Chapter 5: Thursday
Caleb arrived first.
He was tall, with dark hair going grey at the temples and the careful, measured walk of someone who had learned not to take up too much space.
He stood in the doorway of my hospital room for a moment before Gerald introduced us, and I saw him do what I had probably done when Gerald first told me — run the math quietly, fit the new information into the shape of everything he already knew, and decide whether to trust it.
He sat down in the chair beside the bed.
"Gerald told me not to form any opinions before I got here," he said.
"I've been trying not to.
It hasn't been easy."
"What do you know so far?"
"That my grandfather left a trust.
That my father — our father — blocked an amendment that would have included Nora and me.
That someone has been taking money from that trust for eleven years." He looked at me steadily.
"And that you ended up in a hospital because you started asking questions."
"That's accurate."
"How bad?"
"Three fr@ctured ribs.
Cheekbone.
Concussion."
His jaw tightened.
He looked at the window for a moment.
"I need you to understand something.
I don't know you.
I don't know if I can trust you.
I want to — I think I want to — but I have spent my whole life being told my grandfather's family wanted nothing to do with us.
That takes time to undo."
"I know."
"So I'm here.
I'm listening.
But I'm not committing to anything until I've seen the documents myself and had my own lawyer review them."
"That's exactly what you should do," I said.
"I wouldn't trust me either.
Not yet."
Something in his posture shifted — not much, but enough.
Nora arrived forty minutes later.
She was shorter than I'd imagined, with sharp eyes and a winter coat she hadn't fully taken off before she was already talking.
"You're Savannah." It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Gerald said you were in the hospital.
He didn't say you looked like that." She pulled off her coat and dropped it over the foot of the bed without asking.
"Who did this to you?"
"My father."
"Our father."
"Yes."
She sat on the edge of the bed, which no one else had done, and looked at me with an expression that was not quite sympathy and not quite anger but somewhere between the two that felt more honest than either.
"I've been angry my whole life," she said.
"I didn't always know why.
My mother used to say I came out of the womb ready to fight someone.
I think now maybe I knew something was wrong even before I had words for it."
"Nora—" Caleb started.
"I'm not being dramatic.
I'm being accurate." She looked at Gerald.
"Show me the documents."
Gerald opened the briefcase.
The three of us sat together for the next two hours.
Caleb read everything twice.
Nora read it once, fast, then went back to specific pages with a highlighter she produced from her bag.
I answered questions when they asked them and stayed quiet when they needed to think.
At one point Caleb set down the carbon copy — the page with our grandfather's handwritten note — and didn't say anything for a long moment.
Nora looked at it over his shoulder.
Read the note.
Set her highlighter down.
The room was very quiet.
"He tried," Caleb said finally.
His voice was careful.
Controlled.
"He tried too late," Nora said.
But her voice had changed.
The sharpness was still there, but underneath it something had gone soft.
"He tried," I said.
"Douglas made sure it didn't matter.
That's the difference between your grandfather and my father."
Caleb looked at me.
"Our grandfather."
"Yes," I said.
"Our grandfather."
It was the first time the word felt like it fit.
Then Caleb's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen and his expression changed.
"It's a number I don't recognize.
Minneapolis area code."
He answered it on speaker.
"Is this Caleb Marsh?" The voice was male.
Smooth.
Practiced.
"Who's asking?"
"My name is Richard Hale.
I'm an attorney representing Douglas and Beatrice Croft.
I understand you've recently been in contact with a Gerald Foss regarding certain estate matters.
I'm calling to let you know that Mr.
Foss is not a reliable source of information, and that any documents he may have shared with you are currently under dispute.
I'd strongly advise you not to take any action based on—"
Caleb ended the call.
He set the phone face-down on the blanket.
"They know I'm here," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"How?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I looked at the door.
Then at the window.
"They've been watching," I said.
"Or someone told them."
May you like
Nora picked up her highlighter.
"Then we need to move faster than they expected."
