Priscilla pulled out a chair and sat down. “You’ve made your point.”
“No,” Sylvia said. “We’ve started asking questions.”
Dean returned from the door. “You said you needed money. Why?”
Priscilla’s jaw worked. She reached into her purse, took out her phone, and set it facedown on the table.
“I had debts.”
“What debts?”
“Business debts. Personal debts.”
“From what?”
She looked up, offended by the question. Then, seeing no one rush to rescue her, she looked away.
Her event business had struggled. She had taken out loans for a storefront she closed after six months. She had kept paying for storage, advertising, and subscriptions she thought would help her find clients. Then came late fees, overdrafts, and more borrowing to cover the first loans. She had told Dean the business was holding steady. When it began to collapse, she had kept telling him the same thing.
The card charges paid bills, bought clothes she returned when she could, and covered dinners with people she hoped might hire her. Some money went to a hotel, where she had stayed for two nights after an argument with Dean. She said she had been too ashamed to come home.
“And the jewelry?” Sylvia asked.
Priscilla’s eyes fell. “I bought it for myself.”
There was no apology in the admission, only exhaustion.
Dean sat down. His gloves were still on. He pulled them off slowly, one finger at a time.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I thought I could fix it before you did.”
“By using her card again?”
“I had no choice.”
“You had choices,” Sylvia said. “You could have told us. You could have stopped spending. You could have asked for help.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to have everyone think you’re a failure.”
Sylvia’s face softened, but she did not look away. “I know what it’s like to hide a hurt because you’re afraid it will inconvenience people. That doesn’t give you the right to hurt someone else.”
Priscilla’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Then you should have cared enough to ask.”
Dean stood. “I need to know whether there’s more. Every account, every card, every loan.”
Priscilla’s eyes went wet. “You’re taking her side.”
“I’m trying to find out what happened.”
“You’ve always done that. You stand there and wait for someone else to decide what’s right.”
The accusation landed. Dean took it without flinching.
“You’re right that I should have asked what was going on sooner,” he said. “I saw you spending more than we could afford. I let myself believe what you told me because I didn’t want a fight. But I didn’t give you permission to use Mom’s card.”
