Chương 8
“Yes.”
“Why not tell me what you knew?”
“I wasn’t sure what I knew. I also didn’t want my boss thinking I accused a client of fraud.”
“That concern is getting less useful by the minute.”
“I know.”
“Why are you talking now?”
“Margaret Winslow called my boss this morning.”
Caroline’s head snapped up.
Brett continued. “She asked him to preserve communications related to the property. He called me because I’d been the one dealing with Caroline most of the time. Then I told him about the text.”
Emily looked toward the dining room.
Margaret had been busy before sunrise.
“What emails do you have?”
“Mostly scheduling. A few about signatures.”
“Save everything.”
“I already did.”
“Don’t send them to me yet.”
Caroline looked surprised.
Emily said, “Margaret will tell you where they should go.”
Brett sounded relieved.
“Okay.”
Emily ended the call.
Caroline stared at her.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Emily felt anger rise.
Then she looked at Caroline carefully.
“No.”
“You sound very calm.”
“That isn’t enjoyment.”
“You always get calm when you think you’re right.”
“I am right.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Emily put down the phone.
“You forged our mother’s signature.”
“I admitted that.”
“You lied to Daniel to get his signature.”
“Yes.”
“You were preparing to control or sell a house that isn’t solely yours.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“Then this is not one of our childhood arguments where there are two versions.”
“You think there aren’t two versions?”
“There can be two versions of why you did it. There cannot be two versions of whether you did it.”
Caroline looked at her for a long time.
Then she sat down.
“You should call Margaret.”
“I will.”
“You should probably call a lawyer for yourself too.”
“I will.”
Caroline nodded.
The surrender in that movement frightened Emily more than the fighting had.
“Are you going to the police?”
“I don’t know.”
Caroline looked at the coffee mug between her hands.
“Mom will never forgive me.”
Emily almost said, You should have thought of that.
Instead she said, “I don’t know.”
Caroline looked up.
Emily added, “I don’t know what she’ll do.”
They spent the rest of that morning in different rooms.
Emily called Margaret, who told her not to forward, alter, annotate, or casually circulate anything that might become evidence. She arranged for separate counsel to speak with Elaine and recommended Emily consult someone independent about her own ownership interests.
She also said something Emily did not expect.
“Do not let the funeral become an evidence conference.”
Emily sat on the edge of her childhood guest bed.
“Caroline asked me not to tell Mom until after.”
“I am not advising concealment.”
“I know.”
“But Elaine already knows there is a disputed deed.”
“She doesn’t know Caroline admitted signing her name.”
“No.”
“What would you do?”
Margaret was silent.
“I would not confuse what I would do with what you should do.”
“That is an attorney answer.”
“Yes.”
Emily stared at the snow outside.
“I don’t want Dad’s funeral to become about this.”
“Then don’t make it about this.”
“How?”
“By remembering your father is still dead regardless of what Caroline did.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Margaret continued more gently.
“Fraud creates urgency. Grief creates a different kind. They do not always need to be satisfied on the same afternoon.”
Emily said, “That might be the first useful thing anyone has said to me.”
“I charge a great deal for occasionally being useful.”
Emily laughed despite herself.
Margaret did not.
Then, after a moment, Emily realized Margaret had been joking.
The funeral took place on Thursday beneath a sky so clear it made the snow painful to look at.
Emily stood between Daniel and her mother in the small mountain church Robert had attended mostly on Christmas Eve.
Caroline sat on Elaine’s other side.
No one had planned the arrangement.
It simply happened because grief rearranged people according to habit.
Daniel wore the navy tie Robert once told him made him look like an ambitious waiter. Emily remembered that halfway through the service and nearly laughed.
Daniel noticed.
His eyebrows lifted.
She shook her head.
Later, outside, he asked quietly, “What was that?”
“Your tie.”
He looked down.
“Oh.”
She told him what her father had said.
Daniel laughed once, then covered his mouth.
For a moment they stood beside each other exactly as they had stood through eight years of marriage, sharing some minor absurdity nobody else would understand.
Then Emily remembered the loan.
The forged deed.
His signature.
The moment closed.
“I booked another room,” Daniel said.
“You didn’t have to tell me.”
“I know.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Until you want me to leave.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I don’t have one.”
Emily watched her mother accept condolences from a retired teacher.
Daniel shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“I talked to an accountant.”
She turned.
“Why?”
“To figure out exactly what I owe and how bad the business situation is.”
“Without me?”
“I thought maybe I should stop making my problems your emergency.”
Emily looked at him.
That was almost a good answer.
Almost.
“Send me everything.”
“I will.”
“Statements. Tax notices. The loan with Caroline. All of it.”
“Yes.”
“If you hide one thing—”
“I know.”
She stopped him.
“Don’t say you know.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
She studied his face.
The mark from the slap had faded.
“I keep thinking about hitting you.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“So do I.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
“I’m still sorry.”
He looked at the church steps.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No.”
“You should be angrier.”
He glanced at her.
“I’m pretty angry.”
She blinked.
Daniel gave the smallest shrug.
“You didn’t exactly leave room for my feelings.”
The words stung because they were true.
Emily looked away.
“I deserved that.”
“Probably.”
They stood in silence.
Then Daniel said, “I also deserved a lot of what you said. Just not the slap.”
May you like
Emily nodded.
“That seems fair.”
