Chapter 6: Claire Calls
I held out my hand for the phone.
Jamie hesitated for half a second, then passed it to me.
"This is Jamie's sister," I said.
"Who is this?"
"You know who this is." The voice was smooth and unhurried.
A woman who was used to being the most composed person in any room.
"I think it's time we spoke."
"I agree," I said.
"How did you get this number?"
"Your father isn't the only one who's been looking," Claire said.
"I've known where you lived for about three months.
I was waiting to see if he'd come to you first."
I looked at Dad.
He had gone very still.
"You were watching him," I said.
"I was watching the situation.
There's a difference." A pause.
"I know what he told you.
I know about the letter.
I know about the account."
"Then you know what you owe us."
She laughed.
It was a short, clean sound.
Not cruel, not warm.
Just efficient.
"What I owe you," she said.
"That's an interesting way to put it.
Your father signed every document willingly.
Every transfer, every withdrawal.
His name is on all of it."
"So is yours."
"Mine is on the business accounts.
His is on the original transfer out of your mother's fund.
That's an important distinction, legally speaking."
My jaw tightened.
"Why are you calling?"
"Because I want to make a proposal before this gets complicated." Another pause.
"I have the full account records.
Every transaction, every date, every amount.
Your father doesn't have those — I made sure of that.
If you want to pursue this, you'll need what I have."
"And you'll give it to us in exchange for what?"
"In exchange for keeping my name out of whatever comes next," Claire said.
"I'll give you everything.
The records, the original account documents your mother set up, the transfer history.
All of it.
You'll have everything you need to understand exactly what happened and exactly how much is owed."
"And in exchange, we pretend you had nothing to do with it."
"In exchange, you focus your attention on the person who actually signed the paperwork." Her voice didn't change.
"I was persuasive.
He was willing.
That's the truth of it."
I said nothing for a moment.
Jamie was watching me.
Dad was watching the table.
"I'll need to think about it," I said.
"Of course," Claire said.
"But don't think too long.
I'm not a patient woman, and this offer has a short shelf life."
"One question," I said.
"The boutique.
The money Mom left us — how much of it went into the boutique, and how much went somewhere else?"
A beat of silence.
The first one she'd allowed herself.
"Call me back when you've decided," she said.
And she hung up.
I set the phone down on the table.
"She has the records," Jamie said.
"She says she does."
"Do you believe her?"
I thought about the way she'd answered.
The precision of it.
The way she'd already separated her legal exposure from Dad's before I'd asked a single question.
"Yes," I said.
"I believe she has them.
I don't believe for a second that giving them to us is purely generous."
"She's protecting herself," Jamie said.
"She's been protecting herself since before we knew she existed." I looked at Dad.
"Was she telling the truth?
Is your name the one on the transfer?"
He nodded slowly.
"She had me sign a form.
She said it was a business document.
I didn't read it carefully enough."
"You signed a form transferring money out of an account your dying wife set up for your children," Jamie said, "and you didn't read it carefully enough."
Dad closed his eyes.
"I need air," Jamie said.
He stood up, walked to the back door, and stepped outside.
I watched him through the kitchen window.
He stood on the back step with his hands in his pockets, looking at the yard.
His shoulders were up around his ears.
I turned back to Dad.
"I'm going to need everything you have," I said.
"Every document, every name, every account number you can remember.
Tonight."
"Alright."
"And I'm going to make some calls tomorrow morning.
I know someone who works in financial recovery.
She's helped people in situations like this before."
"Do you think there's anything left to recover?"
I looked at him steadily.
"I think Claire is scared enough to call us, which means there's something worth being scared about.
And I think you're going to help me find out what it is."
He nodded.
Outside, Jamie hadn't moved.
He was still standing on the back step, very still, looking at nothing.
I picked up our mother's photograph from the table and held it.
She was smiling in the hospital bed, tired and thin and completely certain about the baby in her arms.
I turned it over.
*For my children, when they are ready.*
May you like
I set it back down.
We were ready.
