Chương 13
"No."
Grant said her name softly.
She ignored him.
"I loaned him money."
"Mom."
"I loaned him my own money."
"Stop."
"I did not know where the rest came from."
Grant’s face folded inward.
Not with guilt exactly.
With defeat.
The officer looked uncomfortable now, as though the domestic call had wandered into territory beyond what he had expected.
He said, "This financial issue is something you need to discuss with counsel."
Marcus nodded.
"Agreed."
Grant looked at me.
"Can we please not do this here?"
I almost said yes.
For years, my instinct had been to reduce embarrassment.
Mine.
The children's.
Grant’s.
Even strangers'.
Then I remembered the twins behind the door.
"I’m going inside."
Grant stepped forward.
"I need my things."
"Marcus will arrange it."
"I need my laptop."
"Which one?"
"My personal laptop."
"Is it in the house?"
"Upstairs."
"Then we'll retrieve it."
"I can get it myself."
"No."
His jaw tightened again.
"Mara."
"No."
The word came easily now.
The officer said, "Sir, I think you should leave for today."
Grant looked at him.
"I have nowhere to go."
Colleen stared at him.
"You have my house."
He laughed without humor.
"That's generous."
"You were at my house last night."
"That was before you started talking."
Her face hardened.
For one surreal second, I wanted to tell them to stop fighting.
Old habits were stubborn.
Marcus touched my elbow.
"Go inside."
I nodded.
As I turned, Grant said, "I loved them."
I stopped.
He was looking at the front door.
"Maybe not the way you needed me to."
I faced him again.
"But I did."
Anger rose so quickly that I tasted metal.
"You called them leverage."
"I know."
"You said you were tired of pretending."
"I know what I said."
"Then don't rewrite it because they're listening."
Grant flinched.
"I’m not."
"Good."
I walked toward the house.
Behind me, Colleen started speaking to the officer.
Grant said nothing.
When I opened the front door, Caleb was standing five feet away.
The twins were sitting on the stairs.
Nobody looked at me.
I closed the door.
For a moment, the four of us remained where we were.
Then June asked, "What does leverage mean?"
There was no version of the afternoon in which I escaped that question.
I sat on the bottom stair.
Maisie leaned against the railing.
Caleb kept his arms crossed.
"It means using something important to make another person do what you want."
June frowned.
"So we're important?"
"Yes."
"But he wanted to use us?"
My throat closed.
"That's what he said."
Maisie whispered, "Because he doesn't like us?"
"No."
Caleb looked at me sharply.
"You don't know that."
He was right.
I swallowed.
"I don't know exactly what he feels."
"Then don't make it nicer."
The words stung.
"I’m not trying to."
"You always do."
I stared at him.
He looked furious now.
Not with Grant.
With me.
"You make everything nicer."
"Caleb."
"When Dad left, you said he was confused."
My stomach dropped.
"He was dealing with addiction."
"He still left."
"Yes."
"When Aunt Leah died, you kept saying she'd want us to be okay."
The twins went quiet.
"Caleb."
"And now you're saying Grant maybe likes us even though he called us leverage."
His voice cracked.
"I don't need everybody to secretly be good."
That sentence broke something in me.
I sat there while my twelve-year-old nephew-by-choice and son-in-every-way-that-mattered stared at me with wet eyes.
"I’m sorry."
He looked away.
"No."
"I mean it."
"You always say sorry when something isn't your fault."
"This part is."
He glanced back.
"I brought Grant into this house."
Silence.
"I trusted him."
June sat beside me.
"That isn't bad."
"No."
I put an arm around her.
"But I kept trying to make difficult things easier by giving everyone the gentlest explanation."
Caleb’s shoulders loosened slightly.
"I thought that protected you."
Maisie whispered, "Did it?"
"No."
Outside, a car door slammed.
I heard an engine start.
Grant was leaving.
This time I did not go to the window.
I looked at the three children instead.
"I don't know exactly what happens next."
Caleb wiped his face with the heel of his hand.
"Are you marrying him?"
"No."
June nodded, satisfied.
"Good."
Maisie asked, "Do we still get cake?"
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The sound startled all four of us.
Then Caleb laughed too.
It lasted only a few seconds.
It was enough.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I took it out.
Grant had sent one message.
Please do not tell my company anything until I can explain.
Marcus came through the front door behind me.
He saw the screen in my hand.
"What did he say?"
I handed him the phone.
He read the message once.
Then again.
His expression became very still.
"Now," he said, "we stop guessing about what he's afraid of."
Marcus handed the phone back to me.
"You do not reply."
I nodded.
The children watched us from the stairs.
Caleb said, "Are police coming back?"
"Not unless somebody gives them a reason."
June looked toward the door.
"Can we lock it anyway?"
I got up and turned the dead bolt.
"Yes."
That seemed to satisfy her.
Marcus waited until the children had gone upstairs before lowering his voice.
"Grant just put in writing that he is worried about what his employer might learn."
"Is that evidence?"
"Of concern, yes."
"Of theft?"
"No."
I appreciated that he did not let me turn suspicion into certainty merely because certainty would have felt better.
He forwarded the message to himself with my permission, then called Dana.
She answered on speaker.
When Marcus read Grant's text, she was quiet for a moment.
"Do nothing with it tonight."
"Why?"
"Because his employer already has counsel and an internal review."
She continued before I could interrupt.
"If they contact Mara, she answers truthfully."
"If they don't?"
May you like
"She does not insert herself into an investigation merely because her ex-fiancé is frightened."
The word ex-fiancé landed strangely.
