Chương 12
I knew enough to understand that.
A business tax identification.
“Dad’s name was on it?”
“Robert Hale.”
“And Harrison Home Solutions?”
She nodded.
“Why Harrison?”
Paige shrugged.
“No idea.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s what I know.”
“Who filed it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom?”
“I didn’t see her file it.”
“But you think she did.”
Paige’s eyes hardened.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn silence into a confession.”
I stopped.
She was right enough to irritate me.
“Fine.”
I leaned against the lawnmower.
“What did you actually see?”
Paige rubbed one thumb across the rim of her mug.
“A letter from the IRS with Dad’s name and an EIN.”
“What else?”
“Business registration paperwork.”
“State?”
“Yes.”
“Whose address?”
“Ours.”
“Bank?”
“I saw deposit slips.”
“What bank?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Amounts?”
“Some big ones.”
“How big?”
“Ten thousand.”
“More?”
“Maybe.”
“And you said nothing?”
She looked at me as if the question itself was insulting.
“To who?”
“Me.”
“You were overseas.”
“I had a phone.”
“And what was I supposed to say?”
She raised her voice, then immediately lowered it.
“Hey, Danny, Mom might be committing financial crimes with dead Dad’s identity while you’re getting shot at?”
“That would have been a start.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You think every truth automatically belongs to you the second it happens.”
I stared at her.
“That’s a strange thing to say to someone whose identity may have been used too.”
She flinched.
Good.
Not because I wanted to hurt her.
Because I needed the fog to move.
“Were you involved?”
“No.”
“Did you benefit?”
She looked away.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“She paid my car.”
“With what money?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You took money and didn’t ask where it came from?”
“Have you met our mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop acting surprised.”
“That is not an answer.”
Paige set the mug on a shelf too hard.
Coffee splashed over the side.
“She said Dad left things messed up.”
“What things?”
“Taxes.”
“Debts.”
“She said she was fixing the estate.”
“Two years after probate?”
“I don’t know how probate works.”
“You know how calendars work.”
She wiped the coffee with the hem of her shirt.
“Whatever.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Not whatever.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Do you think I liked any of this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“You liked the truck.”
“That’s not mine.”
“You liked the trips.”
“I went on one trip.”
“The bag?”
She looked down at it instinctively, though she wasn’t carrying it now.
“Seriously?”
“I’m trying to understand what you accepted while Gwen couldn’t get eighty dollars for a bus.”
Paige’s face changed.
“What bus?”
“To her mother’s funeral.”
She stared at me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Did you know Linda died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Gwen didn’t go?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask why?”
Paige looked at the floor.
“No.”
That one landed on her.
I let it.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Outside, a garbage truck groaned down the street and stopped with a hydraulic hiss.
Paige finally whispered, “Mom said Gwen didn’t care enough to go.”
My jaw tightened.
“And you believed her.”
“I believed what was easiest.”
That was the first completely honest thing Paige had said.
I watched her pick at chipped paint on the shelf.
“What else?”
She shook her head.
“That’s enough.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.”
Paige laughed softly.
“You still think this is about money.”
“What is it about?”
“Control.”
The word sat differently than everything else.
I waited.
Paige pushed the shed door nearly closed.
“Mom has been terrified since Dad died.”
“Of what?”
“Being poor.”
“We weren’t poor.”
“To her, we were.”
“Dad had insurance.”
“Not as much as she expected.”
“And I started sending money.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“At first, she was careful.”
“How careful?”
“Bills paid on time.”
“Coupons.”
“She complained if I left lights on.”
“That sounds like her.”
“Then the first deployment transfer came.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom showed me the balance.”
“She said you were finally making real money.”
I hated the phrase.
Not because it was false.
Because I could hear Margaret saying it.
“Then?”
“The roof.”
“The kitchen.”
“Then she started saying property improvements were investments.”
“Then somehow everything became an investment.”
“Furniture?”
“Image.”
“Truck?”
“Asset.”
“Your clothes?”
Paige’s mouth twisted.
“Brand-building.”
I almost laughed.
She did not.
“That was the stupidest one.”
“Then why go along with it?”
“Because when somebody keeps saying we can afford it, eventually you stop asking.”
“Gwen didn’t.”
Paige’s expression tightened.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She fought Mom over everything.”
“Money?”
“At first.”
“Then?”
“Privacy.”
“Passwords.”
“Food.”
“Appointments.”
“Her mother.”
I looked at Paige.
“You knew about the passwords?”
“Yes.”
“And the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop it?”
She crossed her arms tighter.
“Because Gwen wasn’t innocent.”
“There it is.”
“I’m not saying she deserved this.”
“You’re about to.”
“No.”
Paige stepped toward me.
“I’m saying she lied too.”
“About Linda?”
“About money.”
“I know.”
“Not all of it.”
“What else?”
Paige hesitated.
“I think Gwen took cash from Mom.”
“How much?”
“Three thousand.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Proof?”
“I saw Mom’s envelope empty.”
“That is not proof.”
“I saw Gwen with cash the next day.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you saw money and created a story.”
“Mom said she confessed.”
“Did you hear the confession?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
Paige’s jaw worked.
“You keep protecting her.”
“I’m checking facts.”
“You never checked facts when it was Mom.”
“That’s changing.”
She looked almost relieved by that.
Almost.
Then the shed door moved behind her.
Margaret’s voice came through the gap.
“Paige.”
My sister went pale.
Margaret opened the door.
She looked at both of us, then at the mug on the shelf.
“Breakfast is getting cold.”
Neither of us answered.
Margaret looked at me.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Talking.”
“About what?”
“Dad.”
Her eyes changed.
Very slightly.
May you like
Paige saw it too.
I knew because she looked down.
