Chapter 8: Across the Table from Claire
She had chosen a coffee shop in the newer part of town — clean lines, high ceilings, the kind of place where difficult conversations could happen quietly.
She was already there when we arrived.
Seated at a corner table, a black coffee in front of her, a leather folder beside it.
She was exactly as I had imagined her from the stories — tall, composed, dressed without a single unnecessary detail.
She looked at Jamie first, then at me.
"You brought him," she said.
"He's part of this," I said.
We sat down.
She opened the folder and slid a stack of documents across the table.
"Account records.
Transfer history.
The original documentation your mother's solicitor filed.
Everything I said I had."
I didn't touch them yet.
"We know about Paul," I said.
Her hand, which had been resting on the folder, went very still.
"Paul Harmon," I said.
"Your brother.
Second director of Clearview Style Ltd.
The withdrawals from the business account to his personal account.
The ones that don't correspond to any business expense."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Nothing in her face moved.
"You've been busy," she said.
"Our mother was busy," Jamie said.
"Thirteen years ago.
Setting up an account for us before she died.
We're just finishing what she started."
Claire looked at him.
Something shifted in her expression — not guilt, not quite.
More like recalibration.
"What do you want?" she said.
"Full restitution," I said.
"The original amount, plus interest calculated from the date of transfer.
From you and from Paul."
"My father's name is on the transfer document," she said.
"Legally—"
"Your father signed a document he didn't understand, on your instruction, transferring money that belonged to two children whose mother had just died." I kept my voice level.
"We both know whose idea that was."
"You can't prove that."
"We don't need to prove it in a courtroom to make your life very difficult," I said.
"A formal complaint to the financial regulator.
A civil suit naming you and Paul as beneficiaries of a fraudulent transfer.
Your brother's name in the filing.
His employer notified.
His professional licenses reviewed." I paused.
"Or you make this right, and it stays between us."
Claire looked down at her coffee.
For the first time since we'd sat down, she didn't look composed.
She looked like a woman doing arithmetic in her head and not liking the answer.
"Paul won't agree to this," she said.
"Then you'll need to convince him," I said.
"Because the alternative is that we file on Monday morning and let the regulator sort out who owes what to whom."
"You'd go after your own father too," she said.
"His name is still on that document."
"Our father is cooperating fully," Jamie said.
"He's already provided everything he has.
That tends to look different in a formal proceeding than someone who needs to be convinced."
Claire picked up her coffee.
Set it down without drinking.
"I need a week," she said.
"You have three days," I said.
She looked at me.
"You're not what I expected."
"No," I said.
"I'm what you left behind."
She closed the leather folder.
She stood up, straightened her jacket, and picked up her bag.
"Three days," she said.
It wasn't agreement and it wasn't refusal.
It was a woman who had just understood that the ground had shifted under her feet.
She walked out.
Jamie and I sat at the corner table.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
"Do you think she'll do it?" Jamie said.
"I think she'll try to find a way out first," I said.
"And I think she won't find one."
My phone buzzed on the table.
A text from Donna: *Paul Harmon is currently under a separate review by his professional licensing board.
Unrelated matter.
He has a lot of reasons to keep this quiet.*
I showed it to Jamie.
He read it.
Set the phone down.
"Mom would have liked Donna," he said.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"She would have."
