Chapter 9: The Accounting
Dad came to Miriam's office the following Tuesday.
He came without Gerald Fitch.
He came alone, which surprised me, and he sat down across from me with his hands flat on the table and didn't look at his attorney's empty chair.
He looked older than he had at the breakfast table two weeks ago.
The confidence that had always made him seem larger than the room he was standing in had gone somewhere.
"I want to tell you myself," he said.
"Not through attorneys."
I waited.
"The transfers to Carver Holdings were not investments in any real sense.
Douglas and I had an arrangement where I moved money from your account and received a personal return.
I told Douglas the account was mine to manage.
That was a lie." He paused.
"I told your mother the money was being managed for the family's benefit.
That was also a lie."
"How much did you take personally?" I asked.
"Over the four years, my personal returns from Douglas totaled approximately four hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I had already known the number from the records.
Hearing him say it out loud was different.
"What did you spend it on?"
He looked at the table.
"Some of it went back into the household.
Some of it went into a personal account your mother didn't know about.
I had debts from before we were married that I had never told her about.
I was using the returns to service them."
"Old debts."
"From a business that failed before Lena was born.
I had personally guaranteed a loan.
The creditor had been patient for years, but they started pressing again about five years ago." He looked up.
"I'm not telling you this to excuse it.
I'm telling you because you asked."
"Was Grandfather aware of the debts?"
Something moved across his face.
"He knew about the business failure.
He didn't know about the personal guarantee.
I didn't tell him." He was quiet for a moment.
"He would have helped me.
If I had told him, he would have helped me.
Instead I—" He stopped.
"Instead you waited until he was gone and used my inheritance."
He didn't answer that.
He didn't need to.
"What are you prepared to do?" I asked.
"Gerald has prepared a full accounting.
Every transfer, every return, every dollar.
It's accurate.
I've signed a statement confirming it." He reached into the folder he had brought and placed a document on the table between us.
"I'm prepared to return the full eight hundred and eighty thousand from the custodianship transfers.
The personal returns I received — the four hundred and twenty thousand — I don't have that in liquid form.
But I'm prepared to sign a structured repayment agreement and to secure it against the house."
"Our house."
"Yes."
I looked at the document.
Then I looked at him.
"Mom doesn't know about the personal account," I said.
"No."
"She's going to find out."
"I know." He pressed his lips together.
"I'll tell her.
Before anything is filed publicly, I'll tell her myself."
"That's not a condition I'm setting," I said.
"I'm just telling you that she deserves to know from you and not from a court filing."
He nodded once.
"There's one more thing," I said.
"Lena."
"What about her?"
"She didn't know about Douglas.
She didn't know about the transfers.
She thought you had the authority to buy her that house.
I want that stated clearly in whatever agreement we reach.
I don't want her name attached to any of this as though she was part of it."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Something shifted in his expression — not gratitude exactly, but something that recognized what I had just done.
"I'll have Gerald include that language," he said.
I picked up the accounting document and handed it to Miriam without reading it further.
She would read it carefully.
That was her job.
"We'll review this and respond by end of week," I said.
Dad stood up.
He picked up his folder.
He stood at the table for a moment as though he had something else to say, and then he didn't say it.
He walked to the door.
"Dad."
He stopped.
"Grandfather trusted you," I said.
"That's what made it possible.
He trusted you and you used it."
He stood with his back to me for a moment.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
"I know," he said.
Then he walked out.
Miriam set down her pen and looked at me.
"How are you?" she asked.
I thought about it honestly.
May you like
"I don't know yet," I said.
"Ask me again in a week."
