Chương 10
“And they fight after they think I’m asleep.”
“About what?”
“Wade.”
My phone rang.
Stephanie.
At the same moment, headlights swept across Evelyn’s front window.
A car pulled into the driveway.
Mason looked outside.
“That’s Mom.”
The ringing stopped.
Three hard knocks sounded at the door.
Mason took a step backward.
I did not.
Stephanie knocked again.
“Mom, open the door.”
Her voice carried through the wood.
Evelyn looked at me.
“This is your call.”
I went to the door and opened it.
Stephanie stood there alone.
Her makeup was gone.
Her face was blotchy.
She saw Mason behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I walked.”
“You what?”
“He’s fine,” I said.
She ignored me.
“Mason, get in the car.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re yelling about Grandma leaving.”
“I said get in the car.”
He crossed his arms.
Stephanie looked at me.
“See?”
“See what?”
“This.”
She gestured toward him.
“You’re pulling him into it.”
“He came here by himself.”
“Because you left.”
The accusation landed.
A few hours earlier, I might have accepted it.
Instead, I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
She hesitated.
Then she entered.
The four of us stood in Evelyn’s small living room, surrounded by family photographs that had nothing to do with us.
Stephanie saw the legal pad.
The banking statements.
The county record on the tablet.
Her face changed.
“You went through everything.”
“Yes.”
“You had no right to pull Clinton’s records.”
“They’re public property records.”
She looked toward Mason.
“Go sit in the kitchen.”
“No.”
“Mason.”
“I heard you this morning.”
Stephanie froze.
He looked frightened now, but he kept going.
“You said Grandma would leave if she saw the lawyer letter.”
Her eyes closed.
That was answer enough.
I felt something inside me settle.
Not rage.
Not triumph.
A decision.
“Stephanie,” I said, “I need you to tell me the truth about Wade.”
She opened her eyes.
For once, she did not deny anything.
She sat down heavily on Evelyn’s sofa and covered her face with both hands.
When she spoke, her voice was muffled.
“Clinton gave him your renovation money.”
Mason stopped breathing for a second.
I did too.
Stephanie lowered her hands.
“He said Wade would do the work cheaper and we’d still have enough left to fix the rest of the house.”
“How much did Clinton give him?”
“All of it.”
“Forty-nine thousand five hundred?”
She nodded.
“And what happened?”
“Wade used most of it to cover debts.”
“Did you know?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
Her eyes filled.
“Before the first reimbursement payment.”
That meant years.
Years of knowing.
Years of watching me pay their bills.
Years of opening my mail.
Years of telling me they were supporting me.
I sat across from her.
“What were you going to fix in nine days?”
Stephanie looked at the floor.
“We were trying to refinance again.”
“And pay me?”
She did not answer.
“Stephanie.”
Her face crumpled.
“No.”
The word barely came out.
“Then what?”
She looked at me.
“Clinton wanted you to sign another modification.”
“What kind of modification?”
Stephanie wiped beneath one eye with the side of her finger.
“One that would extend the deadline.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
Evelyn made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.
Stephanie looked at her.
“I know how it sounds.”
“No,” Evelyn said.
“I don’t think you do.”
I kept my eyes on my daughter.
“What would I have gotten in return?”
Stephanie swallowed.
“Continued occupancy.”
I stared at her.
“In the sewing room.”
“It wouldn’t have been written that way.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Her voice fell.
“The plan was to finish the suite eventually.”
“Eventually.”
“Mom, we were trying to keep the house.”
That was the first time she said it.
Not the arrangement.
Not the dinner.
Not Clinton’s promotion.
The house.
I leaned back in the chair.
“Are you in danger of losing it?”
She looked toward Mason.
He was still standing near the kitchen doorway, arms folded tightly over his chest.
“Mason,” she said, “please go outside for five minutes.”
“No.”
“This is not something you need to hear.”
“It’s my house too.”
“No, it isn’t.”
The words came out sharper than she intended.
His face changed.
Stephanie saw it.
“I mean legally.”
“Yeah.”
He grabbed his backpack.
“I got it.”
“Mason.”
He walked out the front door.
She stood as if to follow him.
I caught her wrist.
“Let him breathe.”
She looked down at my hand.
I let go.
For years, I had stepped between Stephanie and every discomfort I thought she could not bear.
Now I was telling her to allow her son one.
Maybe that was cruelty.
Maybe it was overdue.
“Are you losing the house?” I asked again.
She sat back down.
“We’re behind.”
“How far?”
“Three payments.”
Evelyn stopped pretending not to listen.
“Three mortgage payments?”
Stephanie nodded.
I felt something heavy settle in my stomach.
“How much is the payment?”
“Thirty-one hundred.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
My six hundred dollars a month had not been a contribution.
It had been a finger pressed against a leak in a dam.
“What happened?”
“Clinton’s commissions dropped.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“And you?”
“I’m still working.”
Stephanie handled billing for a dental practice three days a week.
For years, she had said the schedule was perfect because it gave her time with Mason.
At sixteen, Mason spent most of his free hours with friends or at basketball practice.
I had never asked why she had not increased her hours.
The answer seemed suddenly important.
“Why didn’t you work full time?”
She stared at me.
“I did ask.”
“And?”
“My office offered me another day.”
“So?”
“Clinton said it would mess up everything at home.”
“What everything?”
“Meals, errands, Mason.”
I almost laughed.
“I do meals and errands.”
“I know.”
“Then what would it mess up?”
May you like
Her face hardened.
“You don’t understand our marriage.”
