Chapter 2 - FAIRNESS
I stared at him.
“What did you just say?”
Callum kept both hands flat on the island.
“Nothing was taken.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“Deline said Grandma intended the grandchildren to be treated equally.”
“Renley’s college fund is not Grandma’s estate.”
“I told her that.”
“When?”
He looked away.
There it was again.
After.
Always after.
After Thanksgiving.
After Renley cried.
After documents were signed.
After his sister had already crossed the line.
I opened the college account folder.
“Why did she need access to the statements?”
“She wanted to compare balances.”
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave her access.”
“I added her as an informational contact.”
“You did that without telling me.”
“Yes.”
The word landed quietly.
Callum had always been soft-spoken.
For years, I had thought quietness meant honesty.
Now I understood that a person could deceive you without ever raising his voice.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Poppy’s account had less.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the logic was so perfectly Deline.
If another child had something Poppy did not, the problem was never that Poppy had less.
The problem was that somebody else had more.
“So your sister wanted to know how much money my daughter had because she believed her own daughter deserved some of it.”
“She was upset.”
“She is frequently upset.”
“I know.”
“And your solution was to hand her financial information about a seven-year-old.”
Callum flinched.
“Nothing happened.”
“Something happened.”
I pointed toward the staircase.
“Renley now knows that when your sister wants what belongs to her, her father may help your sister take it.”
“That’s not fair.”
The sentence came out sharper than anything he had said all week.
I stood.
“No, Callum.”
I felt strangely calm.
“What happened to Renley at Thanksgiving was not fair.”
“What you authorized was not fair.”
“What you put my name on was not fair.”
“Do not use that word with me because you are uncomfortable with the consequences.”
His face went pale.
“I never wanted this.”
“Neither did I.”
The doorbell rang.
Neither of us moved at first.
Then it rang again.
I checked the camera on my phone.
Deline stood on our porch.
No coat.
No gloves.
Snow collecting in her dark hair.
She was furious.
Behind her, headlights from a black SUV cut across our driveway.
Callum whispered, “She knows about the credit line.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
His answer was almost inaudible.
May you like
“Because the bank froze it this afternoon.”
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