Chapter 2 - THE ACCUSATION IN THE KITCHEN
“Cancel the party.”
The words didn't come out as a command; they came out as a strangled plea.
I stepped between Vivian and the table, bewildered. “Vivian? What are you talking about?”
“Cancel it!” Vivian demanded, tears suddenly swimming in her pale blue eyes as she tried to reach past me to hide the cake with the tablerunner. “Cover this thing up! Put it away! Ethan, get in here right now!”
Ethan rushed into the dining room, a roll of paper towels still in his hand. “Mom? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Vivian was trembling violently, pointing a shaking, manicured finger at the tiny silver shell. “Look at it! Look at what she put on this cake! It’s a disgrace! It’s an insult!”
Brooke stepped up beside her mother, her brows knitted in deep confusion. “Mom, calm down. It’s a shell. It’s an ammonite or something from Nora’s science books.”
“It’s not an ammonite!” Vivian snapped, her voice cracking with hysteria. “You don't know what it is! None of you know!”
Nora stood frozen beside her dinosaurs, DNA strands, and planets, clutching her magnifying glass tightly against her lab coat. The bright excitement on her face had vanished, replaced by the quiet, crushed look of a child who believes she has done something terribly wrong.
“Grandma?” Nora whispered, her lower lip quivering. “I... I picked that shell. I drew it.”
Vivian turned to Nora, her posture rigid, her breath ragged. “Where did you see it, Nora? Tell me right now. Did your mother give you a book? Did she show you a picture?”
“I found it!” Nora cried, shrink-wrapping herself into my hip as I wrapped an arm around her. “In the attic! Last week when you sent me upstairs to look for the old board games!”
Brooke’s eyes widened. “The green notebook?”
Vivian froze like a statue.
“Nora found Grandma’s old green notebook in the leather trunk,” Brooke said softly, looking at her mother with sudden realization. “The one with the brass clasp. You told us those were just old recipes from college.”
“It was recipes!” Vivian choked out, though her eyes were darting frantically toward the door as if she were searching for an escape. “It’s private! That notebook belongs to me!”
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“Nora didn't destroy anything, Vivian,” I said, my voice steadying as my protective mother instincts took over. “She drew a sketch from a notebook she found in our own attic. Why are you acting like a drawing of a nautilus shell is a threat to this family?”
Vivian wiped a stray tear from her cheek, her hands shaking so hard she couldn't steady her purse. “Because it’s not a shell. It’s a signature.”
