CHAPTER 7
Aunt Linda came inside.
I didn't want her near the girls yet.
So we sat in the garage with the door cracked open.
It felt appropriate.
Some conversations didn't belong in a comfortable room.
"Who else?" I asked.
Linda twisted her wedding ring.
"Our father."
"My grandfather?"
She nodded.
"He started forgetting things before anyone admitted he was sick. Diane handled his bills."
I remembered Grandpa Robert.
He died when I was twenty-four.
By then, Mom had already explained that most of his savings disappeared because medical care was expensive.
"How much?"
"We never knew."
"Did anyone investigate?"
"No."
"Why?"
Linda gave me a bitter smile.
"Because Diane had this family trained long before you were old enough to notice."
I said nothing.
"She was the competent one," Linda continued. "The one who handled emergencies. The one everyone called."
"I've got this," I whispered.
Linda looked at me.
"Exactly."
A chill moved through me.
Those words had defined my childhood.
Mom didn't ask permission.
She took control.
Then everybody thanked her.
"Did she steal from Grandpa?"
"I don't know. I suspected."
"But you did nothing."
Linda flinched.
I wasn't sorry.
"What else?"
"She borrowed money from Steve and never repaid him. She convinced Rebecca's mother to put her name on a property account after the divorce."
"Why has nobody said anything?"
"Because if you challenge Diane, she destroys you."
"How?"
Linda looked embarrassed.
"She tells your secrets. Calls people. Changes the story until you're the villain."
My phone buzzed on the workbench.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
You really want your daughters growing up without grandparents because you're too proud to apologize?
I showed Linda.
She looked away.
"That's probably one of Mom's friends."
"How many people has she told?"
"Everyone."
I deleted it.
"I don't care."
But I did.
Not about strangers.
About the fact that Mom was constructing a version of events where she was the wounded grandmother and I was the cruel daughter.
Linda watched me.
"There's something else."
"Of course there is."
"Diane kept records."
"What records?"
"About people."
I frowned.
"Like an address book?"
"No. Files."
My skin prickled.
"When Grandpa died, I helped clean her old office. She had folders with everybody's names."
"Why?"
"I asked. She said she liked being organized."
"What was inside?"
"Bills. Copies of checks. Notes."
"Notes about what?"
"Arguments. Things people owed her. Things she'd done for them."
I stared.
That sounded exactly like Mom.
Help as leverage.
Kindness as debt.
"Does she still have them?"
"I don't know."
Linda looked toward the house.
"Claire, I need to apologize to Emily."
"Not yet."
Pain crossed her face.
"Okay."
"She gets to decide when."
Linda nodded.
"You're right."
It was the first time I had ever heard one of my relatives accept a boundary without arguing.
That evening, Daniel arrived with news.
"I spoke to my attorney."
"Why?"
"Custody paperwork."
My stomach tightened automatically.
Our divorce had trained me to fear those words.
"I'm not trying to change custody," he said quickly. "I want Diane removed from every document where she's listed as an emergency guardian."
I relaxed.
"Okay."
"And I want something in writing that neither of us can authorize her again without both parents agreeing."
I looked at him.
"Agreed."
He sat down.
"Claire, there's something I should tell you."
I almost laughed.
Apparently everyone had something they should tell me.
"What?"
"Your mother called me before our divorce was final."
I stared.
"When?"
"A lot."
"What did she say?"
"That you were overwhelmed. That you weren't sleeping. That maybe the girls would be better with me temporarily."
My mouth went dry.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought she was trying to help."
Of course.
Everyone thought Diane was helping.
"Did she ask you to seek full custody?"
"She suggested it."
Anger flashed through me.
"She told me you were unstable too," he added.
I looked at him.
"What did you do?"
"I told her no."
I hadn't expected that.
"Our marriage was a mess," Daniel said. "But you were never a bad mother."
Tears burned my eyes.
"Why didn't you say that then?"
"Because I was angry."
"So was I."
"I know."
For a few seconds, we sat with the ruins of an old marriage and the strange truth that we had both allowed my mother too much space inside it.
"Do you think she wanted custody of the girls?" I asked.
Daniel's face darkened.
"I think she wanted control."
That night, Emily had a nightmare.
I woke to her standing beside my bed.
"Mom?"
I sat up.
"What happened?"
"Grandma came."
My heart jumped before I realized she meant the dream.
I pulled back the blanket.
Emily climbed in beside me.
"She said you changed your mind."
"About what?"
"Sending us back."
I held her.
"I won't."
"But what if everyone gets mad?"
"Everyone can get mad."
"What if Grandma cries?"
"She can cry."
"What if she says she's sorry?"
I hesitated.
"Being sorry doesn't automatically make someone safe."
Emily thought about that.
"Dr. Shaw said that too."
Smart woman.
Emily's voice dropped.
"Do you hate Grandma?"
The question hurt.
"No."
"Then why can't we see her?"
"Because loving someone and trusting them are different things."
She was quiet.
"Do you still love her?"
I looked into the darkness.
Somewhere beneath the anger, betrayal and disgust, I did.
Or maybe I loved who I thought she was.
"Yes."
Emily rested her head against me.
"Me too."
That was the cruel part.
Children can miss people who hurt them.
So can adults.
Two days later, Detective Lee called.
"We executed a search warrant on Diane's financial records."
I sat straighter.
"And?"
"We found transfers from the account opened in Emily's name."
"To Mom?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Eleven thousand eight hundred dollars."
My hand went numb.
"But there's more."
There was always more.
"What?"
"We found a storage unit paid from the same account."
"A storage unit?"
"We obtained a warrant."
I stood.
"What was inside?"
Detective Lee took a breath.
"Documents."
"What kind?"
"Financial records. Copies of identification. Social Security information."
My chest tightened.
"Whose?"
"Several people."
"Emily?"
"Yes."
"Mine?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"And Rosie's."
May you like
I stopped breathing.
Then Detective Lee added, "Claire, your mother wasn't preparing to stop."
