My wife bought our younger daughter a brand new Mustang for her birthday, but when my older daughter checked her college fund, all $92,000 was completely gone.

Brooke was sitting on the front step.

She had her arms wrapped around her knees and she was staring at the Mustang in the driveway the way you stare at something you're trying to decide whether to be angry at.

I sat down beside her.

Neither of us said anything for a moment.

"Did you know?" I asked.

Not accusatory.

Just a question.

"No," she said.

"I didn't know where the money came from.

She just said she wanted to do something special for my birthday." She paused.

"I thought it was too much.

I told her it was too much."

"What did she say?"

"She said I deserved it.

That she'd been saving." Brooke pulled her jacket tighter.

"I should have pushed harder."

"That's not on you."

"Maya's going to hate me."

"Maya doesn't hate you."

"She should." Brooke looked at the car again.

"I'm giving it back.

I don't care what it costs to return it.

I don't want it."

"We'll figure that out."

"Dad." She turned to look at me.

"Who is Daniel Marsh?

Like, actually who is he?"

"I don't know yet," I said.

"But I'm going to find out."

"Mom really gave him all that money?"

"Over fourteen months, yes."

Brooke was quiet for a long moment.

"She seemed happy," she said.

"The last few months.

I thought things were just good.

I thought she and you were—" She stopped.

"I didn't see it."

"Neither did I."

A car passed slowly on the street.

Its headlights swept across the Mustang and kept going.

"She said you'd been struggling," Brooke said.

"Financially.

Is that true?"

"No," I said.

"We're not rich, but we're not struggling.

Whatever she told him — or whatever he told her — it wasn't based on our real situation."

Brooke absorbed that.

"So he targeted her."

"That's what I think."

"Then why is she protecting him?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

Not yet.

My phone rang.

I pulled it out expecting Maya, or possibly a number I didn't recognize.

It was our family attorney.

Paul Greer.

Calling at nine-forty in the evening.

I answered.

"Tom," Paul said.

"I'm sorry to call so late.

I got a message about an hour ago from a man named Daniel Marsh.

He says he has a signed agreement with Claire and that if you attempt to contact him or pursue any legal action, he'll file a civil claim against your household for breach of contract." A pause.

"Tom, did you know Claire had entered into any agreements?"

I looked at Brooke sitting beside me on the step.

"I just found out tonight," I said.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough that I need you in the morning."

"I'll clear my nine o'clock," Paul said.

"Bring everything you have."

He hung up.

Brooke was watching my face.

"What was that?"

"He's already called our lawyer," I said.

She stared at me.