Chương 6
It was headquartered two states away and appeared to offer managed accounts and private banking services.
I did not call.
Maya had told me not to start announcing myself to unknown institutions until she had more information.
At five fifteen, I left work with copies of everything locked in the trunk of my car.
Scott texted while I was at a red light.
Dinner?
One word.
As if we were deciding between Thai and Italian.
I did not answer.
Rebecca was waiting in my driveway when I arrived.
She leaned against her car in black work pants and a blouse that had probably been neat six hours earlier.
Her dark hair was twisted into a knot with a pencil through it.
When I got out, she did not hug me.
We had never been a hugging family unless someone was leaving for an airport.
She looked at the house.
“Is he here?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
She opened her trunk.
Inside were groceries.
I stared.
“You brought food?”
“You haven’t eaten properly.”
“How would you know?”
“You forget meals when you’re angry.”
“That happened once.”
“You fainted in a Target.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“You frightened a cashier named Maurice.”
I took one of the bags.
“Maurice was dramatic.”
“He called an ambulance.”
“He was conscientious.”
We carried the groceries inside.
Rebecca stopped when she saw the box of my belongings in the dining room.
Her face changed.
“Oh.”
It was the first time she seemed to understand something I could not explain over the phone.
She crouched beside the box and lifted my mother’s photograph.
“He packed this?”
“Yes.”
“Before you agreed to leave?”
“Yes.”
She put it back carefully.
“I’m going to need you to remind me that assault is still illegal during divorce.”
“We’re not officially divorcing.”
“Fine.”
She stood.
“During whatever fresh hell this is.”
She made grilled cheese because it was the only meal she could cook without turning the kitchen into a hazardous site.
We ate at the island.
Halfway through mine, I noticed she had cut my sandwich diagonally.
Our mother always had.
I nearly said something and decided not to.
The garage door opened at seven.
Rebecca kept eating.
Scott entered through the mudroom carrying his laptop bag.
He stopped when he saw her.
“Rebecca.”
“Scott.”
He looked at me.
“I thought we agreed not to involve family yet.”
“We agreed on nothing.”
Rebecca took another bite.
Scott put his bag down.
“This is between Claire and me.”
“No,” Rebecca said.
“It stopped being between you two when you called me.”
His eyes sharpened.
I watched him calculate.
“What did you tell her?”
Rebecca laughed once.
“Interesting first question.”
Scott loosened his tie.
“Claire, can we speak privately?”
“No.”
“This is exactly what I mean.”
“I have no idea what you mean anymore.”
He glanced at Rebecca.
“You’re hearing one side.”
“I heard yours last week.”
His jaw tightened.
“You said she had signed the lease.”
“She had agreed to it.”
“No, you said signed.”
“Rebecca.”
“I remember because I asked whether she needed help moving.”
He looked at me.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
Scott walked to the refrigerator and opened it.
He stared inside.
Again.
Rebecca looked at me.
I almost laughed.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing.”
He took out sparkling water.
His hand shook slightly when he opened it.
Rebecca noticed.
So did I.
“Did you open an account at Harbor Ridge?” I asked.
He froze.
The reaction lasted barely a second.
Then he took a drink.
“I have several accounts.”
“With my money?”
“Jesus Christ.”
He set the bottle down too hard.
“You have an attorney now, don’t you?”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rose.
I said nothing.
Scott turned away from us.
“That’s where this came from.”
“What came from?”
“This interrogation.”
“No.”
I folded my hands on the counter.
“The questions came from the forged lease and the pending distribution.”
His face drained.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Rebecca saw it too.
“What distribution?” she asked.
Scott pointed at me.
“You’re discussing private financial matters with your sister now?”
“They’re Claire’s financial matters.”
“They’re marital matters.”
“Dad’s inheritance wasn’t yours,” Rebecca said.
Scott gave her a look I had seen him give waiters who corrected him.
“You don’t understand how our finances work.”
“I understand whose father died.”
“Stop.”
The word left me louder than I intended.
Both of them went silent.
I looked at Scott.
“Is the pending distribution my inheritance?”
He pulled out a stool but did not sit.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
“We consolidated assets.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“How long?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Last year.”
I felt as if the room had shifted under me.
“Without telling me?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
“Yes, Claire, I did.”
“When?”
“You signed paperwork.”
Rebecca put her sandwich down.
I heard Maya’s question from the day before.
Had Scott ever used my electronic signature with permission?
Insurance.
Taxes.
Refinancing.
Documents placed beside a cutting board while I made dinner.
“What paperwork?”
“I don’t have it memorized.”
“Then show me.”
“It’s not here.”
“Where is it?”
“At the office.”
“Your office?”
He hesitated.
“Harbor Ridge.”
Rebecca whispered something obscene.
Scott ignored her.
“The point was simplification.”
I stared at him.
“Then why shred the authorization last night?”
His eyes flicked toward me.
Rebecca slowly turned her head.
“You were shredding documents?”
“They were duplicates.”
“At two in the morning?” she asked.
Scott looked at me with naked anger now.
“You brought her here to gang up on me.”
“No.”
I kept my voice low.
“She brought groceries.”
For some reason, that sentence broke something.
He slammed his palm against the counter.
The sound cracked through the kitchen.
Rebecca jerked.
I did too.
Scott immediately looked at his hand as though it belonged to somebody else.
No one spoke.
Then he stepped back.
“I’m done with this.”
He grabbed his laptop bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Hotel.”
“Good.”
May you like
He walked toward the mudroom.
I followed him far enough to see him reach for his keys.
