Chapter 2 - THE CHAIR WITH SOPHIE’S NAME
Daniel looked at Ava.
“What happened to Sophie’s chair?”
Melissa answered before the child could.
“Nothing happened to Sophie’s chair.”
Ava stared at the floor.
Daniel noticed.
“Ava.”
Melissa’s voice sharpened.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Daniel turned.
“I asked Ava.”
The dining room had gone completely silent.
Twenty-three people watched him.
Melissa’s mother, Patricia, slowly lowered her wineglass.
Her brother, Ryan, sat beside his ten-year-old son, Ethan.
Ethan was in the chair immediately to Daniel’s left.
Daniel looked at it.
A navy ribbon had been tied around the back.
He hadn’t noticed before.
Actually—
He had.
He just hadn’t thought about it.
Three days earlier, Sophie had spent an hour making place cards for Thanksgiving.
Daniel remembered her sitting at the kitchen island with blue markers and glitter.
DAD.
MELISSA.
GRANDMA PATRICIA.
ETHAN.
She had proudly shown him every one.
There had been one with SOPHIE written in silver letters.
Daniel looked at the table.
“Where are the place cards?”
Melissa sighed.
“I changed the seating.”
“Why?”
“Because my parents wanted to sit closer together.”
Daniel looked at Ava again.
“What happened to Sophie’s chair?”
Ava whispered:
“It was there this afternoon.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“This afternoon?”
Ava nodded.
“She put the blue ribbon on it.”
Melissa went pale.
Daniel stared at the child.
“Who?”
“Sophie.”
The dining room disappeared around him.
“What time was Sophie here?”
Ava glanced nervously toward Melissa.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“About three.”
Daniel slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“You told me Sophie was spending Thanksgiving with Claire.”
“She is.”
Ava shook her head.
“No.”
Melissa snapped:
“Ava, enough.”
Daniel’s voice cut across hers.
“Do not tell her to stop.”
Rosa appeared in the kitchen doorway, frozen.
Daniel looked back at Ava.
“What happened at three?”
The little girl clutched the edge of her paper plate.
“Sophie came with a bag.”
“What kind of bag?”
“Her purple overnight bag.”
Daniel knew it.
Sophie used it every weekend she stayed with him.
“She had a pie too.”
Daniel’s chest tightened.
Sophie had called him Tuesday asking whether he still liked apple pie better than pumpkin.
He had barely listened.
He’d been in the back of a car between meetings.
He had said:
“Apple. Always apple.”
Then told her he loved her.
Then ended the call.
“Where did she go?”
Ava looked toward the foyer.
“Miss Melissa talked to her.”
“What did she say?”
Melissa stepped forward.
“This conversation is over.”
Daniel looked at her.
“It is absolutely not over.”
Patricia finally spoke.
“Daniel, perhaps this is better handled after dinner.”
He turned toward her.
“My daughter arrived at my house for Thanksgiving and somehow disappeared before I knew she was here.”
He looked around the table.
“Nobody is eating another bite until I know what happened.”
Ethan suddenly stopped looking at his plate.
Daniel noticed.
“Ethan?”
The boy’s father immediately said:
“Leave him out of this.”
Daniel ignored Ryan.
“Did you see Sophie?”
Ethan nodded.
“Did she sit here?”
Another nod.
Daniel’s eyes moved to the chair.
“Then why are you sitting there?”
The boy’s face turned red.
“Melissa told me to.”
Melissa closed her eyes.
Daniel felt something cold settle inside him.
Ava spoke quietly.
“Sophie made the place card before she left.”
Daniel looked toward her.
“What place card?”
Ava pointed beneath the sideboard.
Daniel walked over.
Something silver glittered behind one of the legs.
He crouched.
Pulled it out.
A folded piece of blue cardstock.
SOPHIE.
A tiny turkey had been drawn underneath.
The corner was bent.
There was a shoe mark across the front.
Daniel stared at it.
Melissa spoke behind him.
“She was upset and threw it.”
Ava shook her head.
“No.”
Daniel stood.
“Then what happened?”
Ava swallowed.
“Miss Melissa threw it away.”
Daniel looked at his fiancée.
The room seemed to shrink.
Melissa’s face hardened.
“This is absurd.”
“You threw my daughter’s place card on the floor?”
“No. I put it in the trash because Sophie wasn’t staying.”
“Why wasn’t she staying?”
“Because there was a misunderstanding.”
“What misunderstanding?”
Melissa crossed her arms.
“She thought she was supposed to be here.”
Daniel stared.
“She was supposed to be here.”
“No, Daniel. You said last week it might be easier if she spent Thanksgiving with Claire.”
“I said Claire could have her if Sophie wanted to go.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“That is not the same sentence.”
Ava looked toward Rosa.
