Page 25 of The Delivery

A smile. “I did it.”

“ You sure did ,” Mr. Man says.

Back to Maddy’s bedroom for stuffties sleep tight hugs. Then fluff pillows, tuck blankets to the chin, Horton Hears a Who! and Good Night, Gorilla. During Goodnight Moon, Maddy finds the mouse on each page, sounding out the words as Rebecca reads. Next it’s time for sleep-inducing nose pets and activating Pillow Pet’s projected stars on the ceiling. After they count the stars, it’s time to make wishes.

“I wish kids at school liked me,” Maddy says, without a trace of self-pity.

Protective fury flashes, and then Rebecca careens into utter heartbreak. It envelopes her like quicksand, promising to pull her down, her and everything else around her.

“They do like you, Maddysaurus.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Maddy says, with a spike of anger. “And don’t call me that. Not ever again.”

Rebecca recoils internally, a sea anemone curling into itself. She knows this isn’t about the nickname, that this is a venting of hurt, but even so, Maddy’s tone wounds her.

Before she can regain her composure, Maddy turns away, tucking in Mr. Fox. Then she settles back on the pillow and begins her nighttime affirmations: “My voice matters.”

Biting back tears in the semidarkness, Rebecca strokes her daughter’s silky hair.

“I tried my best today.” Maddy’s blue eyes are wide and thoughtful. “I did, Mommy. I really did.”

Rebecca makes sure to keep her voice even: “I know.”

Maddy tugs at Mr. Fox’s ears. “I am still growing and learning.”

Rebecca nods encouragingly.

And then, in the tiniest whisper: “I have what it takes.” Maddy curls her fingers around Rebecca’s thumb. “Mommy?”

“Yes, Maddysaur—” She catches herself. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“What if I don’t?”

Rebecca can barely manage words. “You do have what it takes.” Is it true? A half lie? A wish? “Of course you do.”

She kisses Maddy on the forehead and slips from the room.

Chapter 19

It is the first time Rebecca has left Maddy with Mr. Man. With Mark at work and the meeting with Sydney’s mother at 5:00 p.m., she has little choice. Maddy seems delighted to be with Mr. Man, and Rebecca will keep her phone on, and it will just be a brief visit.

The residence on North Tigertail Road is less house than estate. The sight of numerous luxury SUVs parked in the roundabout driveway gives Rebecca pause.

The front doors are enormous, two stories high, wrought-iron and glass, looking into a foyer the size of Rebecca and Mark’s backyard. A staircase sweeps up to floors unseen. On the landing wall, an enormous Lichtenstein beams red and yellow Ben Day dots. A beady black eye of a lens peers out from the modern doorbell, and yet the chime sounds throaty, like a medieval organ.

Footsteps patter.

An attractive woman appears, a pencil skirt constraining gym-slim hips, a glamorous cashmere cape swept around her sequin camisole, rakishly barefoot. Sydney’s mom—Sheila—waves; her other arm, bent angularly, terminates in a sleek bowl of white wine. Given the expanse, it takes some time for her to reach the door, and they hold eye contact through the glass. Rebecca shifts awkwardly on the porch, wishing she’d changed out of her mom jeans.

“You must be Maddy’s mommy,” Sheila says, her smile pronounced between sexy, augmented lips. Sheila offers an icy hug, contorting at the waist, head thrown wide, face turned away, a skeletal pat of Rebecca’s back. Her powerful perfume, lavender and citrus, calls to mind Derek’s wife, Alexa.

Mean Girls, Rebecca thinks, as she follows Sheila back.

A massive bearskin hugs the marble before a hearth the size of a Cybertruck. “Don’t worry,” Sheila says breezily, “not real.”

They pass staff everywhere, chefs moving briskly in the kitchen, maids scurrying past, cleaning crews dusting and bustling. A decorator-type resets basketballs in a tank of water, a Jeff Koons–like installation or, more likely, an actual Jeff Koons. A butler halts his progress to stand at attention against a wall as they pass. Rebecca’s midwestern upbringing flares, and she gives him a smile. He returns a nearly imperceptible nod.

Sheila leads Rebecca down a corridor wide enough to accommodate a subway train. “The girls and I are just down here,” she says, and Rebecca feels her stomach constrict at the notion of an ambush.