morland stared at her.
“You asked that before filing.”
Brenda’s eyes filled.
“I was angry.”
Almost a whisper.
My mother recoiled.
“What?”
Brenda pressed her hands against the table.
“I was angry.”
“At what?” I asked.
She finally looked at me.
And suddenly I saw fifteen years of comparison from the opposite direction.
“You weren’t supposed to be this.”
I frowned.
“This what?”
“Successful.”
My mother whispered her name.
“Brenda.”
But my sister had already started.
“You were supposed to have the normal life.”
Her voice trembled.
“The practical life. I was the one who went to Yale. I was the one everyone expected things from.”
I stared at her.
“And?”
“And then my marriage fell apart.”
Her eyes flooded.
“My career stalled. Mom and Dad still talk about Yale because it’s the last impressive thing I did.”
My father flinched.
Brenda laughed bitterly.
“And then somebody at a charity dinner mentioned Fitzgerald.”
I stopped breathing.
“She said Claire Hamilton was brilliant.”
Brenda looked directly at me.
“I thought it had to be another Claire Hamilton.”
“So you checked.”
“Yes.”
“And found me.”
