Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY DINNER
Two days later, my mother invited me to dinner.
I almost refused.
Rebecca advised me to go.
“Stay calm,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because people reveal more when they think they're still in control.”
So I went.
My parents sat at the table.
Vanessa was there.
Her children were upstairs.
My father looked exhausted.
My mother looked angry.
Vanessa looked terrified.
Nobody touched the food.
Finally Mom said:
“We want our family back.”
I looked at her.
“You threw my daughter outside.”
“We made a mistake.”
“A mistake is forgetting someone's birthday.”
Vanessa stared at the table.
My father spoke.
“We'll make things right.”
“How?”
“We'll return the money.”
I froze.
“You know about the money?”
Dad nodded.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
“Where is it?”
Silence.
Then Vanessa started crying.
“It's gone.”
I looked at her.
“Gone where?”
She covered her face.
My father whispered:
“Vanessa has debts.”
“What kind?”
He didn't answer.
Vanessa did.
“Gambling.”
The word landed like a gunshot.
My mother closed her eyes.
“How much?”
Vanessa whispered:
“Almost three hundred thousand.”
I stood.
“So you stole from me to pay gambling debts.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“We thought we could replace it.”
“When?”
“When the house was sold.”
“What house?”
My father finally admitted it.
They had planned to sell the family home.
Vanessa would receive the proceeds.
My stolen investment money would be “repaid” from the sale.
But there was another problem.
The house wasn't worth enough.
And Vanessa had taken out another loan.
Using Alice's insurance policy as part of the financial plan.
I stared at my family.
“How long?”
Nobody answered.
“How long have you been planning this?”
My father whispered:
“Almost a year.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why did you throw Alice out?”
She began crying.
“Because she found the papers.”
“What papers?”
“The insurance policy.”
My heart stopped.
Alice had seen something.
Something they desperately wanted hidden.
I stood.
“You made a seven-year-old child a threat to your plan.”
No one spoke.
I walked toward the door.
Then my father said:
“Carolyn.”
I turned.
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
May you like
His face was gray.
“The policy isn't the worst part.”
