Three days later, I entered Naomi’s conference room for what Grant called a family meeting. He arrived with his attorney—and Marjorie, who claimed she represented the Caldwell family’s concerns. Before they entered, Naomi reminded me that I did not have to answer Marjorie and could leave whenever I chose. “They’ve judged my character for years,” I said, and Naomi replied, “Today, they’ll have to do it while I’m sitting beside you.”
Grant entered looking polished, controlled, and believable again, while Marjorie followed in cream wool and pearls. Neither asked how I felt, but both stared at my stomach even though I was only six weeks pregnant. Grant told me I looked tired, and Naomi immediately warned him to keep his remarks relevant. When Marjorie complained about the hostility, Naomi calmly reminded her that she was present only as a courtesy.
Grant’s attorney began discussing the condominium, our property, medical insurance, and temporary financial responsibilities. Then Grant leaned forward and announced that he wanted to attend my medical appointments. I refused, and when his attorney called my decision unnecessarily adversarial, Naomi reminded them that medical appointments belonged to the patient. Grant insisted he should have attended the first ultrasound, and I answered, “You were in the same hospital.”
He claimed calling Aubrey his wife had been a panicked mistake made during an emergency. Marjorie dismissed my anger as an unhealthy obsession with one word, so I asked why Aubrey’s clothes had been placed inside my closet and why my bed had been prepared for her. Marjorie called it ordinary housekeeping and insisted Aubrey needed somewhere to recover. Then she finally said the truth aloud: “Aubrey gave this family something you had not.”
