Chương 8
“I need to call them.”
“You don’t need to do anything tonight.”
“I do.”
“No, you want answers tonight.”
“Same thing.”
“It absolutely is not.”
That irritated me because she was right.
I stood and walked to the refrigerator.
There was almost nothing inside except eggs, mustard, sparkling water, and a container of leftover Thai food.
I opened it anyway.
Then closed it.
“Eat something before you start a family war.”
“That sounds like advice from a fortune cookie.”
“It sounds like advice from someone who has seen you forget dinner over spreadsheets.”
I microwaved the leftovers.
While they turned slowly behind the glass, another message arrived from Kelsey.
There’s more you should know.
I stopped the microwave.
What?
She did not answer.
I called.
She picked up in a whisper.
“Derek’s in the shower.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because he doesn’t know I sent you all of those.”
“Why did you?”
There was a pause.
“Because I’m tired.”
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Not crying.
Close.
“Tired of what?”
“Everybody acting like this is one thing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your mom keeps telling Derek you can fix it.”
“My mother seems very interested in my financial capabilities.”
“She’s scared.”
“So am I.”
“I know.”
That surprised me.
Kelsey had never said anything that suggested she considered my position at all.
“Then tell me the rest.”
I heard water running faintly in the background.
She lowered her voice further.
“Your dad asked Derek if you would cosign something before you even bought the house.”
The microwave hummed behind me because I had forgotten to cancel the cycle.
I reached over and stopped it.
“What?”
“It was months ago.”
“What was he asking me to cosign?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You have to know something.”
“Derek said your dad was trying to refinance business debt or move it somewhere cheaper.”
“And Derek thought I would cosign?”
“He said no.”
That stopped me.
“He said no?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said you’d never do it and asking would just make you suspicious.”
I leaned against the counter.
The information was almost funny in a bleak way.
Derek, of all people, had apparently been the one person in the family who understood me correctly.
“Then when did my house become the plan?”
“After the judgment.”
“Which one?”
Another pause.
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“There are more debts than what you found.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kelsey.”
“I really don’t.”
The shower shut off in the background.
She spoke quickly.
“Your dad owes money to somebody who isn’t a bank.”
“What does that mean?”
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“He gave Derek cash in February.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“Mom told me thirty-eight total.”
“That ten wasn’t from the credit line.”
“Where was it from?”
“I don’t know.”
Then the call ended.
I stood with the phone still against my ear.
The kitchen smelled like overheated basil.
I did not eat.
Instead I opened my notes app and started building a timeline.
October.
Dad gives Derek money.
December.
Parents supposedly learn the full story, according to Derek, though that was clearly false.
February.
Another ten thousand in cash from an unknown source.
Spring.
My parents begin discussing whether I could cosign or borrow.
Closing week.
Mom photographs my settlement statement.
Days later.
Kelsey calculates a fifty-thousand-dollar borrowing scenario using my exact figures.
Then the moving truck.
Seen in order, the events stopped looking like panic.
They looked like planning.
Not necessarily criminal planning.
Not necessarily even intelligent planning.
But planning.
The next morning I called Dad’s office number.
A woman named Cheryl answered.
I had met her several times at holiday parties.
She handled scheduling and invoices for his company.
“Natalie?”
“Hi, Cheryl.”
“Well, hello, honey.”
Her friendliness nearly made me lose my nerve.
“Is Dad there?”
There was a pause.
“He’s out.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Hard to say.”
Something in her voice changed.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m trying to reach him about some paperwork.”
Another pause.
“What kind of paperwork?”
I almost lied.
Instead I said, “Business debt.”
Cheryl went silent.
Then she asked, “Did he put your name on something?”
The question hit so hard I gripped the phone tighter.
“No.”
“At least, not that I know of.”
She exhaled audibly.
“Then keep it that way.”
My pulse jumped.
“Cheryl, what is happening?”
“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
“You already asked if he put my name on something.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please.”
For several seconds I heard only office noise.
A printer.
A drawer closing.
Someone talking faintly in another room.
Then Cheryl said, “Your dad has been borrowing to cover old jobs.”
“What does that mean?”
“He underbid some contracts last year.”
“By how much?”
“Enough.”
The family phrase.
Enough.
Never a number until the number had already caused damage.
“Supplier bills got pushed.”
She continued reluctantly.
“Then payroll got tight.”
“Did employees miss pay?”
“No.”
She said it quickly.
“He made payroll.”
“How?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“But you know some.”
“He borrowed.”
“From whom?”
“Banks first.”
“And then?”
She lowered her voice.
“Private lenders.”
The phrase sounded worse coming from her than it had from Kelsey.
“Legitimate private lenders?”
“I’m not saying anything illegal.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I honestly don’t know.”
I sat down.
“How much does he owe?”
“I’ve never seen one complete number.”
“Try.”
“Natalie.”
“Please.”
She sighed.
“If you’re asking whether fifty thousand dollars fixes your father’s situation, no.”
My skin prickled.
“How far off?”
“I don’t know.”
“Double?”
Silence.
“Cheryl.”
“I have to go.”
“Double?”
Her next words came out almost as a whisper.
“Your father’s business problems alone are over a hundred.”
The line went dead.
I did not move.
Over a hundred thousand.
Plus Derek.
Plus Kelsey.
Plus the judgment lien.
Plus whatever they were behind on at home.
Fifty thousand dollars from me had never been enough to rescue everybody.
May you like
It had been enough to buy time.
That distinction made me feel colder than any of the actual numbers.
