Chương 7
He sent three screenshots.
The invoices looked legitimate at first glance.
A company name.
A local address.
Itemized work.
My cottage address in the service field.
Then I noticed the email at the bottom.
It was a free webmail account.
No license number appeared anywhere.
No contractor number.
No phone extension.
I enlarged the second image.
The formatting shifted slightly around the total.
Mark saw my face.
“What?”
“These might be fake.”
He stared at the screen.
“No.”
“I said might.”
“She sent these to my dad too.”
“Then don’t delete anything.”
He nodded.
The side door opened.
Jenna stepped out.
Her face was blotchy, but dry.
“What are you showing him?”
Mark locked his phone.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Cute.”
He looked at her.
“I’m taking the boys home.”
“I’m coming.”
“I know.”
She folded her arms.
He took a breath.
“Then go pack.”
For a moment I thought she would fight him.
Instead, she looked at me.
“You happy?”
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“You keep asking that like my feelings change the facts.”
“They matter to you.”
“Yes.”
She waited.
I looked past her toward the house.
“I’m angry enough that part of me wants you embarrassed.”
Her face tightened.
“But?”
“But I don’t want your marriage wrecked.”
She stared at me.
“You expect points for that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She turned away.
I stopped her.
“Jenna.”
She looked back.
“Did you make the invoices?”
Everything in her face changed at once.
Not guilt exactly.
Recognition.
She knew which invoices.
That was enough to answer one question and create several worse ones.
Mark looked at her.
“What invoices?”
Jenna’s eyes stayed on mine.
“I was going to fix everything.”
Mark went pale.
“Jenna.”
She closed her eyes.
“I just needed time.”
My father opened the front door behind her.
He had heard enough to understand.
His voice came out rough.
“Fix what?”
Jenna turned toward him.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked like someone who had run out of places to hide.
“I used more of the money than I told you.”
My father’s hand remained on the doorknob.
“How much?”
She looked at the porch boards.
“Most of it.”
Mark swore under his breath.
My father did not.
That frightened me more.
He stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him.
“Where did it go?”
Jenna looked at me, then Mark, then our father.
“Credit cards, the house, school deposits, some taxes.”
Mark stared at her.
“What taxes?”
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
“I missed a quarterly payment.”
“You don’t have quarterly taxes.”
“I do for the consulting work.”
“What consulting work?”
She looked at him.
The silence that followed was different from all the others.
Mark took one step toward her.
“What consulting work?”
Jenna’s shoulders collapsed.
“I lost my job in March.”
Mark stared at her as if she had switched languages.
“What?”
Jenna wiped at one cheek with the heel of her hand.
“I lost my job in March.”
“No.”
She laughed once, quietly.
“I did.”
“You go to work every day.”
“I leave the house every day.”
My father turned away and looked toward the ocean.
Mark’s face had gone slack.
“Where do you go?”
“Coffee shops.”
“Jenna.”
“The library sometimes.”
He stared.
“You put on work clothes.”
“I know.”
“You complain about traffic.”
“I know.”
“You told me Sharon moved your Tuesday meeting.”
“She probably did.”
“Who is Sharon?”
Jenna pressed both hands to her face.
“No one.”
Mark stepped backward.
The porch railing stopped him.
For a second he gripped it as though the house had shifted under his feet.
The twins were somewhere inside, dragging suitcase wheels across the floor.
Their voices floated through the closed door.
One of them was arguing about a charger.
The sound made everything worse because the world had not changed for them yet.
Mark looked at me.
I could see the question before he asked it.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
He nodded, almost to himself.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Jenna lowered her hands.
“I was trying to fix it before anyone found out.”
“By pretending to have a job?”
“By finding another one.”
“For five months?”
“I’ve had interviews.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“Have you?”
Her face hardened.
“Yes.”
“How would I know?”
She flinched.
That finally made him stop.
He looked at the driveway instead of her.
My father rubbed a hand over his mouth.
“What happened to the job?”
Jenna’s expression changed again.
Shame moved in where anger had been.
“They eliminated my department.”
“All of it?”
“Most of it.”
“Were you fired?”
She swallowed.
“Technically laid off.”
Mark looked at her.
“What does technically mean?”
“It means they gave me severance.”
“And you told me you got a bonus.”
She said nothing.
His eyes closed.
“I deposited that.”
“I know.”
“That was severance.”
“Yes.”
He whispered something I could not hear.
My father stepped closer to Jenna.
“Why didn’t you call us?”
She looked at him almost angrily.
“To say what?”
“That you needed help.”
“I did ask for help.”
“For a patio.”
Her mouth twisted.
“Would you have given me twenty-five thousand if I said I was unemployed and thirty-seven thousand in debt?”
My father did not answer.
Jenna nodded.
“Right.”
“That doesn’t excuse lying.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“You made fake invoices.”
“I know.”
“You took money from us under false pretenses.”
“I know.”
Each answer came smaller.
Mark looked down at his phone.
“How much severance?”
“Three months.”
“And unemployment?”
“I didn’t apply at first.”
His head snapped up.
“Why not?”
“I thought I’d have another job immediately.”
“For Christ’s sake.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He turned away.
“You do not get to say that like it fixes anything.”
“I’m not saying it fixes anything.”
“Then stop saying it.”
She stopped.
My father sat on the porch step.
May you like
I had never seen him sit there before.
He was always telling people not to block doorways.
