Chương 8
Three employees quit anyway.
One had worked for the brothers for eight years.
Another called Michael a crook before leaving.
Word spread through suppliers.
A commercial client delayed payment on an outstanding invoice after hearing about the investigation.
For the first time in years, Michael began doing small residential repair jobs himself because they paid quickly.
Rachel saw his truck in neighborhoods where Carter Restoration had not worked since the company’s first years.
One evening he arrived to pick up Emma with white caulk dried across his forearm.
Emma looked at it.
“You missed a spot.”
Michael examined his arm.
“Professional finish.”
“You look like you fought toothpaste.”
He laughed.
Rachel did too.
The laughter felt dangerous for half a second.
Then it was simply laughter.
Michael helped Emma load her overnight bag.
Before they left, he handed Rachel an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“My half of the camera replacement.”
“You already paid.”
“Not the new side camera.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at the check.
Michael leaned against his truck.
“I keep thinking about the first call.”
“What call?”
“The night you found the lock.”
Rachel folded the envelope.
Michael stared at the driveway.
“You called me at two in the morning.”
“You said you couldn’t come.”
“I was forty minutes away.”
“You were at Derek’s.”
Michael nodded.
Rachel had forgotten that.
Or maybe she had chosen not to remember.
Michael had been sleeping in the spare room at Derek and Laura’s house then, during the first weeks after the separation.
“He came downstairs while I was talking to you,” Michael said.
Rachel felt the world narrow.
“What?”
“He asked what happened.”
“You told him?”
“Somebody messed with the garage lock. You were scared. Emma saw someone.”
Rachel’s heartbeat accelerated.
“You told him Emma saw someone?”
Michael looked sick.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Around two fifteen.”
Less than an hour after the video timestamp.
“Did he say anything?”
“He said she probably saw a raccoon or somebody cutting through the yard.”
Rachel stared.
Michael continued.
“He told me not to drive over because it would create drama. He said the police were already there, and you were safe.”
“You listened to him.”
“Yes.”
Rachel folded the check in half.
Then again.
Michael watched her hands.
“I should have come.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“You should have believed me.”
“Yes.”
“You should have believed Emma.”
His voice was barely audible.
“Yes.”
Rachel looked at him.
For months after their separation, she had imagined hearing Michael admit fault.
In those fantasies she felt vindicated.
She had never imagined he would look this tired.
Vindication turned out to be a small emotion.
It did not hold much.
“Why did you think I was exaggerating?” she asked.
Michael looked toward the truck where Emma was buckling herself in.
“Because sometimes you do.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
“I’m not trying to be cruel.”
“You’re succeeding anyway.”
“I know.”
He rubbed the caulk stain with his thumb.
“And because if you were exaggerating, then I didn’t have to get involved.”
That surprised her.
Michael looked at her.
“I was angry. I was sleeping on my brother’s pullout couch. Every conversation with you felt like another test I was failing. So when you called, some part of me thought, here we go again.”
Rachel said nothing.
“I wanted one thing to not be my responsibility.”
The admission sat between them.
Ugly.
Small.
Human.
Rachel looked at Emma waiting in the truck.
“You picked a terrible thing.”
“I know.”
Michael opened the driver’s door.
Then stopped.
“Bell called me today.”
Rachel’s attention sharpened.
“Why?”
“They found more company files on the drive.”
“What kind?”
“Emails Derek deleted from the office server.”
Rachel waited.
Michael took a breath.
“He was moving money before the business got bad.”
“How long?”
“Almost two years.”
That changed the shape of Derek’s explanations.
Financial pressure had not created the behavior.
It had enlarged it.
“What did he spend it on?”
“They don’t know all of it.”
“Do you?”
“Some.”
Michael looked embarrassed, though none of the spending was his.
“Personal credit cards. Home renovations. A boat deposit that never turned into a boat.”
Rachel almost smiled at the absurdity.
“Seriously?”
“Apparently he was going to become a boat person.”
“That would have lasted three weekends.”
“Two.”
They both laughed softly.
Then Michael’s expression changed.
“There were also payments to cover older payments.”
Rachel nodded.
“That sounds bad.”
“It is.”
He climbed into the truck.
Emma rolled down her window.
“Mom, Dad says I can have ice cream after dinner.”
Rachel looked at Michael.
He raised both hands.
“I said maybe.”
“You said yes.”
“I said almost yes.”
Emma groaned.
Rachel smiled.
“One scoop.”
Emma pumped a fist.
Michael backed out.
Rachel watched until the truck turned the corner.
Then she went inside and unfolded the check Michael had given her.
She deposited it the next morning.
By September, Emma had stopped checking the driveway before entering the garage.
That was how Rachel measured progress.
Not by sleep.
Sleep remained unpredictable.
Not by the criminal case, which moved according to calendars none of them controlled.
Not by family gatherings, which had mostly stopped.
She measured it by Emma walking ahead of her.
First to the garage door.
Then inside.
Then one Saturday, all the way to the shelf where the gray storage bin had been.
“Can we get rid of this stuff?”
Rachel looked at the bin.
“What stuff?”
“All Dad’s weird wires.”
Rachel pulled one out.
It was an obsolete printer cable.
“This may be extremely valuable.”
Emma stared at her.
“It’s trash.”
“You don’t know. Vintage technology.”
“It’s trash.”
Rachel put it in a donation box.
They spent the afternoon clearing the garage.
Michael came over near three with pizza.
He stood at the open door.
“I leave for six months and you destroy history.”
Rachel held up another cable.
“Identify this.”
Michael squinted.
“No idea.”
“Trash.”
“Correct.”
May you like
Emma sat cross-legged on the floor sorting screws into jars.
For a while nobody mentioned Derek.
