Chapter 4 - WHAT MY FATHER SAW
Margaret slapped my father.
Not hard enough to knock him down.
Hard enough to silence the room.
Thomas stared at her.
I stared at both of them.
Then Dad touched his cheek.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Mother’s chest rose and fell.
“You liar.”
“I watched you throw it into the fireplace.”
“Thomas.”
“You said Arthur was confused.”
“Stop talking.”
“You said the new will would tear the family apart.”
“Shut up.”
Dad looked at me.
“I should have stopped her.”
My mother turned on him.
“You agreed with me.”
“No.”
“You stood there.”
“Because I was a coward.”
Those words landed harder than the slap.
Dad sank into the leather chair.
“Arthur died on a Thursday.”
I knew that.
“Friday morning, Margaret opened his study safe.”
“With what authority?”
“She knew the code.”
Mother snapped, “It was my house.”
I looked at her.
“No. It wasn’t.”
She flinched.
Dad continued.
“There were papers inside.”
“The will?”
“Yes.”
“And the letter?”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Why?”
“Margaret did.”
I faced her.
“What did it say?”
She smiled without warmth.
“If Arthur wanted you to have it, perhaps he shouldn’t have died.”
Dad stood.
“Margaret!”
She looked at him.
“What? We’re pretending now?”
I felt anger rising.
Not loud anger.
The dangerous kind.
“What did the letter say?”
Mother stepped toward me.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Arthur thought you were better than everyone.”
“I don’t care.”
“He thought Charles was weak.”
“Mom.”
“He thought Rebecca was dependent.”
“Stop.”
“He thought Thomas had allowed me to control too much.”
Dad looked away.
“And he thought,” Margaret continued, “that you were the only Whitmore with enough spine to take everything away from me.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What exactly did he leave me?”
She didn’t answer.
I pulled out my phone.
“I’m calling Pierce.”
Mother laughed.
“Call whoever you like. The paper is ash.”
I started toward the door.
Then Dad spoke.
“There was a copy.”
I stopped.
Margaret went rigid.
“What?”
Dad looked at her.
“You didn’t know?”
Her face changed.
He almost smiled.
“For once, you didn’t know everything.”
I turned.
“Where?”
Dad rubbed his hands together.
“Arthur was paranoid about original documents.”
“Where is the copy?”
“He kept backups in a safety deposit box.”
Mother’s voice sharpened.
“What bank?”
Dad ignored her.
“Daniel, Arthur once told me that if anything happened to him, you would know the answer to the question.”
“What question?”
Dad looked at me.
“What did he always call you when you were a boy?”
I frowned.
Arthur had a dozen nicknames for us.
Charlie Horse for Charles.
Becca Bird for Rebecca.
And me?
Then I remembered.
“The Anchor.”
Dad nodded.
Mother moved for the door.
I blocked her.
“Where are you going?”
“Move.”
“No.”
Her eyes burned.
“That box belongs to this family.”
I leaned closer.
“No, Mom.”
“For once, you’re going to wait.”
She smiled.
“You still think this is about a will?”
“What else is it about?”
Her expression became almost pitying.
“You should ask your father where the money for Elena’s first house came from.”
I froze.
Elena had owned a small townhouse before we married.
She always said her late aunt left her the down payment.
Mother watched my face.
“Oh.”
Her smile widened.
“She never told you?”
Dad whispered, “Margaret, don’t.”
But she was enjoying herself now.
“You’re so determined to protect your perfect little family.”
May you like
She stepped closer.
“Maybe you should find out what your wife was hiding before you destroy ours.”
