Chapter 6
Michael asked if I would come to his house that evening.
“I need to talk to Emma and Noah,” he said. “They’ll believe you if you’re there.”
“They need to hear it from you.”
“I know. Please.”
I agreed, though I spent the whole drive worrying that my presence would make the children feel forced to choose sides.
When I arrived, Noah opened the door. He hugged my waist so suddenly I nearly dropped my bag.
“You came back,” he said.
“I said I would.”
Emma stood behind him. She did not run to me. She looked at my shoulders first, as though checking for an injury she had imagined there all week.
“I’m okay,” I told her.
She nodded and let me hold her hand.
Lauren was in the living room. Her eyes were red, but she greeted me and moved aside so I could sit near the children.
Michael stayed standing.
“I told you the airport had made a mistake,” he began.
Emma looked at the floor.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said. “Grandma was invited. Lauren and I decided we wanted to go without her, and I didn’t tell her before she came.”
Noah climbed closer to me.
“I was angry when she asked why,” Michael continued. “I pushed her. I should never have done that.”
Emma looked up at him.
“You said I didn’t see it right.”
“I did. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”
Her face crumpled.
“That made me think badly of myself.”
Michael sat down. He did not reach for her.
“I know. I was wrong.”
Noah’s voice was very small.
“Was it because I asked Grandma to come?”
“No,” Michael said quickly. “None of it was because of you.”
“You got mad after I talked about candy.”
“That was a coincidence. I made those choices.”
Lauren wiped her cheeks.
“I agreed not to call Grandma when our plans changed,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”
Emma watched her mother.
“You laughed when Dad pushed her.”
Lauren’s hand stopped moving.
I could see she wanted to explain it away. I also saw her decide not to.
“I did,” she said. “I was being cruel. I’m sorry, Grandma.”
I had wanted those words. Hearing them, I discovered I could accept an apology without pretending the hurt had vanished.
“Thank you,” I said.
Emma came over then. She rested her head against my shoulder.
Michael waited until both children had gone upstairs before asking me to stay.
In the kitchen, Lauren poured water for everyone. Nobody drank it.
“We’ll pay back the invoice,” Michael said.
“Daniel will send you the amount and the records,” I told him. “You should review them too.”
Lauren nodded.
“I’ve gathered the hours I can support. I billed for work I didn’t do. I can’t defend that.”
It was more direct than I had expected.
“Why?” I asked.
She looked at Michael.
“When Thomas died, people kept saying how much the family office did for everyone. Michael told me I should be paid for helping. I wanted the money. I also wanted to be treated as someone whose work mattered.”
“You could have asked for a fee before taking the work,” I said.
“I should have.”
Michael leaned on the counter.
“And I told Paula Mom had approved it because I was afraid she’d say no.”
“You could have asked me,” I said.
“You always said yes when Dad was alive.”
“I often did.”
“I thought you’d started saying no because you didn’t trust me.”
I thought about that.
After Thomas died, I had tried to keep everything familiar for Michael. I said yes to small things, postponed hard talks, and assumed he understood where the boundaries were. He had taken my silence for agreement.
“I should have been clearer,” I said. “That does not make it all right to speak for me.”
“I know.”
Lauren looked at him.
“We both knew she hadn’t agreed.”
He nodded.
There was a long quiet stretch. From upstairs came Noah’s laughter, followed by Emma telling him to keep his voice down.
For a moment, the house felt like an ordinary home again.
Then Michael said, “I need to tell you something about the business.”
I turned to him.
“The lender Dad introduced me to is renewing our credit line next month. They asked for updated financial statements. I used the office as a reference.”
“That’s accurate,” I said. “You’ve worked with us.”
“I told them the family office would stand behind the company if it had a bad quarter.”
“Did you promise them money?”
“Not in writing.”
“Michael.”
“We had two contracts delayed. I thought I could cover the gap before anyone asked.”
Lauren stared at him.
“You said the renewals were fine.”
“They might be.”
I felt the old urge to take over. I could call the lender, move money, and make the problem disappear before dinner.
But we had reached the kitchen precisely because problems had been disappearing behind my back.
“Show Daniel everything tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll understand the numbers before anyone promises anything.”
Michael’s jaw worked.
“Can you at least tell the lender you support me?”
“I can tell them the truth: I love you, and I haven’t agreed to guarantee your business.”
“That may not be enough.”
“Then we need to know what is.”
He looked toward the stairs, where his children were getting ready for bed.
“I thought Dad would have trusted me.”
“Your father asked questions,” I said. “You hated them when you were young.”
A faint, sad smile crossed Michael’s face.
“He always knew when I’d skipped a step.”
“He gave you room to fix it.”
Michael’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know if I can fix this.”
“Then start by showing us what happened.”
The next morning, he sent Daniel the statements.
An hour later, Daniel called me.
“The delayed contracts aren’t the only problem,” he said. “Michael has been paying some business expenses from a personal account.”
“Whose account?”
May you like
Daniel paused.
“One Thomas opened for Emma and Noah.”
