Gloria
## Chapter 6: Gloria
Elena drove to Short Pump.
Gloria Voss lived in a townhouse in a gated community where every lawn looked like it had been trimmed with scissors. White shutters. American flag. A ceramic frog by the front door that held a sign reading WELCOME, FRIENDS.
Elena had not been here in four years. The last visit was Thanksgiving, the year before the divorce. Marcus had carved the turkey. Gloria had served sweet potato casserole from a recipe she claimed was from 1952. Everyone smiled. Everyone performed. Elena remembered sitting at that table thinking: I am the only person in this room who is real.
She rang the doorbell. The chime played the first four notes of "Amazing Grace."
Gloria opened the door. She was smaller than Elena remembered. Eighty next year. White hair curled tight. The cameo ring on her left hand.
"Elena." She said it the way you say the name of something you've been dreading. "Come in."
The house smelled like lemon furniture polish and something baking. Gloria led her to the living room. They sat on opposite ends of a floral couch. A grandfather clock ticked in the hallway. Loud. Counting something.
"I know about Nora Kincaid," Elena said. No preamble. No small talk. "I know about the apartment. I know about Janet Palmer."
Gloria's hands went to her lap. The left one gripped the right. The cameo ring caught the light.
"How long?" Gloria asked. Quiet.
"How long have you known, or how long have I known?"
"How long have you known."
"A week."
Gloria closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were wet. "I've been carrying this for six years. Six years, Elena. Do you know what that does to a person?"
"I buried my daughter. So yes. I do."
Gloria flinched.
"Tell me what happened," Elena said. "All of it."
Gloria stood up. Walked to the window. Looked at her perfect lawn and the American flag and the ceramic frog.
"Marcus came to me the night of the fire. Midnight. Maybe one in the morning. He had the baby in a car seat. He was calm. He's always calm, you know that. He sat in my kitchen and told me there was going to be a fire at the hospital and the baby was going to die in it. Officially."
"Officially."
"He said you were going to leave him. That you'd been talking to a lawyer. He said if there was a custody fight, he'd lose. His work schedule, his travel. No judge would give him primary custody. So he decided there wouldn't be a custody fight."
"He killed our daughter. On paper."
"He said it was better this way. That Lily would have a good life with someone who actually wanted to be a mother full-time. He said you'd move on. He said everyone would move on."
"And you helped him."
Gloria turned from the window. Tears on her cheeks. "He's my son."
"He stole my child."
"I know." Gloria's voice broke. "I know what he did. I've known every day for six years. I drive past that cemetery where you put flowers and I see your car there and I know. I know."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he's my son. And because I was afraid of what he would do."
Elena sat very still. The clock ticked.
"What do you mean, afraid?"
Gloria walked to a cabinet by the television. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a key on a red ribbon.
"Marcus keeps a storage unit. Off Staples Mill Road. Unit 114. I have a copy of the key because I'm listed as his emergency contact for the account." She held it out. "Everything is in there. The original fire marshal's report. The real one. The forged documents for Nora. His correspondence with the hospital's insurance company. Everything."
Elena took the key. It was warm from the drawer.
"Why are you giving me this now?"
Gloria sat back down. Heavy. Like her bones had given up.
"Because last week, Nora called Marcus and told him Sophie was seeing a new pediatrician. She mentioned your name. And Marcus, he didn't get angry. He got quiet. That's worse." Gloria looked at Elena with an expression that was equal parts love and terror. "My son is not a violent man. But he is a man who makes problems disappear. And right now, Elena, you are a problem."
Elena put the key in her jacket pocket. Stood up.
"One more thing," she said at the door. "The night you brought Lily to Nora. Did you hold her?"
Gloria's face crumpled. "She fell asleep in my arms in the car. The whole drive to Roanoke. Two hours. She didn't cry once."
Elena left. She sat in her car in Gloria's driveway and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and made a sound she didn't recognize. Not crying. Something deeper. Something from the place where her daughter had been missing and she didn't know it and now she did.
May you like
Then she drove to Staples Mill Road.
Keep reading Part 7 — because inside that storage unit, Elena finds something she didn't expect: a letter from Nora, begging Marcus to make the adoption legal.
