Chương 6
Emily closed her eyes.
There it was.
Her father’s greatest talent and worst habit.
He protected people from consequences until consequences became emergencies.
“Did Caroline know he was going to replace her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think she did.”
“I think we need evidence.”
Margaret’s phone rang.
She checked it.
“I need to take this.”
Emily sat alone after she left.
On her father’s desk was a yellow sticky note with three grocery items written in his blocky handwriting.
Coffee.
Lemons.
Batteries.
Emily stared at it longer than she had stared at the deed.
Her father had believed, three days ago, that he would need batteries.
That undid her.
She bent forward and cried with both hands over her face, quietly enough that nobody came in.
The next morning, the driveway had disappeared under four inches of new snow.
Caroline was already awake when Emily entered the kitchen.
She stood at the stove making coffee.
Her hair was tied back badly, and without makeup she looked older than thirty-seven.
“Margaret left at six,” Caroline said.
Emily opened a cabinet.
“I heard.”
“She took copies.”
“Good.”
Caroline poured coffee into two mugs.
She pushed one toward Emily.
Emily did not take it.
“It isn’t poisoned.”
“I didn’t think it was.”
“You’re acting like it.”
Emily eventually took the mug.
It was too strong.
Exactly how Caroline had always made it.
They stood at opposite sides of the kitchen island.
Outside, snow slid from a pine branch and collapsed in a soft cloud.
Caroline said, “I didn’t send that message.”
Emily looked at her.
“I know that’s what you think.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“That’s new.”
Emily almost answered.
Instead she drank her coffee.
Caroline rubbed a thumb along a chip in her mug.
“Daniel called me in January.”
“About the money.”
“Yes.”
“Why you?”
“He knew I had access to Dad’s investment account.”
Emily set down her cup.
“You loaned him my parents’ money?”
“No. I loaned him mine.”
“Twenty-eight thousand?”
“I had savings.”
“Had?”
Caroline’s expression hardened.
“Yes, Emily. Some people save money.”
“Don’t.”
“You started it.”
“No, you started it seven months ago.”
Caroline looked away.
Emily waited.
“Why did he call you?”
“He didn’t want you to know.”
“Obviously.”
“He said you were still angry about the renovation loan.”
Emily remembered that argument. Daniel’s contracting business had nearly collapsed during the pandemic. They had used part of their home equity to keep it operating. Emily had spent two years telling herself she was not resentful and two years proving otherwise every time money came up.
“That wasn’t his decision to make.”
“No.”
Emily looked at her sister.
“You agree?”
“I don’t particularly like Daniel.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I think he was ashamed.”
“That doesn’t excuse lying.”
“No.”
There was something infuriating about Caroline becoming reasonable.
Emily folded her arms.
“What did you ask him to sign?”
Caroline’s face closed.
“There it is.”
“Yes. There it is.”
“It was supposed to be an acknowledgment.”
“For what?”
“That he knew about the transfer.”
“So you knew it was a transfer.”
“Yes.”
“Yesterday you said Dad wanted the house consolidated. Into what?”
“Into me.”
Emily laughed.
She could not help it.
Caroline’s face reddened.
“You think that’s funny?”
“I think you’re insane.”
“Dad wanted one person controlling it.”
“Then why didn’t he sign?”
“He was going to.”
“But he didn’t.”
“He ran out of time.”
“You don’t get to complete dead people’s intentions for them.”
Caroline looked at her for a long time.
“You do when you spent five years listening to them say the same thing.”
“Then show me.”
“What?”
“Show me an email. A text. A note. Anything where Dad says he wanted to give you my share.”
“He didn’t write emails about family.”
“He wrote three paragraphs about changing the driveway salt.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
Caroline’s jaw tightened.
Emily continued.
“And why did Mom’s signature have to be forged?”
Caroline gripped the counter.
“It wasn’t supposed to be forged.”
“What does that mean?”
“I gave her the paper.”
Emily stared.
“When?”
“Last Thursday.”
“Did she sign it?”
Caroline said nothing.
“Did she sign it?”
“No.”
“And then her signature appeared.”
Caroline looked at the floor.
Emily felt the answer before Caroline spoke.
“I signed it.”
The kitchen seemed to contract.
There was no dramatic movement.
No gasp.
Emily simply stood there.
Caroline’s voice became quieter.
“She had already agreed.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“She told me last night she didn’t.”
“She didn’t understand what you were asking.”
“Don’t do that.”
“You haven’t been in these conversations.”
“Mom is not incompetent.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You just said she didn’t understand her own answer.”
“She knew Dad wanted me to manage the house.”
“Managing is not owning.”
“I know.”
“Apparently you don’t.”
Caroline put both palms on the counter.
“I was trying to stop it from being sold out from under us.”
“By preparing a listing agreement?”
Caroline froze.
Emily pointed toward the dining room.
“I saw the folder.”
“That was to establish value.”
“It had a realtor’s name on it.”
“I needed options.”
“For what?”
Caroline’s shoulders sagged.
“For Mom.”
Emily waited.
Caroline looked exhausted.
“If she needs assisted living, actual assisted living, not somebody visiting twice a week, do you know what that costs?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me.”
Caroline named a monthly figure.
Emily blinked.
“Dad’s supplemental coverage won’t pay for most of it. Their long-term care policy lapsed six years ago. He told Mom he canceled it because the premiums were ridiculous.”
Emily sat on a stool.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Caroline looked at her with open resentment.
“Because every time I tried, Dad told me not to worry you.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You imply it every time you breathe.”
“Maybe because you always got protected from the ugly stuff.”
Emily looked at her.
May you like
Caroline’s eyes had filled, but she refused to blink.
“When Dad called you, he talked about books and skiing and whether you were sleeping enough. When he called me, he wanted to know if I could drive him to the bank.”
