Chapter 3
Miriam met me at the office two hours later.
I had gone home first, but the sight of my packed suitcase in the hallway made the house feel unbearable. I left it where it stood and drove downtown.
Thomas’s photograph hung outside the conference room. In it, he was laughing at something beyond the camera. He had hated formal portraits.
I touched the frame as I passed.
Miriam was waiting with a folder and a cup of tea I had not asked for.
“I need to know what happened,” I said.
She opened the folder.
Lauren’s assistant, Celia, had sent two travel requests. The first was for that morning’s flight. The second was for Lauren’s parents, her brother, and several guests the following weekend.
Both requests said they had Michael’s approval.
Neither carried mine.
“The first request was marked pending,” Miriam said. “Operations expected someone to call you. When nobody did, our dispatcher contacted Captain Hayes.”
“And the second?”
“Also pending. It hasn’t reached the operator.”
I let out a breath. At least it could be stopped before another crew had to face a family argument on a runway.
“Did Michael tell Celia he could approve these?”
“That’s what I’m trying to establish.”
I read the message attached to the second request. Michael had written that his father had always allowed him to arrange family travel.
That part was true. Thomas had often said yes.
Michael had omitted the asking.
Miriam watched me carefully.
“There are other expenses we should review.”
I looked up.
“Travel?”
“Among other things.”
She showed me a list of charges submitted for family reimbursement over the past year. Some were ordinary: Emma’s school trip, a medical bill for Noah, repairs to a house Thomas and I owned that Michael used for business meetings.
Others were harder to understand.
A private dinner for Lauren’s parents. A week at a resort for two couples I did not know. Renovations to a guest suite in Michael and Lauren’s home.
“I haven’t approved these,” I said.
“Most haven’t been paid. Michael’s company has covered several and requested repayment.”
“Why didn’t I see them?”
“We started asking for receipts three months ago. The replies were slow. I should have brought the pattern to you sooner.”
I shook my head.
“You brought it now.”
I was angry, but I did not want to turn Miriam into another person who felt responsible for Michael’s choices.
“Hold every request that needs my approval,” I said. “Ask Michael to provide the original invoices and explain each expense.”
“I’ll do that.”
My phone lit up with his name.
I let it ring.
A message followed.
You humiliated me in front of my children.
I stared at it until Miriam gently closed the folder.
“Go home, Eleanor.”
“I don’t want him telling them I stranded everyone.”
“Then call the children when things are calmer.”
“Will Lauren let them answer?”
Miriam had no comforting answer.
At home, my suitcase still stood beside the door. I unpacked Noah’s spare candy and put it on the kitchen counter, though he had taken both bags from the aircraft stairs.
Thomas’s old cardigan hung over the back of a chair. I pulled it around my shoulders and sat down.
Michael called again.
This time I answered.
“What?” he said immediately. “Are we going to talk?”
“We are. Start with the second aircraft you requested for Lauren’s family.”
The silence lasted several seconds.
“That has nothing to do with today.”
“It has my name attached to it.”
“I used the family program.”
“You asked the family office to pay for a trip I knew nothing about.”
“Dad would have approved it.”
“Dad isn’t here to ask.”
His breath sharpened.
“You always bring him into it when you want to win.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“I would give anything to ask him what he thought.”
Michael said nothing.
I tried to remember the last time we had spoken about Thomas without one of us using his memory as a shield.
“I want copies of your requests,” I said. “Miriam will send you the list.”
“So I need an audit to be your son now?”
“You need to answer questions about money and travel you requested through the office.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then none of it will be approved.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Lauren was right. You’ve been waiting for an excuse to control us.”
“I invited myself nowhere today, Michael. You asked me to come.”
“We changed our minds.”
“You were free to change your minds. You had four days to tell me before I reached the stairs.”
His voice dropped.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
It was the first clear acknowledgment I had heard from him.
“No,” I said. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I was frustrated.”
“I know.”
“I need you to say you won’t tell the kids I hurt you.”
“They saw it.”
“Emma is upset enough.”
“Then listen to her.”
He ended the call.
An hour later, Emma rang from her own tablet. I could see her sitting on her bedroom floor at home. Noah was beside her, chewing the candy I had brought.
“Dad said our trip got canceled because people at the office were confused,” she said.
I chose my words carefully.
“The plane needed my approval. I didn’t give it after your parents told me I wasn’t welcome.”
“So Dad didn’t tell us the truth?”
“He may need to explain it to you himself.”
Emma lowered her eyes.
“I told him I saw him push you. He said it wasn’t really a push.”
My throat tightened.
“You saw what happened.”
“I thought maybe I was being dramatic.”
“You weren’t.”
She looked relieved, then frightened.
“Can I still visit you?”
“Whenever your parents and I arrange it. I want to see you.”
“Even after today?”
“Especially after today.”
Noah leaned into the picture.
“Did I cause the fight because I asked for candy?”
“Oh, sweetheart. None of this was your fault.”
He nodded, but he did not look convinced.
After we hung up, I called Michael once more. It went to voicemail.
I left a message asking him to reassure Noah.
Then Miriam sent me another note. Michael had already asked Celia to withdraw the second flight request.
That might have been the end of it.
But attached to her note was a copy of an invoice submitted by Michael’s company. It was labeled “family office consultation.”
May you like
The amount was large enough to make me sit down.
And beneath it, in Michael’s handwriting, was a request for payment to a company Lauren owned.
