Chương 4
Samuel continued.
“She and a friend were going to open a wellness place in St. Louis Park.”
“Were going to?”
“They signed a lease.”
“Chloe told me she didn’t want her own studio.”
“She didn’t tell you everything.”
Margaret almost said that Chloe rarely told her anything.
The accusation died before reaching her mouth.
She had spent months entering Chloe’s home without permission.
Perhaps silence had been the safest boundary Chloe knew how to build.
Samuel continued.
“The contractor costs went way over budget, her partner pulled out, and then there were problems with the lease.”
“So Chloe borrowed eighty-six thousand dollars from us?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I did.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I thought I could fix it.”
There was the son she recognized.
Samuel had been fixing things since childhood, including things nobody had asked him to fix.
At fourteen, he had taken apart Margaret’s broken mixer on the kitchen floor and spent six hours trying to reassemble it before admitting he had lost a spring.
At thirty-four, apparently, he had decided a failing business and a frightened wife were another machine that could be repaired if he found the correct screwdriver.
“Did Chloe know where the money came from?”
“No.”
Walter looked up sharply.
“Samuel.”
“She deserves to know the truth too.”
Walter stood.
“Don’t make decisions while you’re angry.”
Samuel laughed bitterly through the phone.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Margaret pressed her fingertips against her temple.
“How did the balance become a hundred and twelve thousand?”
Neither man answered.
She opened her eyes.
“Walter?”
“We had expenses.”
“What expenses?”
“The loan payments.”
“You borrowed money to make payments on money you borrowed?”
“It was more complicated.”
“It keeps becoming complicated whenever you’re ashamed of the simple version.”
Walter’s cheeks reddened.
“I was trying to keep Samuel from losing everything.”
“Everything meaning what?”
Samuel answered.
“My marriage.”
Margaret stopped.
The anger loosened just enough for something else to enter.
“What happened between you and Chloe?”
Samuel’s breathing changed.
“She was pregnant.”
Margaret’s hand slipped from the counter.
Walter looked away.
“When?”
“Last winter.”
Margaret could not speak.
Samuel and Chloe had told her for years that they were not ready for children.
Margaret had pushed, teased, bought a tiny Vikings onesie one Christmas as a joke, and watched Chloe smile politely before disappearing into the bathroom.
“She lost it,” Samuel said.
Margaret sat down.
The nearest chair happened to be Chloe’s, tucked beneath the small kitchen table.
“How far?”
“Eleven weeks.”
Margaret pressed her palm against her chest.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Samuel gave a tired laugh.
“Because you would’ve made it yours.”
The words hurt because there was nowhere convenient to put the blame.
Margaret stared at the fruit bowl on the table.
Three bananas had gone brown along their stems.
A grocery receipt was folded beside them.
She had probably inspected that same bowl during one of her secret visits and congratulated herself on noticing that Chloe wasted food.
“I would have helped.”
“I know you believe that.”
Margaret swallowed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Chloe was bleeding in an emergency room and Dad was the one who came when I called.”
She looked at Walter.
He remained near the sofa, eyes lowered.
Samuel continued.
“You were at Aunt Linda’s in Madison.”
“I would have driven back.”
“Dad said not to tell you until Chloe was ready.”
For the first time since Margaret opened the bedroom door, Walter looked almost like the husband she knew.
Not innocent.
Not forgiven.
Simply human.
He had gone to their son when their son needed someone.
Margaret hated that this mattered.
She hated even more that it did.
“Afterward Chloe couldn’t teach for a while,” Samuel said.
“The studio project was already falling apart, and she was terrified we’d lose the deposit and get sued over the lease.”
“So you called your father.”
“Yes.”
“And he borrowed against our house.”
“I thought you knew.”
Margaret looked at Walter.
“When did Samuel find out I didn’t?”
Walter said, “Margaret.”
“When?”
Samuel answered.
“Three weeks ago.”
The room seemed to tilt again.
“Three weeks?”
“I found a statement in Dad’s car.”
Walter’s head snapped toward the phone.
“You went through my car?”
“You asked me to find your registration.”
Margaret almost laughed at the family resemblance.
Every betrayal seemed to come with somebody opening something that did not belong to them.
“What did the statement show?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Withdrawals.”
Walter walked toward her.
“That has nothing to do with the original loan.”
Margaret stood.
“What withdrawals?”
“Samuel, shut up.”
The words came from Walter with enough force to silence all three of them.
Margaret had heard her husband angry before.
This was different.
This was fear.
Samuel finally said, “Dad took more money after the studio debt was settled.”
Walter grabbed the phone from Margaret’s hand.
She reacted without thinking and slapped him.
The sound cracked through the apartment.
Walter froze.
Margaret froze too.
Her palm stung.
Neither of them had ever hit the other.
She took the phone back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she was not sure whether she meant the slap or the thirty-two years that had led to it.
Walter touched his cheek.
Samuel was shouting through the phone.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Walter laughed once, quietly.
“No, she isn’t.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Where did the rest go?”
Walter reached for his shoes.
She did not stop him this time.
“Where did it go, Samuel?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“What do you know?”
“I know there were transfers to an account I didn’t recognize.”
Walter shoved his feet into his shoes without tying them.
Samuel continued.
“And I know Dad asked me last week to sign something saying the original eighty-six thousand was a loan to me.”
Margaret’s skin prickled.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Walter opened the front door.
Margaret followed him into the hallway.
“Walter.”
May you like
He kept walking.
She stood outside Samuel’s apartment with the phone against her ear and watched her husband jab the elevator button.
