Chương 11
“Fine.”
Arthur returned to his phone.
Celia looked at Estelle’s letter.
“What else does he say?”
Estelle unfolded the final page again.
Her eyes moved slowly.
“He says he planned to tell me.”
Maribel closed her eyes.
Estelle laughed once.
“He says he was waiting for the right time.”
Celia looked down.
Estelle folded the page.
“There was never a right time for him.”
No one argued.
She stared at the handwriting.
“I spent thirty-nine years making excuses for a man who apparently needed an entire accounting system for his excuses.”
Leandro looked at her.
“Mom.”
She raised one hand.
“Not yet.”
He stopped.
Estelle looked at Maribel.
“Did you love him?”
Maribel’s head lifted.
The question seemed to offend her and frighten her at the same time.
Celia glanced away.
Leandro did not.
Maribel’s lips parted.
Then closed.
Estelle waited.
“Yes,” Maribel said finally.
The room became very still.
Leandro’s expression changed first.
Not anger.
Something quieter and more dangerous.
“When?”
Maribel looked at him.
“It wasn’t an affair.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I know.”
“When did you love my father?”
Maribel swallowed.
“Near the end.”
Estelle’s fingers tightened around the letter.
“How near?”
“The last year.”
Daphne moved slightly closer to her.
Estelle did not notice.
Leandro stared at Maribel.
“Did he love you?”
Maribel looked toward the lamp.
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“No.”
“People say ‘I don’t know’ when the answer embarrasses them.”
Maribel looked at him sharply.
“Sometimes people say it because they don’t know.”
Leandro’s mouth tightened.
Estelle spoke before he could.
“Did he touch you?”
Maribel looked at her.
“No.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“No.”
“Did he ask you to leave with him?”
“No.”
Estelle nodded slowly.
“Then what happened?”
Maribel’s expression softened in spite of herself.
“He talked.”
Estelle almost smiled.
“He loved talking when nobody could interrupt.”
“That too.”
“What did he talk about?”
Maribel hesitated.
“Mostly fear.”
Leandro frowned.
“Dad didn’t talk about fear.”
Maribel looked at him.
“Not with you.”
That hurt.
Leandro’s face changed.
She regretted it immediately.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
Maribel looked down.
Estelle unfolded the letter again but did not read.
“What was he afraid of?”
Maribel’s voice became quieter.
“Dying before everything was fixed.”
Celia let out a bitter breath.
“He had decades.”
“I told him that.”
“And?”
“He said decades pass faster when you’re avoiding something.”
Estelle looked at the letter.
“That sounds like him.”
Maribel nodded.
“He was afraid Alina would hate him.”
Celia said, “She does.”
“He was afraid Peter would die thinking money was the only apology he would ever get.”
Celia’s face hardened.
“It was.”
“He was afraid Leandro would find out and see him differently.”
Leandro looked toward the window.
“He solved that.”
Maribel’s mouth tightened.
“And he was afraid Estelle would leave.”
Estelle looked at her.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then she laughed softly.
It was not pleasant.
“That may be the first comforting thing I’ve heard tonight.”
Leandro looked at her.
Estelle folded the letter and placed it on the table.
“He thought I had somewhere to go.”
“Mom.”
“I’m joking.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“I’m not.”
Daphne handed her the water again.
This time Estelle drank.
The glass clicked lightly against her teeth.
Celia watched Maribel.
“Did he tell you where the redirected money went?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He told me to leave it alone.”
Celia’s expression sharpened.
“And you did?”
Maribel shook her head.
“No.”
Leandro looked at her.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing complete.”
“Something incomplete, then.”
Maribel hesitated.
“A series of transfers.”
Arthur stopped typing on his phone.
“How large?”
“Small at first.”
“How small?”
“Ten thousand.”
“That is not small.”
“To him, it was.”
Arthur frowned.
“And later?”
“Twenty.”
“How many?”
Maribel closed her eyes briefly.
“Seven that I found.”
Leandro did the arithmetic aloud.
“One hundred and forty thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Destination?”
“A consulting entity.”
“What entity?”
“Northstar Civic Advisory.”
Arthur looked up sharply.
“I know that name.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Leandro frowned.
“From where?”
Arthur stood.
“One of your father’s political philanthropy projects used them years ago.”
Estelle looked at him.
“What political project?”
Arthur hesitated.
Leandro’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t start protecting him now.”
Arthur exhaled.
“Local redevelopment.”
“That means nothing.”
“A land-use campaign.”
Maribel’s face changed.
Arthur saw it.
“You know.”
She nodded slowly.
“It was connected to the Boone property.”
Celia stood.
“What?”
Maribel looked at her.
“Peter’s construction yard.”
Celia’s face went pale.
“That land was sold after the accident.”
“Yes.”
Celia stared.
“You’re saying your father bought it.”
“No.”
Maribel’s voice was careful.
“I’m saying an entity connected to Northstar eventually acquired it.”
Celia shook her head.
“No.”
“Celia.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“That property was all Peter had left.”
Estelle looked at her.
“He sold it willingly?”
Celia laughed bitterly.
“He was on pain medication and drowning in debt.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“That is not the same as coercion.”
Celia turned on him.
“I didn’t say it was.”
Maribel said, “The sale funded part of Peter’s care.”
Celia looked at her.
“Stop.”
“I’m telling you what I found.”
“You’re telling me my brother sold the thing he built after your family put him in a wheelchair, and then the money circled back into paying for the damage.”
Maribel went quiet.
Leandro stepped closer.
“Did my father benefit from the sale?”
Maribel looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
Arthur said, “We need records before assuming that.”
Leandro nodded.
“For once, yes.”
Celia walked toward the fireplace.
Her shoulders shook once.
She pressed both hands against the mantel.
No one moved to comfort her.
It would have been insulting.
After a moment, she spoke without turning.
“Peter used to complain that the office door stuck in winter.”
Estelle looked at her.
Celia wiped beneath one eye.
“He kept a hammer behind the desk because he refused to replace the frame.”
May you like
A broken little laugh escaped her.
“He’d hit the jamb like that was a normal way to run a business.”
