“Did he tell you about the transfers?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you he challenged Grandpa’s trust?”
Mom breathed in sharply.
“Claire, please. Come home. We need to talk before this gets worse.”
“It already got worse.”
“I know.”
The words were so quiet I nearly missed them.
I sat on the bench near the bank’s entrance.
“What do you know?”
“I know your father borrowed against the company. I know he used money from the reserve account. I know he promised to put it back.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since before your grandfather died.”
My throat closed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he said he would hurt himself if I exposed him. Then he said he would ruin your life if I took his side. I thought I could keep the peace until he fixed it.”
“You let me give him money.”
“I didn’t know he would ask you.”
“You knew exactly what he was doing.”
“I knew he was drowning,” she whispered. “I did not understand that he was pulling you under with him.”
I looked through the glass doors at the snow gathering on the pavement.
“Mom, did you open Grandpa’s envelope?”
“No.”
“Did Dad?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
The answer cut more deeply than the rest.
“He read it?”
“He took it from the desk after the funeral. He said it was private family business.”
“Did Madison know?”
