Chương 6
Richard glared at him.
I leaned back.
"Did you ever create an account for me?"
Richard said nothing.
My mother looked at him again.
"The protected account."
He exhaled.
"There was one."
My heartbeat changed.
"How much?"
"One hundred thousand initially."
Mom stared.
"You said two fifty."
Richard closed his eyes briefly.
She stood.
"You told me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was put aside for her."
"It was supposed to be."
"What does that mean?"
"The investments declined."
I almost smiled.
Not because it was funny, but because I had spent a decade in rooms with developers, bankers, architects, clients, lawyers, and men who said words like market conditions when they meant I made a bad decision.
"What investments?"
Richard looked at me with fresh irritation.
"You wouldn't understand the structure."
"Try me."
His silence lasted too long.
I reached for my phone.
He noticed.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling my attorney."
My mother flinched.
"Thea."
"If there's an account that was supposed to be mine, I want records."
Richard laughed without humor.
"At eleven-thirty on a Saturday night?"
"She'll answer."
"Of course she will."
His contempt sounded almost automatic.
I unlocked the screen.
"Her retainer is paid."
That shut him up.
Mom came around the table.
"Please don't call anyone yet."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because I want to understand this first."
"I've spent fifteen years not understanding it."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
She stopped.
I hated the harshness in my voice, but I did not take it back.
There are apologies that are really just ways to stop discomfort.
I had made too many of those in that house.
Mom lowered her eyes.
"No," she said.
"I don't."
Derek stood.
"Do you have records at home?"
Richard answered immediately.
"Not anymore."
Mom turned.
"What do you mean?"
"The old financial files were digitized."
"Where?"
"Storage."
"Whose storage?"
"The company's."
Derek muttered, "Great."
I slipped my phone back into my purse.
"What exactly happened to the hundred thousand?"
Richard looked at the closed door.
The ballroom beyond it had grown louder.
Someone had started a toast, and muffled applause came through the wall.
"We invested it."
"We?"
"Your mother and I."
Mom shook her head.
"I never saw investment paperwork."
"You signed authorization."
"For what?"
"Linda."
"For what?"
Richard leaned both hands on the table.
"An opportunity."
I almost laughed again.
Of course it had been an opportunity.
"What kind?"
"A development partnership."
"Real estate?"
"Mixed use."
"Where?"
"Newark."
Mom's face changed.
"Riverside?"
Richard did not answer.
She stepped backward as though he had touched her.
"The Riverside project was ours."
"It was part of the same entity."
"You told me that money came from your business."
"It did."
"Some of it."
He looked away.
Derek whispered, "Oh my God."
I felt strangely calm.
Perhaps there was a point beyond anger where the body simply began conserving energy.
"Did the project fail?"
Richard shook his head.
"No."
"Then where's my money?"
His gaze returned to mine.
"The partnership was dissolved."
"With proceeds?"
"Not significant ones."
"Records."
He sighed.
"I don't have them here."
"I didn't ask whether you had them in your tuxedo."
Derek coughed into his fist.
Richard's eyes flashed.
I continued.
"Tomorrow morning, I want every statement, every partnership agreement, every transfer record, every tax document, and every piece of correspondence connected to that account."
"You don't get to issue demands."
I looked at him.
"You are currently operating a company in a building I own under a lease that expires in less than three months."
Mom closed her eyes.
I instantly disliked what I had said.
It was leverage.
It was also true.
Richard heard the threat inside it and smiled thinly.
"There she is."
My stomach tightened.
"There who is?"
"The woman you came here to prove you'd become."
He straightened.
"Powerful."
"Richard."
Mom's warning came too late.
He looked at the navy box in my hand.
"You didn't bring a gift."
"You brought a weapon."
That one landed.
Not because it was true.
Because part of it might have been.
I looked down at the box.
I had told Jonah I wanted to give my mother a chance.
I had told Aunt Patty the same thing.
But I had also known what the room would look like if they rejected me.
Some part of me had wanted that.
The reveal.
The silence.
Their embarrassment.
I had not bought the building because of them, but I had designed the gift knowing exactly how dramatic the truth could become.
That knowledge sat badly inside me.
Derek broke the silence.
"Dad, you shoved it at her."
Richard turned.
"What?"
"The box."
Derek's voice was quieter now.
"She put it on the table, and you shoved it into her chest before you knew what it was."
Richard's face changed.
Derek shrugged.
"So if we're doing the thing where everybody gets blamed for their motives, maybe start there."
For once, I had nothing sarcastic to say to him.
Richard stared at his son.
"You've had quite a transformation in the last twenty minutes."
Derek's mouth tightened.
"Yeah."
He looked at me.
"I found out my college was paid for with money her dead father meant for her."
He swallowed.
"That'll do it."
I looked away.
It would have been easier if I could keep hating him.
There was another knock.
Mom wiped beneath one eye before opening the door.
The club manager stood there again, this time with a woman in a navy blazer.
"I really am sorry," he said.
"But we do need a payment method before we continue bar service."
Mom stared at him.
Behind us, Richard said, "I'll handle it."
She turned.
"No."
He frowned.
"Linda."
"No more."
The words were barely louder than normal conversation.
She took off the diamond bracelet on her right wrist and set it on the table.
Then she reached into her evening bag and pulled out a credit card.
May you like
Richard stepped toward her.
"That card is nearly at its limit."
