Chương 8
“You always sound like this now.”
“You haven’t spoken to me in twelve years.”
“I’ve seen interviews.”
I blinked.
“What interviews?”
“Business stuff.”
My company had put me on two industry panels and one local finance podcast.
The idea of Madison watching those without contacting me felt strangely intimate.
“You knew what I was doing?”
“Of course I knew.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Why didn’t you?”
That was fair enough that I did not answer immediately.
Outside my office, someone laughed near the printer.
A phone rang twice.
Normal life continued five feet away.
Madison lowered her voice.
“Do you know what Mom said every time your name came up?”
“No.”
“She said you thought you were better than us.”
I closed my eyes.
“And you believed her?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was easier.”
The answer came so plainly that I opened my eyes again.
She continued before I could respond.
“If you were arrogant, then you weren’t hurt.”
I said nothing.
“If you were selfish, then we didn’t do anything wrong.”
The knocking came again.
This time Nathan’s voice was clearer.
“Madison.”
She covered the phone, but not before I heard him say, “We need to talk.”
Her breathing changed.
“Go,” I said.
“Claire.”
“Talk to him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I need to know.”
“You’ve had twelve years of knowing things about my life that I didn’t know myself.”
She went quiet.
“You can survive not knowing for an afternoon.”
I ended the call.
My meeting started nine minutes late.
I apologized without explanation and spent forty-three minutes discussing fuel exposure, contract renewals, and whether two warehouse leases should be consolidated.
Nobody in the room knew that my sister might be losing her fiancé while I compared operating costs on a spreadsheet.
That should have felt absurd.
Instead, it steadied me.
A life could hold catastrophe and routine at the same time.
After work, I drove to Lena’s house.
She lived in a suburb north of the city now, in a split-level home with a basketball hoop leaning slightly toward the driveway.
Her husband, Marco, opened the door with a dish towel over one shoulder.
“You look terrible.”
“Good to see you too.”
“Lena said not to lie.”
From the kitchen, Lena shouted, “I said don’t compliment her.”
Marco stepped aside.
Their son Mateo was at the table doing math homework and eating dry cereal directly from the box.
He looked up.
“Hi, Claire.”
“Hi.”
“Mom says your family is having a crisis.”
Lena appeared behind him.
“Mom also says children should mind their business.”
“You told Dad.”
“Your father is forty-one.”
Mateo considered this and returned to his worksheet.
I sat at the counter while Lena pushed a plate of enchiladas toward me.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Incorrect.”
“I can’t eat.”
“Also incorrect.”
Marco opened the refrigerator.
“She gets bossier at home.”
“I heard that.”
“I intended you to.”
I ate because arguing required more energy.
Halfway through the plate, I told Lena what Madison had said.
Lena rested both elbows on the counter.
“So Nathan doesn’t know.”
“Apparently.”
“And the wedding is Saturday.”
“Yes.”
“Are you still going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You RSVP’d.”
“That was before I discovered my family apparently used my legal existence as communal office equipment.”
Marco stopped pouring iced tea.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Lena waved him off.
“Later.”
He nodded and carried the tea away with the expression of a man experienced in postponing curiosity.
“I want to go,” I said.
Lena studied me.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not true.”
I picked at the edge of my napkin.
“I want to see what happens.”
“Spectator reason.”
“I want to see Dad.”
“Relationship reason.”
“I want to look Mom in the face.”
“Combat reason.”
I glared at her.
“Are you billing me?”
“No, but I could.”
I almost smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“I want Madison to tell me the truth when she can’t hang up.”
Lena nodded once.
“That one sounds real.”
My phone buzzed.
I expected Rebecca.
It was an unknown number.
I answered.
“Claire Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Nathan Cole.”
Lena’s eyebrows rose.
I stood and carried the phone into the laundry room because privacy in her house was mostly theoretical.
A dryer turned slowly behind me, thumping every few seconds with something heavy inside.
“Nathan.”
“I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
It was such a polite sentence that I almost laughed.
“It’s complicated.”
“I imagine.”
His voice sounded controlled but tired.
“I got your number from counsel.”
I leaned against the washing machine.
“Okay.”
“I wanted to speak to you directly.”
“I’m not sure my attorney would love that.”
“Mine definitely does not.”
That surprised me.
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because my wedding is forty hours away.”
There was no accusation in it.
Only exhaustion.
“I heard.”
“Madison told me some of what happened.”
“Some?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
I looked through the small window above the utility sink.
Lena’s neighbor was dragging two trash bins toward the curb.
“What did she tell you?”
“That your grandfather established ownership interests for both of you.”
“Yes.”
“That your family continued acting on your behalf after you left.”
“That’s a generous description.”
“I’m trying not to make legal conclusions.”
“Your lawyers trained you well.”
“They charge enough.”
I heard papers move on his end.
“She also said she signed several documents as a witness.”
“She did.”
“And that at least one electronic account associated with you was created by her.”
“Yes.”
“She said your mother told her you had authorized it.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did she believe that?”
“She says she did at first.”
“At first.”
Nathan did not answer immediately.
“No.”
The dryer thumped behind me.
“What happened later?”
“She started suspecting you had not authorized everything.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“Did she say why she kept going?”
“She said the store was struggling.”
May you like
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I’m not defending it.”
