Chương 5
“Nothing.”
Patricia’s gaze sharpened.
“What does she know?”
He did not answer.
I looked at my father.
“Apparently not nothing.”
“Fay,” he said.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Do this here.”
“Where should I do it?”
Patricia stepped closer.
“What did Nathan tell you?”
The question came too fast.
I looked at her.
She knew immediately that she had made a mistake.
“Nathan didn’t tell me anything.”
Her mouth opened.
I reached into my bag and took out my phone.
The recorder from the porch sat at the top of the recent files.
I did not play it.
I only held the phone in my hand.
“Why were you planning to have Chloe made my guardian?”
Gerald sat down hard at the kitchen table.
Patricia did not move.
For perhaps five seconds, nobody pretended anymore.
Then my mother’s entire face seemed to settle into something colder than anger.
“You were listening outside.”
“Yes.”
“That is unbelievably deceptive.”
I almost admired the speed of it.
“You were planning to take control of my estate.”
“We were planning to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.”
Gerald said, “Patricia.”
“No.”
She turned on him.
“We’re past pretending.”
Then she looked at me.
“You have no idea what Nathan left behind.”
“I know exactly what he left me.”
“I’m not talking about the money.”
The room went still again.
I felt my throat tighten.
“What are you talking about?”
Patricia looked at my father.
Gerald’s face carried a warning I had never seen before.
My mother ignored it.
“Nathan came here six months ago.”
I waited.
“He came alone.”
My father stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“Pat, stop.”
“He accused us of stealing from St. Matthew’s.”
“Patricia.”
“He threatened to go to the board.”
I looked from one to the other.
“What church accounts?”
Neither answered.
The phrase from James came back to me.
Before the gala, we need to look at the church accounts.
My father’s hands were trembling.
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“Then explain it.”
“It wasn’t theft.”
Patricia closed her eyes.
Gerald seemed to hear his own words too late.
I said, “What wasn’t theft?”
He looked toward the kitchen window.
Night had begun to gather outside, turning the glass into a reflection of the three of us.
My father lowered his voice.
“The money was supposed to be replaced.”
“How much?”
“Fay.”
“How much?”
Patricia answered for him.
“One point two million.”
My knees weakened.
I gripped the back of a chair.
“You stole one point two million dollars from a church?”
“No.”
Gerald’s voice broke.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
He opened his mouth, but my mother spoke first.
“It was supposed to cover an investment gap.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your father made a mistake.”
Gerald snapped, “Stop speaking for me.”
Patricia’s eyes flashed.
“Then speak.”
He did not.
The silence lengthened.
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was a text from James.
DO NOT CONFRONT THEM.
I almost laughed.
Too late.
Patricia saw the message preview.
Her eyes lifted slowly to mine.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“You are talking to him.”
“Yes.”
Gerald said, “Fay, listen to me.”
I stepped backward.
He raised his hands.
“I’m not going to touch you.”
“You took my keys.”
“That was your mother.”
“And you let her.”
His face folded slightly.
It was a small thing, almost invisible.
For the first time that night, he looked old.
“I made bad choices.”
I swallowed.
“Did Nathan know?”
“Yes.”
“Did he threaten to report you?”
My father nodded.
“Why didn’t he?”
Patricia answered.
“Because he loved you.”
That landed harder than anything else.
I saw Nathan at our kitchen counter in Manhattan six months earlier, standing with his back to me while he sliced an apple too thin.
He had been quiet that week.
I had asked if work was bothering him.
He had said, “Family stuff.”
I assumed he meant his brother in Arizona.
“What did you do to stop him?”
Gerald’s head snapped toward me.
“Nothing.”
My mother said nothing.
I looked at her.
“Mom.”
Her lips pressed together.
“What did you do?”
Gerald whispered, “Patricia.”
She turned away.
That was when I became afraid in a way I had not been afraid before.
Not of a guardianship petition.
Not of Dr. Voss.
Not even of losing Nathan’s money.
I was suddenly afraid that the people standing in front of me knew something about my husband’s death that I did not.
I reached into Patricia’s cardigan pocket and took my keys.
She was too startled to stop me.
I moved toward the front door.
Behind me, my father said my name.
I kept walking.
Then Patricia called after me.
“Fay, Nathan did not die from what you think he died from.”
I stopped with my hand on the front doorknob.
Behind me, the refrigerator hummed and the baseball announcer continued speaking soundlessly from the living room.
“What does that mean?”
Patricia did not answer.
Gerald did.
“It means your mother needs to stop talking.”
I turned around.
My father looked furious now, but the anger was pointed at her, not me.
Patricia folded her arms.
“No, Gerald, she deserves to know.”
“Know what?”
My voice sounded thinner than I wanted.
My mother looked at me for a long moment.
“The hospital called it sudden cardiac death.”
I stared at her.
“That is what happened.”
“Maybe.”
Gerald slammed his palm against the counter.
“Enough.”
Patricia flinched.
I had never seen him do that to her.
He looked at me immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
“What happened to Nathan?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Nothing happened to him.”
“You just said—”
“Your mother is trying to frighten you.”
Patricia laughed once.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“I’m trying to frighten her?”
“Then tell her the truth.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re making insinuations because you’re angry.”
May you like
“I’m angry because you keep protecting everyone except me.”
For a moment they looked less like my parents than two exhausted people who had spent years accumulating grievances in private.
