Chapter 5 - The Other Account
“What other account?”
Trisha didn't answer.
In the background, I heard movement.
A door closing.
Then her voice became quieter.
“You can't tell Dad.”
“Tell Dad what?”
“Please.”
“Stop saying please and answer me.”
She started crying.
“I messed up.”
“That covers a lot of ground today.”
“Claire.”
“What account?”
A long pause.
Then:
“One in Mom's name.”
I sat down at the kitchen table.
Neil was across from me, watching my face.
“What kind of account?”
“A credit card.”
“Another one?”
“No. Checking.”
My stomach dropped.
“You opened a bank account in Mom's name?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
“Trisha.”
“Mom did.”
That wasn't the answer I expected.
“What?”
“She opened it.”
“Why?”
“To help me.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“It's not like that.”
“Then explain.”
The account, according to Trisha, had been opened almost two years earlier.
My mother had created it because Dad had begun questioning how much money she was giving Trisha.
She transferred small amounts into it.
Two hundred.
Five hundred.
Sometimes one thousand.
Then Trisha got a debit card.
Dad knew nothing.
“That's not identity theft,” I said.
“No.”
“So why are you panicking?”
She started crying harder.
“Because I deposited checks.”
“What checks?”
“I was going to pay everything back.”
“What checks?”
Silence.
Then:
“Dad's.”
I closed my eyes.
My father still wrote checks.
Utility bills.
Church donations.
Birthday cards.
He kept two checkbooks in a kitchen drawer.
“You forged Dad's checks?”
“Not exactly.”
I nearly screamed.
“What exactly would you call signing another person's name?”
“Mom signed some.”
I went still.
“Mom forged Dad's signature too?”
“No! She signed with permission before.”
“Did she have permission for these?”
Silence.
I already knew.
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“You know.”
“Maybe fifteen thousand.”
Neil's eyes widened when I held up fifteen fingers.
“Over how long?”
“Two years.”
“So while Dad thought Mom had given you sixty-four thousand dollars, there was another fifteen thousand?”
“It wasn't all for me.”
“What was it for?”
“Bills.”
“Whose?”
“Ours.”
I stood and walked toward the window because I suddenly couldn't sit still.
The yard was dark.
Hannah had gone upstairs.
Before bed, she asked whether her puppy fund was gone forever.
I promised her it wasn't.
I would replace every penny.
But I also told her something important.
“You didn't lose it because you were foolish,” I said. “Someone bigger than you used fear to make you hand it over. That was wrong.”
She asked if Aunt Trisha was a bad person.
I told her people could make terrible choices without being permanently defined by them.
I wasn't sure I believed it anymore.
“Why did you need all this money?” I asked.
Trisha sniffed.
“I told you.”
“No. You told me about car payments. Groceries. School. That's not eighty thousand dollars.”
“I didn't get eighty thousand.”
“You got enough.”
No answer.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“I have to go.”
“Trisha.”
She ended the call.
Thirty seconds later, Dad called.
I knew before answering that Mom had told him something.
“I need you to come over tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Why?”
“Your mother is going to explain everything.”
“Dad—”
“I can't do this on the phone.”
His voice sounded hollow.
“I need one night.”
I agreed.
At 8:00 the next morning, Neil and I drove to my parents' house.
We left Hannah with Neil's sister, Rebecca.
I didn't want her anywhere near what was coming.
Dad sat at the dining-room table.
Mom was across from him.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
There was a legal pad between them.
Three pages covered in numbers.
“Sit,” Dad said.
I did.
Mom couldn't look at me.
Dad slid the pad across.
“I went through everything.”
The total at the bottom was circled.
$103,482.19.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“The amount of money that has gone from our finances to Trisha or toward expenses connected to her in thirty-one months.”
I looked at Mom.
She whispered, “Some of that was for the children.”
“How?”
“School. Clothes. Camps.”
Dad shook his head.
“Less than eleven thousand.”
Mom covered her face.
“Where did the rest go?”
She didn't answer.
Dad said, “That's why I asked you to come.”
Mom wiped her cheeks.
“Trisha has a problem.”
I waited.
“Gambling.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, the story finally made sense.
The constant emergencies.
Money disappearing immediately.
Car payments.
The PTA account.
Borrowing.
Credit cards.
The urgency.
The secret accounts.
“How long?”
Mom stared at her hands.
“Four years.”
“Four?”
“I found out after the divorce.”
“Did Mark know?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why they divorced?”
“Partly.”
I thought about every story Trisha had told us.
Mark was controlling.
Mark monitored money.
