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She carried high and round, and seemed unaffected by it. It really was like she was just walking around with a basketball up her dress. I liked her. And they made me such a good offer. I was almost suspicious. An apartment, rent-free, and not on their property, which is tricky. Living with a family. They say you’ll have privacy, but you never do. I lived in one of Stephen’s buildings, a mill redevelopment. They even gave me a car. They said they wanted to make sure that Alanna and Ruby were safe. They didn’t like my little Datsun. They bought me a two-year-old Jeep Cherokee. Set hours, Monday through Friday. And, eventually, I was to travel with them, although that never happened. They had thought they might go to Europe that summer, or rent a place on Nantucket, but Mr. Dawes couldn’t afford the time off from work and Isadora was colicky. Bad colicky. It would have driven anyone crazy. Sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry—
HB:
 
It’s okay.
EM:
 
I didn’t mean to say it that way. I know it wasn’t the colic. But I doubt the colic helped. We were all a bit on edge. Even the girls. But we got through the end of the school year, and they were in camp, and suddenly, Mr. Dawes told me they didn’t need me anymore.
HB:
 
Just out of the blue.
EM:
 
It felt that way.
HB:
 
Why?
EM:
 
Why did it feel that way?
HB:
 
Why did he say he had to let you go?
EM:
 
He said it was at Mrs. Dawes’s insistence. I don’t know. Maybe that was when—her problems were starting. That would make sense, right?
HB:
 
Are you asking me?
EM:
 
No. I guess I’m still—still confused. About who asked me to leave. But Mr. Dawes was the one who asked me to come back. After. Only I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. Of course they were sensitive about people talking, given what was going on. I mean, factual stuff, that’s not in dispute—the dates of my employment, my job description—that’s okay. And when I talked to Mrs. Dawes—I guess she’s not Mrs. Dawes anymore, but I don’t know what to call her—she said I can say anything I want to about her, anything. But I wasn’t there, when it got really bad. I was fired in June. Wait, I don’t think I can say fired . I left in June and returned in September.
HB:
 
Certainly that agreement doesn’t apply retroactively. We checked. You signed that in September 2002.
EM:
 
I don’t have the, uh, luxury of finding that out. My first day back at work was September tenth. I remember because the next day—people were talking about the first anniversary of nine-eleven. I remember that Stephen—Mr. Dawes—told me that when nine-eleven happened, Alanna, she asked that everyone stop talking about it. Within, like, two weeks. She said, “Would everyone please stop talking about nine-eleven?” That was so like her.
HB:
 
That’s a good detail. I wonder if Alanna will remember that about herself.
EM:
 
How’s she doing? Alanna. And Ruby. She was adorable. I think about them a lot. I thought—Well, it doesn’t matter. But I really loved them. Do they like their stepmother? I’m sorry, I guess that’s none of my business. I always thought Stephen would marry—if he remarried at all—someone like, well, someone more like Melisandre. He cares about appearances, Mr. Dawes. I thought that might have been the reason he didn’t get help for Mrs. Dawes.
HB:
 
I don’t want to press you, but about Mr. Dawes? He offered no reason at all when he asked you to leave the first time, in June, said only that it was what Mrs. Dawes wanted?
EM:
 
It just came out of the blue. Also, it was summer. The girls had fewer activities, only the day camp. And it was around the time Mrs. Dawes began to get so strange. I guess, if she was psychotic, that was when it started.
HB:
 
If? Do you doubt the diagnosis? Are you one of the people who believe she was faking?
EM:
 
Oh, no, well, it’s just that, it’s like OJ, right? He was acquitted, but lots and lots of people think he was