Chương 4
Dad closed his eyes.
I gripped the folder harder.
"Who forged my signature?"
Neither answered.
"Who?"
Dad looked at Mom.
Mom looked at me.
That was answer enough.
I felt my fingernails press through the paper.
Jared stood up.
"Mom?"
She ignored him.
"Your grandfather was irresponsible."
"You told me he was brilliant."
"He was brilliant at making money and terrible at protecting it."
"So you protected it by stealing mine?"
"It was not stealing."
The speed of her answer told me she had practiced it.
"What would you call it?"
"Management."
I stared at her.
She took a breath and smoothed the front of her blouse.
"When your grandfather died, the company was unstable."
"You said it was worthless."
"It could have become worthless."
"But it didn't."
"Because we saved it."
"We?"
"Your father and I."
Dad said quietly, "Susan."
She spun toward him.
"No, absolutely not."
Her voice climbed.
"We worked sixteen-hour days while everyone else got to sit around waiting for distributions."
"I was fifteen."
"I am aware of how old you were."
Jared said, "What distributions?"
Nobody answered him.
He stepped between us.
"No, stop doing that."
His face had changed.
He looked frightened now.
"Was there money for me too?"
Mom's silence gave him what he needed.
He laughed.
"Wow."
"Jared," she said.
"How much?"
"It isn't relevant."
"How much?"
He sounded like me.
That seemed to unsettle her.
Dad leaned forward.
"Both trusts were created at the same time."
Jared turned toward him.
"Both?"
"Your grandfather divided ownership between you."
"How much was mine?"
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Originally?"
Jared stared.
"What does originally mean?"
Mom walked toward the kitchen.
I blocked her.
"You're not going anywhere."
"I need water."
"You know where the sink is."
For the first time, she looked at me with something other than contempt.
It was assessment.
She was measuring how much of the old Naomi remained.
I wasn't sure myself.
Dad said, "Twenty-five percent each."
Jared gave a short laugh.
"So half the company belonged to us?"
"Not exactly."
"That's exactly what you just said."
"The trust held nonvoting interests."
"I don't care if they could vote for president."
He stepped toward Dad.
"What happened to mine?"
Dad looked at him.
"You received the benefit of it."
Jared blinked.
"The benefit?"
"School."
"You paid for college because Grandpa left me money?"
"And your apartments."
Jared's face reddened.
"You told me you were helping me."
"We were."
"No, you were spending my money and calling yourselves generous."
Mom turned on him.
"We covered losses in two businesses."
"With whose money?"
She stopped.
Jared took another step.
"With whose money?"
Dad answered.
"Mostly yours."
Jared sat down again.
His phone slipped from his hand onto the cushion.
He didn't pick it up.
For years I had resented the way my parents rescued him.
Now another possibility opened beneath that resentment.
Maybe the rescues had never cost them what they pretended.
Maybe every favor came from the same hidden account they used to keep him dependent.
"What about mine?" I asked.
Dad looked sick.
Mom folded her arms.
"You were always different."
I waited.
"You didn't need as much."
"That isn't an answer."
"You had scholarships."
"That isn't an answer."
"You married Johnny."
My throat tightened at his name.
Mom saw it and kept going anyway.
"He had a stable career."
"So because I didn't fail often enough, you kept my money?"
"Don't make it sound ugly."
I laughed.
It surprised all of us.
The sound was dry and brief.
"I don't think I have to."
Dad stood.
"Naomi, the original plan was temporary."
Mom closed her eyes.
"Richard."
"No."
He looked at her.
"No more."
I had never heard him speak to her like that.
She seemed not to recognize him.
He turned back to me.
"The company needed credit after your grandfather died."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"The trust assets strengthened the balance sheet."
I stared.
"You used our shares as collateral?"
"At first."
"At first?"
He swallowed.
"Then there was refinancing."
Mom said, "You're making this sound criminal."
Dad looked at her.
"It became criminal."
The room contracted around those words.
Jared stood very still.
I could hear a truck reversing somewhere down the street, the beeping mechanical and absurdly normal.
A dog barked twice.
Someone's sprinkler clicked against a driveway.
My husband and daughter were dead.
My parents had forged documents in my name.
And outside, somebody was probably deciding whether to mow the lawn before lunch.
I sat on the bottom stair.
"What did Johnny find?"
Dad stared at the folder.
"How much is in there?"
"Enough."
Mom's head snapped toward me.
"Enough for what?"
I ignored her.
"Dad."
He walked to the window and looked outside.
"Johnny came to see me in January."
That was the first thing I hadn't known.
"He never told me."
"He said he wouldn't until he knew whether he was right."
My hands went cold.
"What did he ask you?"
"About the sale."
"What sale?"
Dad turned around.
Mom said sharply, "Richard, stop."
He didn't.
"Hale Machine Works was sold eleven years ago."
I knew that.
My parents had celebrated by taking the family to Italy.
They told everyone the sale had secured their retirement.
"The buyers paid partly in cash and partly in equity."
I waited.
"Your trust interests should have converted."
"Should have?"
"We transferred them before closing."
"To whom?"
Dad looked at Mom.
She refused to answer.
He did.
"Hale Family Holdings."
I glanced at the cover sheet.
The company Johnny's accountants had been investigating.
"Your company."
"Our company," Mom said.
Dad shook his head.
"Not legally."
That got her attention.
"What does that mean?"
He seemed almost relieved to finally hurt her back.
"Johnny found the operating agreement."
Mom went completely still.
I had seen her angry thousands of times.
I had seen her offended, smug, impatient, triumphant, wounded.
May you like
I had never seen fear strip her face so quickly.
"What operating agreement?" Jared asked.
