Chương 12
“What kind of issues?”
“I’m not going to speculate about charges.”
“Why does every lawyer say that right before saying something frightening?”
“Because frightened clients hear certainty where there isn’t any.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“What do we actually know?”
“We know someone created an agreement in your name for thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“You say you never signed or authorized it.”
“Correct.”
“We know a spreadsheet in a shared household folder lists your initials and the same amount.”
“Yes.”
“We know Barron moved marital funds into an account he admits is his.”
“Yes.”
“We know at least twenty thousand was then sent to Bruno.”
“Yes.”
“And we have a report from Marissa that other questionable agreements exist.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It sounds worth preserving.”
My mother asked, “Can they use my daughter’s fake investment to take money from other people?”
Tony paused.
“That depends on what representations were made.”
“So yes.”
“I said it depends.”
“That means yes is possible.”
Tony gave up correcting her.
He told me he wanted to meet in person the following morning.
Not at the hotel.
At his office.
He also wanted me to bring every device I had used for banking or shared files.
“Laptop, phone, tablet.”
“I don’t have the tablet.”
“Where is it?”
“At home.”
“Leave it there.”
“Could Barron delete things from it?”
“Possibly.”
I groaned.
“I know.”
“What about my desktop?”
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“Same answer.”
“So everything useful is inside the condo.”
“Not everything.”
“Enough.”
There was a knock on the hotel door.
My mother and I froze.
Tony heard it through the phone.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
Another knock.
Then a man’s voice.
“Hotel staff.”
My mother stood.
I walked to the door without opening it.
“Yes?”
“Delivery for Adela Ruiz.”
Tony said, “Do not open the door yet.”
I looked through the peephole.
A young hotel employee stood outside holding a paper bag.
No one else was visible.
“What delivery?”
The employee checked the receipt.
“Pharmacy.”
My mother frowned.
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Neither did I.”
Tony said, “Ask him to leave it outside.”
I did.
We waited until he walked away.
Then I opened the door and pulled the bag inside.
It contained pain reliever, an ice pack, and a small box of chamomile tea.
No note.
The receipt showed Barron’s name.
My mother stared at it.
For some reason, the tea hurt more than the threats had.
Barron knew she drank chamomile before bed.
He had bought it for her twice.
“He thinks this is an apology,” she said.
“I don’t know what he thinks.”
She picked up the ice pack.
“He remembered the brand.”
I wanted to throw the entire bag away.
Instead I put it on the dresser.
My mother took the pain reliever.
Humans were inconvenient that way.
At five, Barron texted.
Did she get the delivery?
I did not answer.
Then came another.
I know what I did was wrong.
I kept staring.
My mother said nothing.
A third arrived.
I was angry and I lost control.
A fourth.
I should never have touched her.
My breath caught.
It was the first direct admission.
I immediately sent screenshots to Tony.
He replied with only two words.
Preserve everything.
Barron kept writing.
But she was provoking me and none of this would have happened if everyone had just stayed out of the office.
There it was.
The apology folding itself back into blame.
I put the phone down.
My mother turned the television sound up again.
The cooking show had ended.
A game show audience applauded a woman who had guessed the price of a washing machine.
At six-thirty, we ate sandwiches from a place downstairs.
My mother removed the tomato from hers and put it on mine without asking.
She had been doing that since I was nine.
For twenty minutes we talked about my father.
Not the important things.
His terrible dancing.
His habit of hiding batteries because he believed they lasted longer in the refrigerator.
The time he tried to assemble a grill without instructions and ended up with three extra bolts.
Then my mother said, “I lied to you.”
The words came so quietly I nearly missed them.
I stopped chewing.
“About what?”
“Barron did ask me directly to invest.”
I put down the sandwich.
“When?”
“A month ago.”
“Why did you say he didn’t?”
“Because I did not want you blaming yourself.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me there.”
My chest tightened.
“What exactly did he ask?”
“He said Dominic had a property project and that thirty-eight thousand would be a good amount for me to put in.”
The amount hit me immediately.
“Thirty-eight.”
“Yes.”
“The same amount on the agreement.”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did you give him permission to use your information?”
“No.”
“Then why is my name on the agreement instead of yours?”
My mother looked down at her hands.
“I have been thinking about that all afternoon.”
“So have I.”
She took a napkin and folded it once.
“Perhaps because you were easier.”
“Easier how?”
“Your income.”
I frowned.
“You have more reliable income than I do.”
“That would matter for an investor document?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
She folded the napkin again.
“Or perhaps he thought you would not notice.”
That one landed harder.
I had not noticed the transfers.
I had not noticed the deleted emails.
I had not noticed him telling his family I was becoming difficult about money.
Barron knew exactly how little attention I paid to the accounts because I trusted him to pay attention for both of us.
My mother reached across the table.
“Do not turn this into stupidity.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“I should have checked.”
“Yes.”
Her answer startled me.
I looked up.
She shrugged.
“You should have.”
“Thanks.”
“But people do not normally audit their spouses every week.”
May you like
“That would have helped.”
“It would also have been a miserable marriage.”
