Chapter 4: What Jennifer Was Afraid Of
I didn't move.
Mom's hand was still on mine.
Dad had gone very still in his chair.
Neither of them had heard it — or if they had, neither of them showed it.
But I had heard it clearly.
*How much does she know?*
Not: *Can you believe it?* Not: *Why didn't you tell me?* Not even: *I'm so embarrassed.*
*How much does she know.*
That was not the sentence of someone who had just been surprised at a dinner table.
That was the sentence of someone calculating.
I reached for my water glass and took a slow sip.
"I'm going to check on them," Mom said, starting to rise.
"Give them a minute," Dad said.
She settled back.
Through the gap in the kitchen door, the voices had dropped too low to follow.
I caught the rhythm of it — Jennifer's clipped and fast, Marcus responding in shorter bursts, a back-and-forth that had the shape of an argument they had rehearsed before.
My phone was still lit on the table.
Richard had called twice more.
I turned it face-down.
"Alexandra." Dad's voice was careful.
"How much do you actually know?"
I looked at him.
"About what specifically?"
He held my gaze.
"Marcus came to me eight months ago.
He said he was having some cash flow issues with the properties.
He asked if I could help him bridge a gap."
"How large a gap?"
"He said forty thousand."
Mom turned to look at her husband.
"I gave it to him," Dad said.
"He said he'd pay it back before the end of the year."
"Has he?"
Dad's answer was in the silence.
"Robert." Mom's voice had gone flat.
"You didn't tell me."
"He asked me not to."
"He asked you—" She stopped.
Set her hands flat on the table.
"How much else haven't you told me?"
"That's the only time."
"Is it?"
The kitchen had gone quiet.
I didn't know if that was better or worse.
Then the door opened and Marcus came back to the table.
He sat down.
His jaw was set.
Jennifer did not follow him.
"She's not feeling well," he said.
"She's going to lie down."
Nobody challenged it.
Marcus looked at Dad.
Something passed between them — a flicker of recognition, a shared awareness of a line that had just been crossed.
"Dad told me about the forty thousand," I said.
Marcus's eyes moved to me slowly.
"He told you that."
"Just now."
"That's a private matter."
"I'm sure it is."
"It has nothing to do with any of this."
"Probably not," I said.
"Although I do find it interesting that Jennifer's first question when she pulled you into the kitchen was about what I know.
Not about the deal.
Not about the company.
About what I know."
Marcus said nothing.
"What is it she's worried I know, Marcus?"
"You're reading into things."
"I'm very good at reading things.
It's actually part of my job."
He picked up his fork and set it back down.
"You've made your point tonight.
You've humiliated us.
You've shown us all how wrong we were.
Congratulations." His voice was controlled but the edges were fraying.
"Is that enough?
Or do you need more?"
"I don't need anything from you," I said.
"I haven't for a long time."
Mom stood up quietly and began clearing plates.
She moved slowly, deliberately, the way she moved when she needed something to do with her hands.
Dad refilled his wineglass and didn't offer the bottle to anyone else.
Marcus sat with his hands flat on the table, looking at the space where his plate had been.
"The forty thousand," he said finally.
"It wasn't for the properties."
Dad looked up.
"There was a deal.
A development opportunity.
I moved faster than I should have and the financing fell through." He paused.
"Jennifer doesn't know the full amount."
"What is the full amount?" Dad asked.
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"The forty was just the first part."
The grandfather clock ticked.
Mom's hands went still on the stack of plates she was holding.
"How much, Marcus?" Dad said.
Before Marcus could answer, Jennifer appeared in the kitchen doorway.
She had her coat over her arm and her bag on her shoulder.
She looked directly at me.
May you like
"I'd like to speak with you," she said.
"Alone."
