Chapter 9: Thursday at Five O'Clock
Arthur called on Wednesday morning.
I was in Grandma's kitchen when her landline rang — she still had a landline, a cream-colored wall phone that had been there since before I was born.
She answered it herself.
I stayed at the table with my coffee and didn't pretend not to listen.
"Arthur." A pause.
"Yes, I'm fine." Another pause, longer.
"I'm not interested in your explanation of why.
I'm interested in what you intend to do about it." She listened.
"That's not restitution, Arthur.
That's a gesture." She listened again.
Her free hand rested flat on the counter.
"Then I suggest you speak to Gerald Foss again before five o'clock tomorrow.
Marcus has my instructions."
She hung up.
She came back to the table and poured herself more coffee.
"He wants to pay back thirty thousand," she said.
"Over two years."
"Marcus said full restitution."
"Yes." She sat down.
"He knows that."
"Is he going to come through?"
She wrapped both hands around her mug.
"Arthur has always believed that if he offers something, the other person should be grateful and stop asking.
He's done it his whole life." She looked out the window at the backyard, at the garden that had gone a little wild since my grandfather died.
"He's going to be surprised when it doesn't work this time."
Thursday came.
At four forty-seven, Marcus called me.
"Gerald Foss submitted a proposal," he said.
"Full restitution.
Fifty-five thousand, structured over eight months with the first payment due in thirty days.
Plus a signed acknowledgment of the unauthorized withdrawals."
"Is that enough?"
"It's what Eleanor asked for.
I spoke with her this morning." A pause.
"She doesn't want to put her son in prison, Ivan.
She wants her money back and a legal record of what happened.
The acknowledgment gives her that."
"And if he misses a payment?"
"Then the agreement converts to a formal complaint and the bank investigation reopens automatically.
Gerald knows this.
Arthur knows this." Marcus paused again.
"He also knows that Carol at First Federal has already submitted a Suspicious Activity Report to the state.
That's not going away regardless of what Arthur pays back.
It will follow him."
I looked across the kitchen at Grandma, who was deadheading the plant on the windowsill with a small pair of scissors, her back to me, giving me privacy for the call.
"She's okay with this?" I asked.
"She said, and I'm quoting directly: 'I want the money and I want the record.
The rest is between him and God.'"
I almost smiled.
"Alright."
"I'll send the agreement over for her signature this evening.
Ivan—" Marcus paused.
"She handled this extraordinarily well.
Most people in her position don't have the presence of mind to hide the deed before they get in the car."
"She had three months to get ready," I said.
"Yes," Marcus said.
"She did."
I hung up.
Grandma set down her scissors and turned around.
"Well?" she said.
"Full restitution.
Eight months.
First payment in thirty days.
And a signed acknowledgment."
She nodded once.
"Marcus is sending the agreement tonight."
"Good." She picked up her coffee cup and rinsed it in the sink.
"I'll need a pen that works.
The one by the phone is always running out."
I found a pen in my jacket pocket and set it on the counter.
She looked at it.
Then at me.
"You've been here four days," she said.
"I know."
"You have a job.
An apartment."
"I work remotely.
The apartment is fine."
She studied me for a moment.
"You can stay through the weekend if you want.
I won't ask you to, but you can."
"I want to," I said.
She nodded.
She picked up the pen and turned it over in her fingers.
"Your grandfather would have liked you very much," she said.
"He always did, of course.
But I mean as a man.
He would have liked the man you've become."
I didn't have an answer for that.
May you like
I didn't think she needed one.
She put the pen in the cup by the phone — the one that was always running out — and went to start dinner.
