Chương 9
Then she looked out the window.
“Your father had an affair.”
“Yes.”
“Almost a year.”
“He told me.”
She nodded.
I waited.
“You’re not surprised.”
“I am.”
“You don’t look surprised.”
“I have been married to Rogelio long enough to understand that confidence and honesty are unrelated.”
That sentence hurt in ways I could not organize.
My father had always seemed immovable to me.
Even his mistakes had felt like weather.
Something the rest of us adjusted to.
Now my mother was describing him like a man she had been measuring quietly for years.
“What made you think it was Mariana?”
She rubbed her thumb over the handle of her purse.
“I saw her leaving his room twice.”
“You asked her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she was helping him with paperwork.”
“And you didn’t believe her.”
“I wanted to.”
The phrase stayed between us.
My mother continued.
“Then I found one of her hair ties beside his bed.”
I frowned.
“Mariana’s?”
“I thought it was.”
“Was it?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared through the windshield.
“It was black.”
“That describes every hair tie ever manufactured.”
“I know that now.”
There was bitterness in her voice, but also embarrassment.
“I behaved badly toward her.”
“How?”
“I watched her.”
“You watched her?”
“Not like a detective.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I noticed things.”
“Mom.”
“I checked when she came and went.”
I glanced at her.
“She knew?”
“I think so.”
That explained more than I wanted it to.
Mariana had been protecting my wedding while my mother silently suspected her and my father used her as cover for financial problems she had not created.
No wonder she had become evasive.
It did not erase what she had hidden from me.
It made the hiding uglier in a different way.
My phone buzzed at a red light.
Mariana.
I let it ring.
Teresa looked at the screen.
“Answer your wife.”
“I’m driving.”
“You have Bluetooth.”
“I don’t want to.”
“That is different.”
The light turned green.
I drove.
Mom said nothing else about it.
Ten minutes later, Mariana sent a message.
I read it when we stopped at another light.
Ernesto gave me the check.
The payee is not Claudia.
Another message appeared.
Call me when you can.
I handed the phone to my mother.
She read the messages.
“Who is it made out to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Call her.”
“You just told me to drive.”
“I changed my mind.”
I called through the car.
Mariana answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“With Mom.”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“The cashier’s check is payable to Northline Storage Holdings.”
“Storage?”
“Yes.”
“Dad said the monthly payments weren’t storage.”
“They weren’t.”
“What is Northline?”
“I searched the New York business registry.”
“You can do that that fast?”
“Yes, Daniel, the internet remains available during family crises.”
My mother covered a smile with one hand.
I almost smiled too.
Then Mariana continued.
“Northline Storage Holdings was formed seven months ago.”
“By Claudia?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“That’s the problem.”
My mother leaned toward the speaker.
“Who owns it?”
“On the public filing, the organizer is a registered-agent service.”
“That tells us nothing,” I said.
“Mostly.”
“What does mostly mean?”
“The mailing address is a warehouse in East Syracuse.”
“Dad’s?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“Ernesto says he knows it.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Put him on.”
A rustle followed.
My uncle’s voice came through.
“Daniel.”
“What warehouse?”
He hesitated.
“Your father rented it years ago.”
“For what?”
“Overflow equipment.”
“Does he still rent it?”
“No.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because Claudia used to keep records there.”
Mariana came back onto the call.
“And according to Ernesto, she had her own key.”
My mother sat straighter.
“What kind of records?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I heard a car door close on their end.
Then Mariana said, “We’re going there.”
“No.”
The word came out immediately.
“Daniel.”
“Wait until I get back.”
“Why?”
“Because we have no idea what’s inside.”
“It’s a warehouse, not a cartel compound.”
“Mariana.”
“What?”
“Just don’t go.”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “You don’t get to order me around because you’re angry.”
“I’m not ordering you around.”
“You literally just told me not to go.”
“I’m asking.”
“That did not sound like asking.”
My mother looked out the window.
I could feel her trying very hard not to become part of another married couple’s argument.
“I don’t want you walking into some building Claudia had access to when we don’t know what she’s doing.”
Mariana’s voice softened slightly.
“I’m not going alone.”
“Ernesto is not exactly filling me with confidence today.”
“Fair.”
My uncle said something in the background that I could not hear.
Mariana continued.
“We won’t enter if anything looks wrong.”
“Wait for me.”
“Where are you taking Teresa?”
“Aunt Celia’s.”
“That’s almost an hour away.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sitting at Rogelio’s house for two hours.”
“Then go home.”
Silence.
The wrongness of the phrase hit me only after I said it.
Our home.
The place where less than an hour earlier I had accused her of helping my father betray me.
“I might,” she said.
Then the call ended.
My mother waited several seconds.
“You are angry with the wrong person.”
“I’m angry with several people.”
“That can become a hobby.”
I gave her a look.
She shrugged.
“I have experience.”
We drove another mile.
Then she said, “Your wife should have told you.”
“Thank you.”
“That does not mean she caused what happened.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I did not answer.
Aunt Celia lived in a yellow house outside Canastota with plastic flowers in the front window and a wooden goose on the porch that wore seasonal outfits.
That day the goose wore a tiny orange scarf.
My aunt opened the door before we reached it.
She looked at Teresa’s overnight bag.
Then at me.
Then back at Teresa.
“Who died?”
“Nobody.”
Celia stepped aside.
“Then somebody cheated.”
May you like
My mother closed her eyes.
“Can I come in before you solve the whole thing?”
