Chapter 5: The Folder
I put the phone face-down on the table.
Marcus looked at it.
"Don't answer yet."
"I wasn't going to."
He got up and poured two glasses of water.
Set one in front of me.
Stood at the counter with his.
"I want to talk to Patrice," he said.
"Not Derek.
Patrice."
"Does she know Derek met with you?"
"He said he'd tell her.
He said she might not want to talk about it."
"She kept the invoices, Marcus.
For three years she kept them.
That's not someone who wants to forget."
He nodded slowly.
"I'll call her tonight."
Ellie was in the living room.
I could hear the television — something with songs.
She'd asked twice since we got home when she could go back to the lake house.
Both times I'd said maybe soon, and both times she'd accepted it and gone back to whatever she was doing.
Six years old.
She didn't know what she'd been part of.
Marcus called Patrice at eight, after Ellie was in bed.
He put it on speaker at the kitchen table, the two of us sitting across from each other.
It rang four times.
"Hey." Patrice's voice was careful.
Not cold.
Careful.
"Hey.
Derek told you?"
"He told me." A pause.
"She did it to you too."
"Yeah."
Another pause.
Longer.
"How much?" Patrice asked.
"Two hundred and nine.
For Ellie's weekend."
Patrice made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh.
"That's the lake house rate.
She charges more for the lake house.
Something about the fuel for the boat."
"Patrice."
"I know."
"How much did she take from you?"
The line was quiet long enough that I thought she might not answer.
"Over three years?
A little under four thousand dollars."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"I kept paying because I needed her," Patrice said.
"Derek was traveling.
I had two kids under four.
She was right there and she was good with them and every time I thought about stopping I thought — what do I do instead?
And she knew that.
She knew exactly what position I was in."
"She did the same thing to Roberta."
"I know.
Roberta told me.
Years later." Her voice tightened slightly.
"I didn't believe it at first.
I thought maybe there'd been a misunderstanding.
Then the first envelope arrived and I understood."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would have confronted her and she would have cried and you would have felt terrible and nothing would have changed." A pause.
"And because I was ashamed.
I kept paying, Marcus.
For three years I kept paying."
"That's not something to be ashamed of."
"I know that now."
I leaned forward.
"Patrice.
The folder.
Derek said you kept the invoices."
A beat.
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Every one.
Dates, amounts, the little logo and everything."
I looked at Marcus.
"Can I ask why you kept them?" I said.
Patrice was quiet for a moment.
When she spoke, her voice was different.
Steadier.
"Because I think I always knew that one day she'd do it to someone else.
And I wanted there to be a record." She paused.
"I just didn't know who she'd do it to next."
"It was Ellie," Marcus said.
"She did it to a six-year-old."
The line was silent.
"Send me a photo of your invoice," Patrice said finally.
"And give me a few days."
"For what?"
"I want to talk to Roberta."
Marcus looked at me across the table.
"Patrice," he said.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," she said slowly, "that Mom has been doing this for thirty years and everyone has just quietly paid and gone away.
Roberta went away.
I went away." Her voice was calm.
May you like
Completely calm.
"I don't think we should go away this time."
