Chương 4
“I am aware.”
“I could be eleven soon.”
“In approximately a year.”
She stared at me in the mirror.
“Very funny.”
The frosting had hardened near her scalp.
We ended up leaning over the kitchen sink because she decided the shower would sting her cheek.
I worked conditioner through her hair while she complained that the water was either freezing or boiling with no acceptable temperature between.
By the time we finished, midnight had passed.
I found one remaining birthday candle in the grocery bag I had brought home with the unused plates.
It was bent near the bottom.
June watched me stick it into a store-bought chocolate pudding cup from the refrigerator.
“That is pathetic.”
“It is artisanal.”
“It is pudding.”
“I personally removed the foil.”
She laughed then.
A real laugh.
Small, but real.
I lit the candle.
“You already made a wish,” I said.
“It got smashed.”
“Fair point.”
She closed her eyes.
I watched her face in the candlelight.
A white strip crossed the skin beneath her eye.
There were damp curls around her forehead.
When she opened her eyes, she blew the candle out.
I did not ask what she wished for.
Rebecca had always said asking ruined the contract.
June ate three bites before setting the spoon down.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we poor?”
The question landed so unexpectedly that I stared at her.
“Why are you asking?”
“Grandpa said inheritance.”
I pulled out the chair across from her.
“We’re not poor.”
“Are we rich?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She scraped pudding from the side of the cup.
“Are we going to lose our apartment?”
“No.”
“Your truck?”
“Hopefully not, because it currently runs.”
She gave me an impatient look.
“Dad.”
“No, June.”
I leaned forward.
“We are okay.”
“Because Grandpa said you’d come crawling back if you needed something.”
I hated that she had heard that sentence.
More than that, I hated that part of me had spent years fearing he might be right.
“We have what we need.”
She nodded slowly.
Then she asked, “Do we need them?”
I looked toward the dark window over the sink.
Across the courtyard, someone had left a bathroom light on.
A television flashed blue against another apartment’s blinds.
“I don’t know,” I said.
That was the most truthful answer I had.
June finished the pudding.
I made up the couch for myself because she asked if she could sleep in my bed.
At two seventeen, I was still awake.
My phone lit the dark room.
Mara.
I answered because she had been the only adult in my parents’ house who seemed more worried about June than the furniture.
“How is she?”
“She’s okay.”
“Stitches?”
“Glue strips.”
Mara exhaled.
“Good.”
A pause followed.
Then she said, “Your dad is telling everyone you attacked Blake.”
“Of course he is.”
“He says you were looking for a reason to make a scene.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“Was I?”
“No.”
Her answer came quickly.
“Absolutely not.”
“Did anyone else see what happened clearly?”
“I did.”
“So did Aunt Carol, I think.”
“Carol is already saying Blake barely touched her.”
I laughed once.
“Fast work.”
“Your mother is a mess.”
“About June?”
Mara did not answer.
That was an answer.
I rubbed my eyes.
“Mara, I can’t do family politics tonight.”
“I know.”
She hesitated.
“Just don’t delete anything.”
“What?”
“Texts.”
I sat up.
“Why?”
“Because Blake is drunk.”
“He was drinking?”
“He has been since you left.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“No, but now he’s texting people.”
“About what?”
“You.”
My stomach tightened.
“What is he saying?”
“That you assaulted him because you’re unstable.”
I looked toward the hallway.
June’s bedroom door was open.
Her night-light cast a thin stripe across the floor.
“Mara.”
“Yeah?”
“What exactly is he saying?”
“He says everybody knows you’ve been angry since Rebecca died.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
Mara continued before I could respond.
“And he says you’ve been jealous of him for years because Walter plans to leave him control of the company.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I should have stopped him before he touched her.”
“You didn’t know he was going to.”
“I saw him come up behind her.”
“Mara.”
“I laughed.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“I thought he was going to smear frosting on her nose or something stupid.”
“So did everyone.”
“I keep seeing it.”
I leaned my elbows on my knees.
“You helped her.”
“After.”
“You helped her.”
She went quiet.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
I waited.
“Your dad told Blake not to worry.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
I almost smiled.
“That narrows it down.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Listen to me.”
I stopped.
“I was in the kitchen getting water.”
“Okay.”
“Walter and Blake were in the study.”
“They knew you were there?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What did they say?”
“I only heard part.”
Mara lowered her voice, although she was presumably alone.
“Blake asked if you could challenge something.”
“Challenge what?”
“I don’t know.”
“The inheritance?”
“Maybe.”
I stood and walked toward the kitchen without turning on lights.
“What did Dad say?”
“He said, ‘Not after Monday.’”
I stopped.
“Monday?”
“That’s what I heard.”
The clock on the microwave read 2:26.
It was technically Sunday morning.
“Did he say anything else?”
“He told Blake the documents were already with Garrett.”
I knew the name.
Charles Garrett had been my father’s attorney for as long as I could remember.
“What documents?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mara, are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I pressed my palm against the counter.
For years, my father had used inheritance as a vague promise and an occasional weapon.
I had never asked what he intended to leave me.
Asking would have felt like admitting I was waiting for him to die.
Now, less than six hours after he threatened to cut me out, documents were apparently waiting for his lawyer on a Monday morning.
“That was fast.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
May you like
“I don’t think this started tonight.”
The refrigerator clicked on.
