Chương 11
“Your mother was embarrassed.”
“By Theo?”
“By what people were saying.”
“What people?”
“Mostly Rob.”
Of course.
“What was he saying?”
“That Theo was spoiled.”
I waited.
Dad continued reluctantly.
“That you let him run everything.”
“What else?”
“That you used your money to make everyone afraid to criticize your kids.”
I stared at him.
There it was.
The story Mom had told Denise.
Expanded.
Improved.
Made useful.
“So Easter was punishment.”
“No.”
Dad answered too quickly.
“Yes.”
I stepped closer.
“That is exactly what it was.”
“I don’t think she saw it that way.”
“I do not care how she saw it.”
My voice rose.
The woman loading books into the minivan glanced over.
I lowered it again.
“She wanted me to choose.”
Dad’s brow furrowed.
“Choose what?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
“My family or my son.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t the intention.”
“Then why Theo?”
Dad opened his mouth.
Closed it.
I said, “Why not tell Rob to leave his opinions at home?”
“He would’ve exploded.”
“So you picked the person least likely to fight back.”
Dad looked at me.
Not Mom.
Not Rob.
Theo.
Six years old.
Small enough to remove.
Small enough to blame.
I saw the answer in my father’s face before he managed to say anything.
“I should have stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“I should have said something.”
“Yes.”
“I was trying to avoid a scene.”
“You got one anyway.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I handed him the folder back, then immediately took it again.
“No, I’m keeping this.”
“It’s yours.”
“Some of it is evidence.”
His eyes lifted.
“Evidence?”
“I spoke to the police.”
“About the box.”
“And tomorrow I’m speaking to the credit union.”
Dad’s face changed.
“What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth.”
“That could get your mother in serious trouble.”
For one second, I could not speak.
Then I laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“There you are.”
“What?”
“I was wondering when you’d come back.”
“Claire.”
“You bring me records showing Mom took at least nineteen thousand dollars, and your first concern is what happens to her if I report it.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
“She’s still your mother.”
“And I’m still her daughter.”
“I know.”
“Does she?”
He looked down.
Theo suddenly opened the car door.
“Mom!”
I turned sharply.
“Get back inside.”
“But I have to pee.”
Of course he did.
For the first time in fifteen minutes, Dad looked almost relieved.
“The library’s still open.”
I checked the front doors.
A staff member was locking one side.
“Come on.”
Theo climbed out.
Marlo followed.
“I can take him.”
“No.”
“I need to stretch.”
“You were in the car twenty minutes.”
“It was an emotionally long twenty minutes.”
Dad looked at her.
“Hi, Marlo.”
She stopped.
“Hi.”
He shifted awkwardly.
“I’m sorry.”
She glanced at me.
Then back at him.
“For what?”
Dad swallowed.
“Easter.”
“That’s pretty broad.”
“For not standing up for Theo.”
Marlo’s expression did not soften.
“You mean when Grandma said he shouldn’t come anymore?”
“Yes.”
“And you sat there?”
“Yes.”
“And then Uncle Rob smashed my bird?”
Dad flinched.
“Yes.”
“And you mostly sat there for that too?”
“Yes.”
Marlo nodded.
“Okay.”
Dad looked confused.
“Okay?”
“That means I heard you.”
She took Theo’s hand.
“It doesn’t mean you fixed anything.”
Then she walked toward the library.
Dad stared after her.
“She’s tough.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“She’s thirteen.”
He nodded slowly.
“I forget.”
“That’s part of the problem.”
We followed the kids inside.
Theo made it to the restroom just before the librarian started turning people out.
Marlo stood near the circulation desk, reading the spines on a cart of returned books.
Dad lingered beside a bulletin board advertising tax assistance, knitting club, and beginner Spanish.
Ordinary things.
Small things.
The world remained offensively functional.
When Theo came running back, Dad crouched.
“Hey, buddy.”
Theo stopped a few feet away.
“Hi.”
Dad smiled.
“I missed you.”
Theo looked at me before answering.
“I missed you too.”
Dad’s eyes filled.
He blinked hard.
“Can I have a hug?”
Theo hesitated.
That hesitation cut deeper than anything else had.
Then he stepped forward.
Dad wrapped both arms around him.
Theo hugged him back for perhaps three seconds before wriggling free.
“Do you still have my fire truck?”
Dad wiped at his eye.
“Yeah.”
“Can I get it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Tonight?”
Dad glanced at me.
I said, “Not tonight.”
Theo frowned.
“Tomorrow?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
He accepted that more easily than I did.
Outside, Dad walked us to the car.
Before I opened the door, he touched my arm.
“There’s something else.”
I turned.
His face had gone pale again.
“What?”
“I found a letter from the credit union.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What kind of letter?”
“A notice about adding a payable-on-death beneficiary.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It might.”
“Why?”
“Because the beneficiary she added wasn’t you.”
“It’s my account.”
“I know.”
“Then who?”
Dad looked toward the kids.
Marlo had gone still again.
He lowered his voice.
“Rob.”
For a second, I thought I had misheard him.
“Rob?”
Dad nodded.
I opened the folder again even though the letter was not on top.
“How could Mom add a beneficiary to my account?”
“I don’t know if she actually could.”
“You just said she did.”
“I said I found a notice.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes.
The distinction mattered.
Everything mattered now.
Wording.
Dates.
Who signed what.
Who had authority.
Who only believed they did.
“Is the letter in here?”
“Yes.”
Dad reached for the folder.
I pulled it closer to my chest.
“I’ll find it.”
His hand dropped.
“Okay.”
Marlo was watching us from beside the car.
“What’s Rob getting?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s something I need to verify.”
She looked at Dad.
“Is Grandma giving Uncle Rob Mom’s money?”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
May you like
“Not exactly.”
Marlo turned to me.
