Chapter 4
I read Claire’s message three times.
The necklace was a small gold heart on a thin chain. My mother wore it in nearly every photograph I had of her. After she died, Dad put it in a box for me to have when I was older.
When I was nine, the box was empty.
Dad and I had searched my room, the attic, every drawer in the house. I believed I had lost it. For years I had carried that thought quietly, afraid to ask him about it again.
Now Claire was using it to frighten me.
“Call her,” I said to Brooke.
Dad shook his head. “Let me.”
He dialed Claire. She answered on the fourth ring.
“What necklace?” he asked.
A pause.
“I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“Where is Leah’s necklace?”
“I don’t know where it is now.”
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
Claire heard me. “Maya, I found it years ago. It was caught behind a drawer.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“I meant to.”
Eight years. Birthdays, school plays, ordinary mornings when I had spoken to her across the table.
Dad’s voice broke. “Claire.”
“I put it somewhere safe,” she said. “When we moved things around, I couldn’t find it again.”
“You told Maya she must have lost it.”
“I thought I had told her I found it.”
She hadn’t.
Dad asked her to send anything she remembered about where she put it. Claire said she would look, then ended the call.
Brooke stared at her phone. “She sent that to me because she knew I’d tell you.”
“Or because she hoped you wouldn’t,” Renee said.
I went upstairs. The room I had slept in since I was little suddenly felt unfamiliar. I pulled open the dresser drawer where Dad had kept my mother’s box. I ran my fingers along the back, though I knew it would be empty.
There was a knock.
Brooke stood outside with two untouched slices of birthday cake.
“I thought you should eat something.”
I took one. We sat on my floor without speaking for a while.
“I used to ask Mom why she was so sharp with you,” Brooke said.
“What did she say?”
“That you reminded Dad of Leah, and sometimes that hurt her.”
I looked at Brooke.
“She told me I should be patient with her,” she continued. “I was. I wish I’d paid more attention to you.”
“You were a kid.”
“So were you.”
I had no answer.
The next morning, Dad and Renee spent hours on calls. The bank opened a formal investigation. The account company gave Dad the records he was entitled to request. Renee contacted another attorney to advise him directly on the dispute, because she wanted Maya’s interests kept clear.
I sat with my college application open and read the same sentence over and over.
My visit was in two weeks. I had imagined telling the admissions officer about my grades and the work I did at the library after school. Now every question seemed to lead back to money.
Dad came in carrying toast.
“Eat,” he said.
I set my laptop aside. “Can I still go?”
“To the visit? Yes.”
“I mean college.”
He sat across from me.
“I don’t know what we’ll recover or when,” he said. “I’m working on it. Renee says the financial aid office can explain what help is available, and I’ll call them with you.”
I hated how much I needed him to say it would be fine.
He reached for my hand.
“I should have protected the account better.”
“You didn’t take it.”
“I gave Claire access, and I missed what was happening in this house.”
I thought of all the times I had gone quiet to keep dinner peaceful.
“I missed things too,” I said.
“You were seventeen,” he replied. “You should have been able to trust us.”
His phone rang before I could answer.
The escrow company had reviewed the dispute. They had paused the closing while they investigated the source of the deposit. They would need documents from Claire and instructions under the purchase agreement before they could say when or to whom funds might be returned.
Dad thanked the caller, then put the phone down.
“It’s still there,” he said.
“For now.”
“Yes. For now.”
Later, a woman from the dealership called. Dad had contacted them about the Mustang, and they wanted copies of the payment information. They could not promise to reverse a completed sale. The manager was willing to meet with us on Monday to discuss taking the car back.
Brooke came into the kitchen while Dad was speaking.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
At noon, Claire arrived without warning.
She stood on the porch beside a man I recognized from family gatherings: her older brother, Evan.
He looked past Dad into the house.
“We need to settle this before your lawyers make it worse,” Evan said.
Renee stepped up beside Dad.
Evan’s smile slipped.
May you like
I looked at his face and realized I had seen his name before.
It was on the real estate message Claire had tried to hide.
