Chapter 7: What She Owed and What She Chose
Katherine looked at the invoice like it was something she'd forgotten she'd dropped.
"Five hundred and fifty-two dollars," I said.
"That's what Amelia earned.
That's what you owe her."
"I don't have it right now," Katherine said.
"Not all of it."
"How much do you have?"
She hesitated.
"Maybe two hundred."
"Then you pay two hundred today and the rest within thirty days.
In writing.
Signed."
Marcus was already pulling a notepad from the kitchen counter.
He wrote the terms in plain language, slid it across to Katherine, and handed her a pen.
She looked at it.
Then at Ruth.
Then at Clark.
Clark said nothing.
He just waited.
Katherine picked up the pen and signed.
Marcus tore the page out, handed me the original, and kept a copy.
"I'll witness it," he said, and signed beneath her name.
"The labor board complaint," I said.
"I filed it on Wednesday.
I'll withdraw it once the full amount is paid."
Katherine looked up sharply.
"You already filed?"
"I told you in the invoice.
Seven days.
You didn't respond."
Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
But she didn't argue.
She reached into her bag, counted out bills, and placed them on the table.
One hundred and eighty dollars — everything she had in cash.
She wrote a check for twenty more.
Two hundred dollars.
On the table.
In front of everyone.
It was the first money Amelia had seen for eight Saturdays of work.
"The rest of it," Marcus said, turning to face the room, "we're going to handle separately.
Each of us, with Katherine, individually.
That's a different conversation." He looked at his cousin steadily.
"But it is a conversation that is going to happen.
All of it.
No more silence."
Katherine nodded.
She looked like someone who had been carrying a very heavy bag for a very long time and had finally, against her will, been made to set it down.
I didn't feel triumphant.
I want to be honest about that.
I felt tired and relieved and a little sad and very, very ready to go home.
Clark reached under the table and found my hand.
We stayed another hour.
Ruth made coffee in Marcus's kitchen.
The conversation shifted — not to Katherine, but around her, the way conversations do when the hard part has been said and people need to find their way back to being a family.
Deb asked about Clark's treatment schedule.
Patricia asked about Amelia's school.
Marcus showed Clark a cabinet he was building in the garage, and I heard Clark laugh — a real laugh, not the careful one he'd been using for months.
Katherine sat mostly quiet.
She drank her coffee.
She didn't leave early.
Before we left, she stopped me in the hallway by the front door.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For calling Amelia.
That was wrong.
I knew it was wrong when I did it."
I looked at her.
"Then why did you?"
She thought about it.
"Because I was scared.
And when I'm scared I go after the softest target." She paused.
"That's not an excuse.
I know it isn't."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
She nodded.
She didn't ask for forgiveness.
Maybe she understood it wasn't mine to give — that the apology that mattered most needed to go to a fifteen-year-old girl who had spent eight Saturdays caring for two small children and come home from school one day to find herself used as a messenger in an adult fight.
"She'll need to hear it from you directly," I said.
"Not through me."
Katherine looked at the floor.
"I know."
I left it there.
We walked out into the late afternoon, Clark's hand in mine, the air cool and smelling faintly of someone's fireplace down the street.
In the car, Clark leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
"You all right?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said.
"Just tired." A pause.
"Good tired."
I started the car.
"Diane," he said, without opening his eyes.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the loan."
"I know," I said.
"I won't do that again."
"I know that too."
I pulled out of Marcus's driveway and pointed us home.
The remaining $352 was still outstanding.
The labor board case was still open.
May you like
There was still a signed agreement on a notepad page in my bag.
But for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe all the way down.
