Chapter 3: What Emily Said
Emily read the letter twice.
Her lips moved slightly on the second pass, the way they always had when she was working through something difficult — a habit I remembered from when she was nine years old doing long division at the kitchen table.
She lowered the page.
She didn't look at Jason.
She looked at me.
"Dad.
How long have you known about this?"
"I found it last night."
Jason stepped forward and reached for the letter.
"Give me that."
Emily pulled it back.
A small movement.
Barely an inch.
But she pulled it back.
Something shifted in his face.
"Emily."
"I'm reading it."
His jaw tightened.
"I said give it to me."
"And I said I'm reading it." She turned to face him fully.
"It says my father owns half this house.
Is that true?"
"That's not — it's complicated.
The transfer was supposed to happen years ago.
There was paperwork—"
"Did it happen or not?"
Silence.
"Jason." Her voice was steady in a way I hadn't heard in years.
"Did the transfer happen or not?"
He looked at the floor.
"Not technically."
Emily set the letter down on the hall table.
She pressed it flat with her palm, smoothing a crease that wasn't there.
Then she walked past both of us into the kitchen.
I followed her.
She stood at the sink with her back to me, both hands gripping the counter edge.
Her shoulders were up near her ears.
"Emily."
"Give me a minute, Dad."
I waited.
Jason appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"This doesn't change anything.
It's a clerical issue.
Holt is stirring up trouble for a fee, that's all.
I'll have my own lawyer look at it by Monday and this whole thing goes away."
Emily turned around.
"You put a padlock on my father's refrigerator."
"Our refrigerator."
"In his house."
"It's not his house, that's the whole—"
"It's half his house." Her voice cracked on the last word.
Not from weakness.
From something that had been held in too long.
"You stood in front of me and you humiliated my father in his own home, and you didn't even know what you were doing."
Jason's expression changed.
The confidence drained out of it, replaced by something more careful.
Calculating.
"Let's not make this bigger than it is," he said.
"Walter, I may have been a little harsh yesterday.
I'll admit that.
But we can sit down like adults and work out a fair arrangement going forward.
A contribution to household expenses.
Something reasonable."
I looked at him.
"You put a padlock on the refrigerator," I said.
"And told me only people who pay get to eat."
"I was frustrated.
I overreacted."
"You did."
"So let's move past it."
I pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.
Not because I was tired.
Because I wanted him to understand that I was not going anywhere.
"Gerald Holt will be in touch with your lawyer," I said.
"I'd suggest you find a good one."
Jason stared at me for a long moment.
Then he took his car keys off the counter and walked out the front door without another word.
The door didn't slam.
That almost made it worse.
Emily sat down across from me.
She put her face in her hands.
"Dad, I'm so sorry."
"You don't need to apologize for him."
"I'm not apologizing for him." She looked up.
Her eyes were red.
"I'm apologizing for me.
For standing there yesterday and saying nothing.
For all the times I said nothing."
I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine.
We sat like that for a while.
The kitchen was quiet.
Through the window I could see Jason's car still in the driveway, engine running, going nowhere.
Then Emily said something that made me go very still.
May you like
"Dad, there's something about this house you don't know.
Something Jason told me two years ago that I've been trying to forget."
