It was dal, of course, but I wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks, Dad.” I took the warm container from his hands and hurried into the kitchen for a bowl and spoon. My father trailed after me, taking in the piles of dirty dishes, the mounds of filthy burp cloths, the empty formula containers littering the counter.

“What’s that smell?”

My aromatic dinner masked all other odors, but I knew the source. “I haven’t had a chance to take the garbage out.”

He plugged his nose. “Are there diapers in it?”

I nodded and shrugged.

“Where is it?” he muttered.

“Under the sink.”

When he returned from depositing the bag in the outside garbage cans, he said, “Mind if I look around a bit?”

“Sure.” I understood his curiosity. This home, despite its chaotic state, was still awe-inspiring.

I ate a third of the lentils and two pieces of naan and put the rest in the fridge. Max had promised to return tomorrow, but I couldn’t rely on him. And I didn’t want to bother my parents for another food delivery, didn’t want to hear them disparage Freya and Max as selfish, irresponsible parents and employers. If I had pickles for breakfast and half the leftover dal for lunch, Max could pick up dinner for us. If he didn’t return, I’d finish the dahl and naan.

My dad returned to the kitchen. He was holding fragments of the rattle I’d thrown across the room. He didn’t ask any questions, just moved to the cupboard under the sink and threw the pieces into the now empty bin.

“It’s a stunning house,” he said.

“I know.”

“Call us if you need any more food.”

“I will.”

“Or if you just need a break. Or some company.”

A lump of self-pity formed in my throat. “Thanks.”

He gave my arm an affectionate squeeze and then left.

Chapter 60

60

Freya returned looking relaxed, happy, and a little hungover. “God, I needed that,” she said, sinking into the white sofa.

“Glad you had fun,” I said, only the slightest edge to my voice. I was holding Maggie, jiggling her gently on my shoulder. “We were fine here. Alone.”

“Good,” she said, oblivious of or ignoring my tone. “I need to do a photo shoot with Maggie.”

I had been anticipating this suggestion. Freya had made the critical error of chronicling her wine tasting, her sunbathing, and her culinary adventures on Instagram and YouTube. Some of her followers appreciated her glamorous photos, but others were ruthless.

Leaves her newborn baby to get drunk in wine country. #motheroftheyear

I’m sure the nanny is having a great time right now too.

People this selfish should be sterilized.