Chương 8
Margaret saw the boy in him again, not because he looked young, but because he looked tired in the same helpless way he had after his father died.
He had been thirty-three then and still asked Margaret where the extra batteries were during the funeral reception.
Grief could turn adults into children without warning.
“You’re right,” he said finally.
Vanessa took one step toward him.
“Ethan.”
He held up his hand.
“I need space.”
“You’re ending this?”
“I said I need space.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I cannot trust what I think right now.”
Vanessa’s face crumpled.
“Please don’t do this in front of her.”
Margaret felt the words like a slap, though Vanessa did not mean them cruelly.
Or perhaps she did.
It was difficult to tell anymore.
Ethan looked at Margaret.
“She stays.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“She set this up.”
“Yes.”
“She came here dressed like that because she wanted to catch me.”
“Yes.”
“She hates me.”
“No,” Margaret said.
Vanessa turned.
Margaret kept her voice low.
“I dislike what you did.”
“That’s not different.”
“It is to me.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You got exactly what you wanted.”
Margaret looked down at the oversized chef’s jacket covering her wet clothes.
“No.”
The answer came more quickly than she expected.
“If I had gotten what I wanted, you would have offered me a chair.”
Vanessa went still.
Margaret continued before the sentence could turn into a performance.
“You might have called security.”
“You might have told me I could not be there.”
“You might even have been rude.”
She touched the bruised knee through the damp fabric.
“I did not come hoping to be right about you.”
Vanessa looked away.
Ethan stared at the floor.
Patricia gave a quiet scoff.
Margaret turned toward her.
“You do not believe that.”
“No.”
Patricia’s voice was flat.
“I think women like you always want to be right.”
Margaret almost asked what women like her meant.
She decided she was too tired.
“Perhaps.”
Patricia looked surprised.
Margaret picked up the terrible coffee and discovered it had gone cold.
She drank it anyway.
“I have spent most of my life being rewarded for certainty.”
Her fingers tightened around the paper cup.
“That can rot a person if she is not careful.”
Ethan looked at her.
Margaret did not return the look.
She had not intended to confess anything tonight.
Vanessa sank onto the sofa.
“I didn’t start taking money because I wanted to steal from you.”
Ethan’s eyes closed briefly.
“I know.”
That seemed to hurt her more.
She twisted the remains of the tissue between her fingers.
“My dad’s company was in trouble.”
George had left the lawn sometime during the conversation.
Margaret had almost forgotten him.
Ethan looked toward the door.
“What kind of trouble?”
Patricia’s face changed.
“Vanessa.”
“Stop.”
Her voice shook.
“You both keep telling me to stop every time something becomes embarrassing.”
Patricia’s cheeks flushed.
“This is private.”
“So was all of it.”
Vanessa turned back to Ethan.
“Dad lost two major tenants last year.”
Margaret knew George owned commercial buildings east of the city.
She did not know his finances.
“He was overleveraged,” Vanessa said.
“Rates went up, refinancing got ugly, and he had guarantees on two properties.”
Ethan’s expression remained guarded.
“How much trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
Patricia answered quietly.
“Enough.”
Vanessa stared at her mother.
Patricia sat for the first time.
Some of the fight seemed to leave her body.
“George thought he could sell one building.”
“He couldn’t.”
“The offer collapsed.”
“Then you started asking me for introductions,” Vanessa said.
Patricia looked at the carpet.
“I asked for help.”
“You asked me to get Ross near Ethan.”
Patricia lifted her head.
“Ross was interested in healthcare property.”
“He was interested in Ethan’s money.”
“Those things are not mutually exclusive.”
Ethan made a sound between disbelief and exhaustion.
Margaret looked at Patricia.
“What did Ross pay Vanessa?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Vanessa corrected her.
“Twenty-five.”
Patricia shut her eyes.
Ethan walked to the window.
Outside, the lawn was nearly empty now.
Two caterers carried a folding table toward a service truck.
A cluster of pale balloons had come loose from somewhere and pressed against the branches of an oak tree.
One kept bumping softly against the trunk.
Nobody spoke for nearly a minute.
Margaret let the silence stay.
Ethan finally said, “Did any of the money go to your father?”
Vanessa’s mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Most of it.”
Patricia shook her head.
“That is not fair.”
Vanessa stared at her.
“I paid his tax bill.”
“You offered.”
“Because you told me we could lose the house.”
“We were not losing the house.”
“You said the bank was calling.”
“That did not mean foreclosure.”
Vanessa laughed, but tears were running down her face now.
“You know what, Mom?”
“I genuinely do not know which version I’m supposed to protect anymore.”
Patricia looked as if she had been struck.
Margaret felt no pleasure in it.
Families built stories the way houses accumulated dust.
Slowly.
Almost invisibly.
Then one day sunlight hit at the right angle.
Ethan turned from the window.
“Did my money pay Melissa?”
Vanessa nodded.
He looked at Patricia.
“Did you know that?”
Patricia hesitated.
“Yes.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“Why?”
“Because by then Vanessa had already transferred most of her consulting income to George.”
“So you used my household account to silence the employee who noticed where the consulting income came from.”
Patricia stood.
“That is an ugly way to put it.”
“It is also accurate.”
“She was going to ruin Vanessa.”
“No.”
Ethan’s voice remained controlled.
“She was going to tell my foundation that someone close to me was monetizing access.”
Patricia took a breath.
“You have no idea what Melissa intended.”
“Neither do you.”
“I met her.”
“And then you paid her.”
“I negotiated a separation.”
“Using money that did not belong to you.”
Vanessa whispered, “I authorized it.”
Ethan looked at her.
She swallowed.
May you like
“You gave me access.”
“To pay household expenses.”
