Chương 5
Margaret read it twice.
Then she handed the phone back.
“He’s separating himself from her.”
“That’s how it sounds.”
“You said they both forged it.”
“I said the deed they forged is with the police.”
“That’s different?”
“It might be.”
Emily waited.
Margaret wiped her fork on the edge of the plate.
“The signature looks like mine. I don’t know who physically wrote it.”
“Did Ryan know?”
“I believe he did.”
“Because?”
Margaret looked at her daughter.
The detective’s warning again.
Don’t start building the case for people.
“He knew enough to tell me to leave my house.”
Emily nodded slowly.
Her phone lit up again.
Ryan.
This time he was calling.
Emily stared at the screen.
“Answer it if you want.”
“I don’t.”
The phone stopped.
Then rang again.
Emily turned it face down.
Margaret cut another small bite of pie.
“You know,” she said, “I worked on that crust for an hour.”
Emily looked at her.
“It’s store-bought.”
“I know.”
A startled laugh escaped Emily.
Margaret laughed too.
The sound felt almost indecent in the quiet kitchen.
Then Emily began crying.
Not dramatically.
Her face simply folded.
Margaret put down her fork.
Emily shook her head when Margaret moved toward her.
“Give me a second.”
Margaret stopped.
It was harder than hugging her.
Emily pressed both palms against the counter.
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
“I’m so mad at him for dying.”
“I know.”
“And I’m mad at Ryan for making everything ugly.”
Margaret’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“And I’m mad at you.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked up.
“You’re taking that surprisingly well.”
“I’m tired.”
That made Emily laugh through her tears.
Margaret finally put one arm around her.
Emily leaned against her shoulder.
Neither apologized.
At nine the next morning, Ryan came back.
Margaret saw his SUV through the front window and felt her stomach tighten.
Emily was upstairs showering.
Margaret considered not opening the door.
Then Ryan knocked.
Not his usual two quick taps before walking in.
A real knock.
Margaret opened the door but left the storm door latched.
Ryan stood on the porch in yesterday’s sweater.
He had not shaved.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
His face stiffened.
“I need clothes.”
Margaret had forgotten that half his wardrobe was in the guest suite over the garage.
“You can get them later.”
“When?”
“When Emily is awake.”
“Why does Emily have to supervise me?”
“She doesn’t.”
“Then let me in.”
“No.”
He looked past her into the foyer.
“This is insane.”
Margaret said nothing.
Ryan shoved both hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t forge your signature.”
Margaret’s pulse began beating faster.
“Then tell the detective that.”
“Vanessa filled out the deed.”
Margaret waited.
“She said it was basically estate paperwork.”
“You believed that?”
“She handles contracts all the time.”
“Did you think I had given you the house?”
Ryan looked toward the street.
A neighbor was walking a golden retriever in a red sweater.
The dog stopped to smell Margaret’s mailbox.
Ryan waited until they had passed.
“I thought Dad intended me to have it eventually.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His mouth tightened.
“No.”
“Did you think I had signed a deed giving you the house?”
“No.”
There it was.
Margaret gripped the inside doorknob.
“Then why did you tell me to get out?”
Ryan’s eyes lifted to hers.
“I was angry.”
“About what?”
“You changed the locks on the study.”
“You tried to open my safe.”
His expression gave him away.
Margaret had not been certain until that moment.
The day before Christmas Eve, she had found scratches near the small safe in Frank’s former study. Ryan had claimed he had been looking for the spare garage opener.
Margaret had changed the study lock that afternoon.
Ryan looked down.
“It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t know what I think anymore.”
“I was looking for Dad’s estate papers.”
“You could have asked.”
“You would’ve said no.”
“That is generally why people ask before opening someone else’s safe.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You’re impossible.”
Margaret almost shut the door.
Then Ryan said, “We owe a lot of money.”
She stopped.
His eyes were still down.
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That is not an answer people give when the number is small.”
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
“Vanessa’s business lost two clients. The condo assessment went up. There were taxes. Then she took out—”
He stopped.
Margaret waited.
“Ryan.”
“She borrowed against things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because she handles the finances.”
Margaret stared at him.
Ryan had always been good with numbers.
As a boy he could calculate baseball averages in his head. As an adult he managed regional operations for a medical-equipment company and could spot a bad quarter before his staff finished a presentation.
The claim that Vanessa handled everything was not impossible.
It was simply convenient.
“How much do you owe?”
He looked at her.
“About three hundred and eighty thousand.”
Margaret’s hand slipped slightly on the doorknob.
“In addition to your mortgage?”
He nodded.
“How?”
“I just told you.”
“No. You named categories. How did you end up owing almost four hundred thousand dollars?”
His face hardened.
“You don’t need to know every detail.”
“You’re standing on my porch because you tried to take my house.”
“I did not try to take your house.”
“You told me to leave it.”
“I was angry.”
“You brought a folder you believed contained paperwork making it yours.”
Silence.
Margaret felt something settle.
She wished it felt like victory.
Instead it felt like discovering rot beneath paint.
“How long have you known about the debt?”
Ryan looked away.
“Ryan.”
“A while.”
“Months?”
“Yes.”
“A year?”
His silence answered.
Margaret closed her eyes.
Last January, she had offered Ryan money to replace the roof on his condo after a leak.
He had been offended.
May you like
She had apologized.
In March, he and Vanessa had taken Margaret to a restaurant for her birthday, ordered a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine, and refused to let her pay.
