"You can keep the copies. My attorney will also provide them to yours."
She nodded. At the bottom of the stairs she turned and looked back at him, a man she had known since she was twenty-three and thought she understood completely. He was still sitting beside two cold cups of coffee, the wedding ring on the table in front of him. For the first time, she was frightened not of being caught but of the possibility that he was truly finished.
Daniel did not sleep before sunrise. He sat at the kitchen table until the light outside turned gray and the first delivery truck passed along their street. Then he stood, poured out the coffee, and washed both cups. It was a small task with no significance beyond the need to do it, and he found the ordinary movements comforting.
At six thirty, Sophie came downstairs in a sweatshirt carrying her cello case. She stopped when she saw her father sitting at the table again, this time with his breakfast barely touched. She looked toward the staircase, where Claire had gone to sleep in the guest room.
"You and Mom had a fight," she said.
Daniel pulled out a chair. "We had an important conversation. Can you sit with me for a minute before school?"
Sophie placed the cello case beside the wall. She sat down with the careful expression of a child who has heard more than adults realize. Daniel told her they had been having difficulties for a long time, that they were going to live separately for a while, and that both parents loved her. He did not describe the affair or the money.
"Is this because I asked you why Mom is never home?" Sophie said.
The question struck him so hard he had to pause. He moved closer and took her hand.
"No. This has nothing to do with anything you said or did. You were allowed to ask that question. You are allowed to ask any question about how you feel at home. The decisions belong to your mother and me."
Sophie watched him, looking for something in his face. "Are you getting divorced?"
"That is what I have decided, yes. Your mother and I will have to work out what happens next. I wish I could make it less upsetting for you."
She stared at the table. After a while she asked whether she would have to change schools, whether the cello would stay in the house, and whether she could still spend Sundays with her grandmother. Daniel answered what he knew and admitted what he did not know. He promised that no decision about moving would be made casually and that they would tell her about changes before they happened.
Then Sophie asked the question he had feared most. "Do you still like Mom?"
He thought carefully. "I still care about her. I am hurt by things that happened between us. Those are adult problems, and I am going to work on them with adults. You do not have to stop loving her because I am hurt."