Chapter 2 - February Tenth
Sally did not answer Lily’s question.
Not there.
She took her daughter’s hand.
“Come on.”
Garrett moved in front of them.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Sally, please.”
Her expression turned hard.
For the first time, he saw something familiar.
Not the exhausted woman from the soup line.
The Sally who used to negotiate freight contracts while three managers shouted over her.
The woman who never confused pressure with authority.
“You had four years to ask questions.”
“I didn’t know she existed.”
“I told you I was pregnant.”
“My mother said…”
Sally laughed once.
Empty.
“Of course she did.”
Garrett felt heat rise into his face.
“Was I supposed to believe you after seeing that picture?”
“The picture your mother edited?”
He froze.
“What?”
Sally looked at Lily.
Not in front of her.
She pointed toward a coffee shop across the street.
“Ten minutes.”
Garrett followed.
They sat near the window.
Lily ate half the bread and dipped small pieces into the stew.
Garrett could not stop looking at her.
Sally noticed.
“Stop staring.”
“She looks like…”
“I know.”
His voice dropped.
“Is she mine?”
Sally looked at him for a long time.
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than any accusation.
Garrett sat back.
“No.”
“You asked.”
“I mean…”
He looked at Lily.
“I had a daughter for four years?”
Sally corrected him.
“You fathered a daughter four years ago.”
The distinction hurt.
Then:
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sally’s face changed.
“I did.”
“No.”
“I told you before you threw me out.”
“You said you were pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“I thought…”
“You thought Cindy.”
His mother.
Always Cindy.
Then Sally reached into the pink bag.
She pulled out the yellowed envelope.
The front read:
GARRETT.
Her handwriting.
The seal had been opened.
Garrett stared.
“You opened this?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“You already know.”
Cindy.
Inside:
A pregnancy test report.
Clinic confirmation.
Estimated delivery date.
A handwritten letter.
Garrett read.
Garrett,
I know you are angry, but I need you to read this before you decide anything. I am pregnant. Leland Croft is not my lover. He is an attorney volunteering at Harbor Women’s Resource Center. I went there because your mother has been controlling our joint account and because I discovered money missing.
Garrett stopped.
“What money?”
Sally pointed.
“Keep reading.”
I have not cheated on you. I have not left you. I need us to meet with someone without Cindy present because I think she has been moving money out of our house account.
Garrett looked up.
“My mother told me you emptied it.”
“I know.”
“She showed me the balance.”
“When?”
“The day after you left.”
Sally smiled bitterly.
“And you never looked at the transaction history.”
No.
He had not.
Cindy had controlled his banking for years.
She called it helping.
She paid utilities.
Moved savings.
Handled statements.
Garrett had logged in maybe twice a year.
Then he remembered February eleventh.
Cindy at dinner.
Eyes red.
“Your wife took everything.”
Garrett asked how much.
“All of it.”
$420,000.
Five years of saving.
Most from Sally’s salary and bonuses.
Garrett believed.
“What happened?”
Sally folded her arms.
“The morning after you threw me out, Cindy used your bank credentials and transferred the money to an account in her name.”
Garrett stared.
“No.”
“I have the records.”
“How?”
“Leland helped me subpoena them during the divorce.”
“Why didn’t my lawyer…”
“You didn’t have your own lawyer.”
Garrett remembered.
His mother introduced family attorney.
The same man represented him in the divorce paperwork.
Sally continued.
“When I challenged the transfer, Cindy said it was repayment for five years of free housing.”
“That apartment belonged to her.”
“Yes.”
“She never charged us rent.”
“Until she needed an explanation for taking our savings.”
Garrett’s face went cold.
Then:
“Why didn’t you recover it?”
May you like
Sally looked toward Lily.
“Because three weeks later, I nearly lost her.”
