Chapter 6: The Son Who Doubted
David was waiting at my house when Carol and I got back.
He was sitting on the front step with his coat still on, which meant he had been there long enough to get cold and hadn't wanted to use his key.
David had always been careful about boundaries.
It was one of the things I loved about him and one of the things that made him hard to reach.
He stood when he saw us.
"Mom."
"Come inside," I said.
He followed us into the kitchen.
Carol put the kettle on again.
Nobody sat down.
"Richard Holt called me this morning," David said.
"I know."
"He said Thomas wasn't in his right mind when he changed the will.
He said you — he said there were people at the care facility who were concerned about Thomas's judgment in the last year.
That he was making decisions that weren't like him."
"That's not true."
"I know that's what you believe—"
"David." Carol turned from the counter.
"Stop."
"I'm not attacking her.
I'm telling her what he said."
"You're telling her what a man who stood to inherit four hundred thousand dollars said, the morning after the funeral, before she's had a chance to sleep." Carol set two cups down harder than necessary.
"Think about the timing."
David looked at me.
"Is it true?" he said.
"About the money?"
"Yes."
"Mom.
That's a lot of money to leave to someone he hadn't seen in fifty years."
"I know."
"People are going to talk.
People are already talking.
His family thinks you married him for it."
"His family thought that before the wedding," I said.
"That's not new."
"But now there's four hundred thousand dollars attached to it."
"David." I kept my voice level.
"Sit down."
He sat.
I sat across from him.
Carol stayed at the counter.
"I need to tell you something," I said.
"And I need you to listen to all of it before you say anything."
He nodded.
I told him about the letter.
About the photographs.
About my mother going to Thomas behind my back in 1969.
About Vermont, and the spring I came home feeling hollowed out, and the fifty-five years I had spent not knowing why.
I told him about Robert.
David didn't speak for a long time after I finished.
"You had a son," he said finally.
"Yes."
"Before me.
Before Sarah." Sarah was his older sister, the one who lived in Arizona and hadn't been able to come to the funeral.
"You had a son and you didn't know."
"I didn't know."
He looked at the photograph, which Carol had set on the table between us.
"He looks like you," David said.
"I know."
Another silence.
"Mom." His voice had changed.
The careful, guarded quality was gone.
"I'm sorry.
About what I said when I came in.
About the money."
"You were asking reasonable questions."
"I was repeating what a stranger told me on the phone without thinking about why he was calling me instead of talking to you directly." He pushed a hand through his hair.
"He called me, not you.
Why did he call me?"
"Mr.
Foss thinks he's trying to work through the people around me."
David's jaw tightened.
"He's trying to turn us against you."
"That's what it looks like."
"And I almost let him." He looked at the photograph again.
"What are you going to do about Robert?"
"I have his number.
I haven't called yet."
"Are you going to?"
"Yes."
David reached across the table and covered my hand with his.
He had his father's hands.
Large.
Warm.
Always a little rough.
"Do you want me there when you do?"
Something in my chest loosened.
"I think I need to do it alone," I said.
"But I'd like you close."
He nodded.
His phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the screen and turned it face-down without answering.
"Richard Holt?" Carol asked.
"Second time today."
"Don't answer it," I said.
"I wasn't going to." He looked at me.
"Mom.
Whatever he tries — we're not going to let him take what Thomas left you."
I believed him.
But later that night, after David had gone home and Carol had gone to bed, my own phone lit up on the kitchen table.
An unknown number.
A text message.
*Mrs.
Carter.
I think we should talk before this goes any further.
There are things about Thomas you don't know.
Things that will change how you feel about all of this.
— R.
Holt*
May you like
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I set the phone face-down and went to find Robert's number.
