Chương 7
A small piece of reality becoming evidence because someone needed it to.
“Anything else?”
“You repeated things.”
“So do you.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t. Everyone repeats things. Old people get investigated for it.”
Daniel looked embarrassed.
“I wasn’t investigating you.”
“You were borrowing from me without permission while telling your wife I was confused about what I approved.”
He stared into his coffee.
Eleanor’s voice dropped.
“Do you understand how convenient that was?”
His eyes filled.
She hated that.
Not because she wanted him numb.
Because his tears still activated something in her that belonged to motherhood rather than justice.
Daniel blinked hard.
“I didn’t plan it that way.”
“Then how did you plan it?”
“I didn’t plan anything.”
“You forged my name.”
“Yes.”
“That required a pen.”
The waitress appeared.
“You folks ready to order?”
Neither spoke.
The waitress looked between them.
“I’ll give you another minute.”
“No,” Eleanor said. “I’ll have the tuna melt.”
Daniel stared at her.
“What?”
“You should eat.”
He laughed once in disbelief.
Eleanor folded her menu.
“Apparently I can be furious and hungry at the same time.”
Daniel ordered soup.
For several minutes they discussed nothing.
A child in the next booth dropped crayons.
A man near the window complained about parking.
The waitress refilled Eleanor’s coffee and accidentally gave Daniel decaf.
Life continued with insulting normalcy.
When the food came, Daniel said, “Vanessa didn’t start everything.”
Eleanor set down her sandwich.
“I know.”
“She took money. I think she used the company to move some of it. But I let the first transfer happen.”
“Why?”
“I was short on payroll.”
“You could have asked.”
“I did ask. Sort of.”
Eleanor frowned.
“When?”
“Last year. I told you the company was having a rough month and you said if I ever needed help, you were there.”
Eleanor stared at him.
“That is what you called permission?”
“No. Not really.”
“Not really?”
“I knew if I asked directly, you’d want details.”
“Yes.”
“And I was embarrassed.”
“So you stole because questions embarrassed you.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“When you say it that way—”
“How should I say it?”
“I don’t know.”
Eleanor bit into her sandwich.
It was too salty.
She chewed because she needed something to do.
Daniel continued.
“The first time was six thousand.”
“I know.”
“I paid it back.”
“Then took more.”
“Yes.”
“Did that make the second time easier?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
The honesty landed heavily.
Daniel stirred his soup.
“Vanessa found out a few months later. She got angry. Then she started helping me hide it.”
“Why?”
“She said if the company failed, we’d lose everything anyway.”
“And the money she paid herself?”
“I didn’t know how much.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Eleanor looked at her son.
He was not a criminal mastermind.
That might have been easier.
He was frightened.
Weak in specific ways.
Proud in specific ways.
Capable of loving her and exploiting her in the same year.
That was harder.
“Did you think I owed you the house?”
Daniel froze.
Eleanor saw the answer before he spoke.
“No.”
“Daniel.”
He wiped his mouth.
“Dad always said it would be mine someday.”
“He said everything would be yours because you’re our only child.”
“I know.”
“But someday means after I’m dead.”
“I know.”
“Did Vanessa know?”
“Yes.”
“And did the two of you discuss the fact that you were eventually getting the house?”
He looked miserable.
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Not like that.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’d say we were destroying ourselves trying to save the company when there was an asset sitting there.”
“An asset.”
Daniel flinched.
“That was her word.”
“You repeated it.”
“I’m telling you what she said.”
Eleanor pushed her plate away.
“She looked at my home and saw money.”
Daniel finally met her eyes.
“So did I.”
Eleanor said nothing.
“I wish I could tell you I didn’t.”
His soup cooled between them.
“I kept thinking you had this house almost paid off. Dad left investments. Social Security. Your pension. You were okay. And I was drowning.”
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“So you decided I had enough.”
“I decided you wouldn’t feel what I took.”
There it was.
Not hatred.
Not greed in its simplest form.
A calculation.
The kind decent people made before doing indecent things.
Eleanor picked up her coffee.
“What changed the night Vanessa brought the bat?”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“She wanted you out.”
“I know.”
“No. I mean permanently.”
Eleanor’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“She found a buyer.”
“For my house?”
“Not exactly. An investor. Someone who would buy after the transfer, fast, without repairs.”
Eleanor set the cup down.
“How long did you know?”
“Two days.”
“And you still brought me those papers.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you grab the bat?”
Daniel’s face crumpled.
It was not a dramatic collapse. Just a slow loss of whatever had been holding his features together.
“Because she scared me.”
Eleanor stared.
“Not because she might hit you,” he added. “Because I finally saw what we were doing.”
“That took a bat?”
“I guess.”
The bitterness in her own laugh surprised her.
Daniel looked down.
“I know how pathetic that sounds.”
“It sounds late.”
“Yes.”
They sat in silence.
Eleanor watched a city bus stop outside.
People got off carrying grocery bags and backpacks. One woman dragged a little boy by the hand because he was trying to walk along the curb.
Eleanor thought of Daniel at that age.
Then she stopped herself.
Memory could become another excuse.
“Are you going to cooperate with the investigation?”
Daniel nodded.
“Even if Vanessa is charged?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you are?”
He did not answer immediately.
Then: “Yes.”
Eleanor believed him.
Not completely.
Enough to frighten her.
Because if Daniel told the truth, the truth would hurt him too.
She picked up her sandwich again.
“I’m not paying for your lawyer.”
He looked at her.
May you like
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“You were.”