Mark wouldn't trust her with accounts.
Mark insisted on separate credit cards.
I had hated him for it.
Maybe he hadn't been controlling.
Maybe he'd been trying to keep their mortgage from disappearing into a betting app.
“What kind of gambling?”
“Online sports. Casinos. Slots. Everything.”
“How much has she lost?”
Mom shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“More than a hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“How much more?”
“I don't know.”
Dad said, “I called Mark.”
My head turned.
“And?”
“He estimates somewhere around two hundred and eighty thousand since they were married.”
I felt sick.
“Where did she get that kind of money?”
“Credit cards. Home-equity loan. Retirement withdrawal. Friends. Us.”
Dad looked at me.
“And possibly you.”
I frowned.
“I've never given her cash except—”
“Your tuition fund.”
“That wasn't accessible.”
“Apparently she thought it was.”
Mom whispered, “She had already gambled against it.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Trisha had borrowed money from people.
Not banks.
Not family.
People she had convinced that a large tuition payment from me was guaranteed.
She claimed the forty thousand dollars was effectively hers.
She promised to repay several debts once I covered school, freeing up other money she could use.
“How much does she owe?”
Mom whispered:
“Thirty-six thousand.”
“To whom?”
“I don't know everyone.”
“Everyone?”
Mom started crying.
“Some are friends.”
“Some?”
Dad took over.
“One is a coworker. One is a neighbor. Seven thousand came from Mark's brother.”
My head spun.
“And the rest?”
Mom shook her head.
“She used online lenders.”
Neil cursed quietly.
Dad continued.
“Some of the rates are predatory.”
“How bad?”
“One loan is 189 percent APR.”
I stared.
“That can't be real.”
“It is.”
Mom reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
“Claire, she needs help.”
I looked at her.
“She has needed help for four years.”
“I know.”
“But you didn't get her help. You gave her money.”
Mom started sobbing.
“I thought if I could fix it before anyone knew—”
“You thought you were protecting her.”
“Yes.”
“No, Mom. You were protecting the addiction.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Mom whispered, “I know that now.”
Then the front door opened.
Trisha walked in.
She looked exhausted.
No makeup.
Hair pulled back.
For once, no performance.
She sat across from me.
“I need the forty thousand back.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand more than I did yesterday.”
“Then you know I'm in trouble.”
“Yes.”
“Some of these people won't wait.”
“That doesn't make my daughter's money yours.”
“I'll get treatment.”
“Good.”
“I'll do therapy.”
“Good.”
“I'll go to meetings.”
“Good.”
“Then put the tuition money back.”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“You said you'd help me.”
“I will help you.”
Hope appeared.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I slid the legal pad toward her.
“I'll pay directly for a licensed addiction counselor.”
Her smile vanished.
“I'll help you find a financial attorney.”
Nothing.
“I'll help make sure Logan and Stella have food, clothes, school supplies and somewhere safe to live.”
Her jaw tightened.
“But I will never give you another dollar.”
She stood.
“You don't get it.”
“I finally do.”
“No, you don't!”
She slammed both palms onto the table.
“I owe people!”
“And giving you money hasn't solved that.”
“I could lose my house.”
“Then you may lose your house.”
Mom gasped.
Trisha stared at me like I'd become a stranger.
“My kids live there.”
“And if necessary, they'll have family to stay with.”
“You'd take my children?”
“I said nothing about taking them.”
“You've always wanted to prove you're better than me.”
“This isn't about me.”
“It is always about you!”
Dad stood.
“Enough.”
Trisha rounded on him.
“You're freezing my cards too?”
“Yes.”
“You can't!”
“They're in my name.”
“You'll ruin me!”
Dad's voice shook.
“No, sweetheart.”
He looked at her with tears in his eyes.
“I think we've spent four years ruining you by making sure nothing ever hurt.”
For a moment, Trisha looked small.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
Every bit of color vanished from her face.
“What?” Mom asked.
Trisha didn't answer.
She grabbed her purse.
“Where are you going?” Dad asked.
“I have to leave.”
“Why?”
She backed toward the door.
“Trisha.”
Then someone knocked.
Three firm knocks.
Dad opened the door.
A man and woman stood outside.
The man held a folder.
The woman wore a county badge.
She looked at Trisha.
“Ms. Parker?”
My sister froze.
“Yes?”
The woman held out an envelope.
“You've been served.”
Trisha stared at it.
“What is this?”
The woman answered calmly.
May you like
“Emergency custody petition.”
And behind her, standing beside a parked car, was Trisha's ex-husband Mark.
