“Do you forgive him?” said Lulu.

“I will,” said Fee. “It’s going to take some time, because what he did was pretty big, although it could have been much bigger. But I’m working on it, and he says he’ll wait till I do, and he’s also been pretty frank with me about which bits of the tapestry he doesn’t like and needs me to work on—and, yes, there are some quite big ones—so I’m fairly confident we’ll get there. And, if things go as they should, we’ll both have learned from this a valuable lesson about what we each need from the other, how we each need to go about asking for it, and—in my case—how I must learn never to be careless with love, and never, ever to take for granted someone I love and value. Many experts say that, if your father and I approach this in the right way, then one day we’ll be the stronger for it, and that’s what I’m aiming for, and what he says he’s aiming for, too.”

Lulu thought for a moment.

“Do you forgive Jane?” she asked.

Fee, too, thought.

“I hope,” she said then, evenly, “with every inch and fiber of my being, that that bitch contracts an excruciatingly painful and slowly fatal illness and then roasts in hell for all eternity.”

“Good,” said Lulu.

“I should say ‘wait a minute’ here,” said Fee. “Because it’s not an okay thing to hope for. But I’m not going to. On the other hand, there is one other thing I’m hoping will happen that is okay to want. Which is—will you forgive your father? He’s put you through some pain in the last few days, and we’re both hoping you’ll forgive him, although I know we don’t have a right to demand it.”

“I don’t know,” said Lulu. “I need to think. Can I go up into the attic? And will you not ask me why?”

“I think the very least your father and I can give you now,” said Fee, “is the right to privacy.”