Free Kiss Mommy Goodbye by Joy Fielding

university perhaps?”
    “No, sir.” The smile had vanished.
    “So that you have no real qualifications, shall we say, for assessing Mrs. Cressy’s behavior?”
    “Just my eyes and ears,” Danny Vogel retorted, the snake concerned and frightened, coiled to strike.
    “Eyes and ears can be deceiving, Mr. Vogel, as we all know. No outsider to a marriage can ever fairly or fully assess what goes on inside that marriage, wouldn’t you agree?”
    “I suppose so.” He paused. “But Donna’s behavior was more than—”
    Mr. Stamler cut the witness off abruptly. “Would you say you’re especially qualified to comment on female behavior? How many times have you been married, Mr. Vogel?”
    Danny Vogel squirmed visibly. “Twice,” he admitted.
    “Your first marriage ended in divorce?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And your second? A happy one?”
    “We’re separated,” he said, keeping his voice clearly audible while lowering his bead.
    “So you’re really not much of an authority on women, are you, Mr. Vogel?” the lawyer asked sarcastically, then continued on immediately. “You stated moments ago that you never observed Mrs. Cressy with her children, is that correct?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “So then, you’re really not in a position one way or the other to comment on Mrs. Cressy’s abilities as a mother, are you?”
    “No, sir, but—”
    “Thank you, that’s all, Mr. Vogel.”
    Danny Vogel hesitated momentarily before stepping away from the witness stand. He looked at Victor, who continued largely to ignore his presence, still carefully avoiding Donna’s glance as he ambled back to his seat.
    Mr. Stamler—did he have a first name? Donna suddenly wondered, realizing she had never called him other than Mr.—patted her hand reassuringly. He obviously felt they had won that round. The witness had admitted he was in no position to comment on Donna’s capabilities as a mother—“So then, you’re really not in a position one way or the other to comment on Mrs. Cressy’s abilities as a mother, are you?” “No, sir,” the witness had agreed. “But—” Her lawyer had quickly terminated the testimony, but the word remained in the records. The court had heard it. She had heard it. The judge had certainly heard it.
But
.
    She repeated it over in her mind—
but, but, but, but—
until, like the word middle, its meaning was reduced to an absurdity.
    ——
    “Tell me a story.”
    Donna looked over at her young son, just four years old, who sat less than an arm’s reach away, rubbing his nose with the bright blue blanket that covered his bed. “Adam, I’ve already read you three stories. I said that one was the last. We agreed that when it was over, you would get under the covers and go to sleep.”
    “I am under the covers,” he said, crawling swiftly inside his bed.
    “Good.” Donna stood up, feeling tired and drained, yet reluctant to leave his side. Immediately, Adam sensed her indecision.
    “Please—” he said, his face already a huge grin of anticipation.
    Donna sat back down on the bed next to his pillow. Adam immediately propped himself up beside her. “All right, which story do you want me to read?”
    “Not read. Tell.”
    “Oh, honey, I’m so tired. I can’t think of—”
    “Tell me a story about a little boy named Roger and a little girl named Bethanny—”
    Donna smiled at the mention of the two names—Adam’s latest friends from nursery school. “Okay,” she said. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Roger and a little girl named Bethanny, and one day they went to the park—”
    “No!”
    “No?”
    “No. They went to the zoo to see the giraffes!”
    “Who’s telling this story? You or me?”
    Adam took a second to recollect his thoughts. “Tell me a story,” he persisted, “about a little boy named Roger anda little girl named Bethanny and they went to the zoo to see the giraffes. Would you tell me that one?”
    “Okay,” Donna said, chuckling to