Chapter 2 - THREE DAYS EARLIER
Madeline’s first collapse had happened on Sunday night.
She remembered almost nothing after dinner.
Serena had come over because Preston said Madeline looked exhausted.
That part had seemed normal.
Serena had been around their family for almost eight years.
She attended birthdays.
Thanksgivings.
Poppy called her Aunt Serena even though there was no blood relation.
Madeline remembered Serena making tea.
Preston taking a work call.
Poppy coloring at the breakfast table.
Then the room had become strangely heavy.
Her last clear memory was setting down a mug.
She woke in St. Catherine Medical Center the next morning.
Preston was beside her.
His eyes were red.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Doctors told Madeline that testing suggested exposure to a sedating substance she had not reported taking.
They could not determine from one episode exactly how it entered her system.
Madeline insisted she had taken nothing unusual.
Preston supported her.
At least publicly.
“She doesn’t take anything without checking it,” he told the physician.
Serena visited that afternoon carrying flowers.
She cried.
She hugged Preston.
She told Madeline:
“Thank God he found you.”
Madeline remembered something else now.
Serena had not asked what doctors found.
She asked whether Madeline remembered drinking anything.
At the time it seemed like concern.
Now it sounded like information gathering.
The hospital kept Madeline for observation.
By Wednesday she was medically stable enough to go home with follow-up instructions.
Preston wanted her to stay with his sister for several days.
Madeline refused.
“I want my own bed.”
Serena volunteered to help at the house.
Again.
Madeline had almost laughed.
“You don’t have to babysit me.”
Serena answered:
“I’d rather be annoying than have something happen when Preston steps away.”
Now Madeline stood in her kitchen looking at the same woman.
The broken glass lay between them.
Poppy was still in the hallway.
Madeline crouched immediately.
“Sweetheart, go to your room and take Bunny.”
Poppy hesitated.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m going to be okay.”
Preston moved toward their daughter.
Madeline held up one hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Poppy went upstairs.
Only after Madeline heard her bedroom door close did she face him.
“Tell me what she meant.”
Preston rubbed both hands over his face.
Serena snapped:
“Don’t say anything until we talk.”
Madeline turned toward her.
May you like
That was the wrong sentence.
Because innocent people did not usually need to coordinate their stories first.
