“So did I.”
She picked up the cardigan and held it out to me with both hands.
“I should have asked you.”
“Yes.”
She nodded once. No excuses. I found I could bear her company.
Upstairs, Mercer spoke quietly on the telephone. Ethan waited at the basement doorway, leaving enough space for us to pass.
“Mom, can we talk before this goes any further?”
I kept packing.
“The lender stopped it. Nobody lost the money.”
I pressed my palm flat against the suitcase lid.
“You brought me here while you were using my name.”
“I wanted you here.”
“For which reason?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Lydia carried the first suitcase upstairs. I heard her set it down beside the door rather than let Khloe take it.
Ethan stepped into the basement.
“The debts got ahead of us. I thought the refinancing would clear them. Then I could start paying you properly.”
“You could have called me.”
“Dad would have found out.”
“He was your father. He had already survived being disappointed.”
Ethan rubbed his face with both hands.
“He told me no.”
My fingers stopped on the zipper.
“When?”
He glanced toward the stairs.
“Ethan.”
“Three weeks before he died.”
William had been tired then, but still sitting at his desk most mornings. I remembered taking him tea and finding his untouched, cold beside the telephone.
“What did you ask him for?”
“An advance against my inheritance.”
