Chương 9
His employment listed him as retired.
Walter had commented on one of his golf photographs four months ago.
Still cheating at your scorecards, I see.
Rick had answered with a laughing face.
Samuel said, “Could Dad be using his company?”
“For what?”
“To move money.”
Margaret looked at the statement again.
“Why would Rick agree?”
“Maybe he gets paid.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“Or maybe he doesn’t know.”
She searched the address attached to the business.
The registered office was not a real office.
It was a commercial mail center.
A cold, practical fear replaced some of her anger.
This was no longer only an affair.
Not even only theft.
“Mom, don’t confront him alone.”
“I’m not planning to.”
“That sounded like you’re planning to.”
“I said I’m not.”
“You also said you were checking Chloe’s refrigerator for her own good.”
Margaret almost snapped back.
She stopped herself.
“Fair.”
Samuel sighed.
“What now?”
Margaret looked toward the front windows.
Walter’s car still had not appeared.
“I’m going to call the bank tomorrow.”
“You should call tonight.”
“They won’t discuss this department after hours.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have spent thirty-two years listening to your father complain about bank hours.”
Samuel was quiet.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was small and miserable.
Margaret laughed too.
For ten seconds they were mother and son again, not witnesses sorting through the wreckage of a marriage.
Then Samuel said, “Chloe told me not to come home tonight.”
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
“Come here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Dad might come back.”
Margaret looked around the kitchen.
“He probably will.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t want to be alone with him either.”
Samuel hesitated.
“I can come.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to be in the middle.”
“You’re already in it.”
“I know.”
Margaret softened her voice.
“Come anyway.”
“All right.”
She ended the call and stood beside the kitchen island.
Walter’s message remained unanswered.
Margaret opened it again.
Do not believe everything Samuel tells you.
She typed, What should I believe?
The reply came almost immediately.
Not by text.
A photograph.
Margaret opened it.
For several seconds, she could not understand what she was seeing.
It was a signed document.
At the bottom was Samuel’s signature.
The date was nine months earlier.
Above it, in clean legal language, Samuel acknowledged receiving eighty-six thousand dollars from Walter and Margaret Ellis as a personal loan.
Margaret enlarged the signature.
It looked like Samuel’s.
Then another message from Walter appeared.
Ask your son why he signed this before he ever claimed he thought you had approved the money.
Margaret stared at the document until the letters stopped looking like words and became black shapes arranged to hurt her.
She called Samuel immediately.
He answered on the second ring.
“Did Dad contact you?”
“Yes.”
Samuel’s voice changed.
“What did he send?”
“A loan agreement.”
Silence.
“Samuel?”
“I can explain.”
“Did you sign it?”
“Yes.”
Margaret sat down at the kitchen table.
The chair scraped loudly against the tile.
“You told me an hour ago your father asked you last week to sign something saying the original money was a loan.”
“He did.”
“But this document is dated nine months ago.”
“I know.”
“Then either you lied to me or Walter forged the date.”
Samuel breathed out.
“It’s neither.”
Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Those are the only two choices I can see right now.”
“There was another document.”
She lowered her hand.
“What other document?”
“When Dad transferred the money, he had me sign a basic acknowledgment.”
“This?”
“No.”
“What did it say?”
“That I received funds from you and Dad.”
“Did it say loan?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did it say I approved it?”
“I don’t remember.”
Margaret’s anger rose again.
“You signed an eighty-six-thousand-dollar document and you don’t remember what it said?”
“I was barely functioning.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“I know.”
Samuel’s voice sharpened.
“Chloe had just lost the baby, her business was collapsing, and Dad was standing in my kitchen telling me he could keep us from losing another forty grand.”
Margaret said nothing.
“I signed what he put in front of me.”
Samuel continued.
“I thought it was paperwork for the transfer.”
“And last week?”
“He brought me a new agreement.”
“A new one.”
“Yes.”
“He said the bank needed clearer documentation because the original transfer was being reviewed.”
Margaret looked back at Walter’s photograph.
The document appeared clean.
Too clean.
“Did you sign the new one?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because by then I knew you hadn’t agreed to the line of credit.”
Margaret opened the image again.
“Could this be the first paper?”
“Maybe.”
“Then why did you tell me you didn’t know the money was a loan?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She replayed the afternoon in her mind.
“You said you thought I had agreed you should use the equity.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the same as believing it was a gift.”
“No.”
“What did you think it was?”
“I thought Dad and I would work out repayment later.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Samuel.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds like you were willing to take our money as long as you didn’t have to ask too many questions.”
He did not answer.
Margaret let the silence sit.
For once she did not rescue him from it.
Samuel finally said, “That’s probably true.”
Something in her chest loosened a fraction.
Not forgiveness.
Just relief at hearing one person stop arranging the truth before handing it to her.
“Did Chloe know you were borrowing from us?”
“She knew Dad was helping.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
“So you lied to her too.”
“Yes.”
Margaret looked toward the front door.
Her own house seemed unfamiliar.
Not because the furniture had changed.
Because the stories attached to it had.
The mortgage was no longer nearly paid.
Walter’s business trips were no longer business trips.
May you like
Samuel’s emergency had not been what she had been told.
Even the kitchen table felt implicated because Walter had probably sat there filling out paperwork after Margaret went to bed.