Her mother was crying silently now.
Daniel took out his phone.
Twenty-three missed notifications.
Emails.
News alerts.
Two calls from his chief operating officer.
Nothing from Sophie.
He opened his messages.
No new texts.
Then he opened blocked contacts.
SOPHIE WHITMORE.
Daniel stopped breathing.
He stared at the screen.
His own daughter’s number had been blocked.
“What the hell?”
Melissa’s face changed.
“What?”
Daniel held up the phone.
“Why is Sophie blocked?”
“I have no idea.”
“You were using my phone all afternoon.”
“I changed the music.”
“You put it in the kitchen drawer.”
“Because you said you wanted one dinner without work.”
“That doesn’t explain this.”
He unblocked Sophie.
Immediately, twelve messages flooded in.
3:07 p.m.
Dad, I’m here.
3:12.
Are you upstairs?
3:19.
Melissa says I got the day wrong.
3:24.
Dad?
3:31.
Can you please answer?
Then a photograph.
Sophie standing in the Whitmore foyer.
Purple bag over one shoulder.
A glass pie dish in her hands.
She had taken the picture in the mirror.
Her eyes were red.
4:02.
It’s okay if you don’t want me there. I just wish you told me yourself.
Daniel sat down.
Not because he wanted to.
Because his legs suddenly wouldn’t hold him.
The next message was from 4:16.
Grandma Helen came to get me.
His mother.
Daniel immediately called.
She answered on the second ring.
“Daniel?”
“Is Sophie with you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
He looked at his phone.
Nothing.
“Three times.”
Melissa.
His mother continued.
“Melissa answered once.”
Daniel stared at his fiancée.
“What did she tell you?”
“That you had changed plans and Sophie was upset.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“Put Sophie on.”
Another pause.
“She’s asleep.”
“At seven at night?”
“She cried for almost an hour.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
The dining room was completely silent.
Helen’s voice softened.
“What happened?”
“I’m coming.”
“Daniel—”
“I’m coming now.”
He ended the call.
Melissa grabbed his arm.
“You’re leaving?”
He looked down at her hand.
She let go.
“My daughter thought I sent her away from Thanksgiving.”
“I was trying to avoid a scene.”
“A scene?”
“Sophie doesn’t like Ethan.”
Daniel looked at the boy.
Ethan immediately stared at his plate.
“Why doesn’t she like Ethan?”
Melissa didn’t answer.
Ava did.
“Because he broke her snow globe.”
Daniel turned.
“What snow globe?”
“The one from her mom.”
His chest tightened.
Sophie’s mother, Claire, was alive.
But the snow globe had been from Sophie’s late maternal grandfather, who died two years earlier.
She treasured it.
“When?”
“Last weekend.”
Daniel looked at Ethan.
The boy’s eyes filled.
“It was an accident.”
Ryan finally stood.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That your son broke something important to Sophie?”
Ryan shrugged.
“Kids break things.”
“And did anybody tell me?”
No answer.
Melissa stepped between them.
“This is exactly why I thought Sophie spending one holiday with Claire would be better.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You didn’t send Sophie to Claire.”
Melissa’s face tightened.
“You sent her away from me.”
He walked into the kitchen.
Rosa stood beside Ava.
Daniel looked at her.
“Did Sophie eat anything?”
Rosa hesitated.
“A cookie.”
“That’s all?”
“She didn’t want anything else.”
Ava whispered:
“I gave her mine.”
Daniel looked at the little girl.
“What?”
“My cookie.”
His throat tightened.
Two children had apparently spent Thanksgiving feeding the people his house had excluded.
Daniel took his coat.
Then looked toward the dining room.
“Dinner is over.”
Patricia stood.
“Daniel, don’t be dramatic.”
He almost laughed.
The word again.
Dramatic.
Ava had been called dramatic.
Now him.
Apparently anyone who objected to cruelty was dramatic in this family.
“Everyone who does not live here needs to leave.”
Melissa stared.
“You can’t throw my family out on Thanksgiving.”
Daniel looked at the empty chair beside his own.
“I just found out my daughter already was.”
Then he walked toward the front door.
Ava suddenly followed.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
Daniel stopped.
She reached into her sweater pocket.
Another folded card.
This one was cleaner.
DAD.
Sophie had drawn a little heart beneath his name.
Ava held it toward him.
“She asked me to give you this if you came downstairs.”
Daniel took it.
“Did she say anything else?”
Ava nodded.
“What?”
The little girl hesitated.
Then whispered:
“She said maybe next year you’ll save her a chair.”
Daniel couldn’t answer.
He closed his hand around the card.
May you like
Then drove into the cold Thanksgiving night to find the daughter who had arrived at his home believing she belonged there—
and had left believing she didn’t.
