Chương 6
It was December 26.
Offices were open, but she wasn't ready.
Instead she spent most of the day copying every document.
She photographed each page.
She created a folder on her laptop and another encrypted folder online.
She did not know if that was paranoid.
She decided she was temporarily allowed to be paranoid.
At noon Robert called.
Emily watched the phone ring.
Then answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Neither spoke.
Finally Robert said, “Your grandmother says I should let you set the pace.”
“That's a very Grandma sentence.”
“She made me write it down.”
Emily almost laughed.
Robert heard it.
The silence changed slightly.
He said, “I failed you.”
Emily stared at the steel case.
“Yes.”
“I kept telling myself Susan would handle it.”
“Did you know she was using the money?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
A pause.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid of the answer.”
Emily leaned back.
That was not the answer she expected.
Robert continued.
“Your mother was barely functioning after Michael died. Some days she didn't shower. Some days she sat at the kitchen table until midnight with the lights off. I knew about the trust. I knew about the car. I didn't know details. I thought if I pushed too hard, she would break.”
“So you protected her.”
“Yes.”
“And not me.”
“Yes.”
His honesty hurt.
But at least it stayed still when she touched it.
“Did Dad really bring the car to you the night he crashed?”
“Yes.”
“Was he angry?”
“Very.”
“At Mom?”
“At her. At himself. At dying. At the weather. At me for telling him he shouldn't drive.”
“Did you try to stop him?”
“I took his keys.”
Emily sat straighter.
“What?”
“He had the spare.”
Robert exhaled.
“I should have followed him.”
“You couldn't know.”
“No.”
“Grandpa.”
“I know. That doesn't make it disappear.”
Emily recognized that feeling.
She had spent three years thinking she should have stayed longer at the hospital the day before her father's crash, as if another hour beside him might have altered traffic, ice, physics.
“Did he talk about the trust?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Susan wanted to be able to use part of it for the house if things got bad. He didn't.”
“Why?”
“He thought she'd pour everything into keeping that place whether it made sense or not.”
Emily looked around her apartment.
She had left the family house two years earlier.
The room she grew up in was now Susan's sewing room.
“Did he hate Mom?”
Robert answered immediately.
“No.”
“Were they getting divorced?”
“No.”
“Were they unhappy?”
Another pause.
“Sometimes.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“That is not an answer.”
“It may be the only honest one. They loved each other. They also fought. Your father got very controlling when he got sick. Your mother got controlling when she got scared. Imagine two people trying to drive the same car from the passenger seat.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“That sounds like Dad.”
“It also sounds like your mother.”
“Did Grandma know more?”
“She knew Michael was worried Susan would use the trust to save the house.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“You should ask her.”
“I will.”
Robert cleared his throat.
“The yellow car needs new registration before you drive it.”
Emily blinked.
“What?”
“The battery is new. Tires are good. Fluids are done. I started it regularly. But don't drive it until the paperwork and insurance are handled.”
She almost smiled again.
“Okay.”
“I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me too much. I charged your mother for the battery.”
“Did she pay you?”
“No.”
Emily laughed.
This time it sounded almost normal.
Robert laughed too.
Then neither of them knew what to do with the normality.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
It did not mean she forgave him.
They both seemed to understand that.
Emily called Dana Whitcomb the following morning.
She expected a receptionist.
Dana answered herself.
“Whitcomb.”
“Hi. My name is Emily Parker.”
Silence.
Then, “Michael Parker's daughter?”
Emily gripped the phone.
“Yes.”
“Are you somewhere you can talk privately?”
Emily looked around her empty apartment.
“Yes.”
“All right.”
Dana's voice changed—not softer, exactly, but more careful.
“How did you get my number?”
“My dad left it in a letter.”
Another pause.
“Did Susan give you the trust documents?”
“No.”
“What did she give you?”
“A car.”
Dana was silent for so long Emily checked the screen.
“Ms. Whitcomb?”
“I am here.”
“My dad bought the car before he died.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And there was a box inside.”
Dana exhaled.
“Michael told me he was going to put copies somewhere Susan wouldn't be able to destroy them in an emotional moment. He did not tell me where.”
“Destroy?”
“I don't mean fraudulently. Your parents were having difficult conversations. Your mother once tore up a draft estate plan during an argument.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“That sounds insane.”
“It sounds like two exhausted people under extraordinary stress.”
“What is the trust?”
Dana was quiet.
Then she said, “Before I answer anything substantive, I need to make sure you understand that I represented your father in preparing the trust. I did not represent your mother personally. I can explain documents and history I am permitted to discuss, but if there is a dispute between you and your mother, you should have independent counsel.”
Emily almost laughed at how normal and procedural the sentence was.
“Is there a dispute?”
“I cannot answer that for you.”
“Did she take my money?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I have not seen an accounting since the first year after your father's death.”
Emily sat down.
“Was she supposed to send one?”
“To you? Eventually, yes. To the administrative records, yes. The exact obligations depend on the document and circumstances. I don't want to give you a legal conclusion over the phone based on incomplete information.”
May you like
That irritated Emily.
Then she realized she was irritated because Dana refused to become the convenient person who made everything simple.
