He was standing behind a birthday table.
Diane’s message beneath it read:
YOU WERE FINE.
Luke stared at the image.
Claire looked closer.
“You weren’t smiling.”
He zoomed in.
He had never noticed that before.
Six-year-old Luke’s mouth was turned downward.
His eyes were wet.
Behind him stood Diane, laughing.
Another message arrived.
ANDREW TOO.
A second photograph.
Andrew, perhaps nine.
Whipped cream covered his hair and shirt.
Again, adults laughed around him.
Andrew did not.
Luke sat down.
“She kept pictures.”
Claire watched him carefully.
“Are you surprised?”
“I don’t know.”
His phone buzzed again.
This time the message came from Andrew.
Not Diane.
Call me when you can.
Luke called immediately.
Andrew answered.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
A long silence.
Then Andrew said, “Mom called me.”
“I figured.”
“She wants me to talk sense into you.”
Luke rubbed his forehead.
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
Luke looked surprised.
Andrew continued.
“I saw what she did.”
“So did everyone.”
“No. I mean I was standing behind her.”
Luke said nothing.
Andrew’s voice lowered.
“Ellie told Mom no before she pushed her.”
Claire moved closer.
Luke put the phone on speaker.
“What exactly happened?”
Andrew exhaled.
“Your mom walked up behind Ellie while everyone was singing. She put her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie looked back and said, ‘Grandma, remember, no smashing.’”
Claire closed her eyes.
Luke’s face went pale.
Andrew continued.
“Mom smiled.”
Luke whispered, “And then?”
“She waited until Ellie leaned over.”
Claire gripped the edge of the counter.
Luke’s voice changed.
“She planned it.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
Another silence.
“I should have.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I froze.”
Luke looked angry.
Andrew sounded ashamed.
“She used to do that stuff to us, Luke. You know that.”