Chapter 8
The day Denise was questioned, I stayed home with Lily.
I didn't want her hearing another argument.
I didn't want her seeing police cars or courthouse buildings.
And I certainly didn't want her believing any of this was her fault.
We spent the morning baking blueberry muffins.
Lily wore a yellow apron.
She stirred batter with enormous concentration.
"Daddy, am I doing it right?"
I smiled.
"Perfectly."
She grinned.
Then dropped a blueberry onto the floor.
It rolled beneath the kitchen island.
She giggled.
"Oops."
I laughed.
"That one's gone forever."
She laughed harder.
For a moment, I forgot everything happening outside our kitchen.
Then my phone vibrated.
Thomas.
I checked the message.
Call when you can.
My stomach tightened.
I waited until Lily was busy decorating muffins.
Then I stepped into the hallway.
Thomas answered immediately.
"Marcus, investigators have interviewed Denise."
I took a breath.
"And?"
"She denied knowingly making unauthorized transfers."
I closed my eyes.
"Of course."
"But the financial records and access logs raise questions that still need answers."
I nodded.
"What's next?"
"The investigation continues. Some accounts have been restricted while the transactions are reviewed."
I leaned against the wall.
"Will my company recover the money?"
"We're pursuing civil recovery while the criminal investigation proceeds."
I thanked him.
Then returned to the kitchen.
Lily looked up.
"Daddy, who was that?"
"Mr. Reed."
She nodded.
Then asked:
"Is Mommy Denise coming back?"
My chest tightened.
I knelt beside her.
"Not to live here, sweetheart."
She looked down.
"Okay."
I studied her face.
"How do you feel about that?"
She thought carefully.
"Sometimes I miss when she made pancakes."
I swallowed.
"That's okay."
"But I don't miss when she yelled."
I nodded.
"That's okay too."
She looked at me.
"Can you miss somebody and still not want them here?"
My heart broke.
"Yes, baby."
She leaned against me.
"Good."
I held her close.
Then she pulled back and pointed toward the oven.
"Daddy, the muffins!"
I laughed.
We rescued them just in time.
That afternoon, Angela came over.
We sat on the patio while Lily played nearby.
Angela watched her for a moment.
"She's doing better."
I nodded.
"Much better."
"How's therapy?"
"Good. Dr. Harris says she's becoming more comfortable expressing herself."
Angela smiled.
"That's wonderful."
I looked toward Lily.
She was arranging toy animals in a circle.
Then she began giving them instructions.
"Everybody gets a turn!"
I laughed softly.
Angela looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I smiled.
"She sounds like her mother."
Angela's expression softened.
"Jasmine?"
I nodded.
"Jasmine always said fairness mattered."
My sister smiled sadly.
"She did."
For a moment, we sat quietly remembering her.
Then Angela asked:
"Have you thought about what comes after the divorce?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Your life."
I looked at her.
"I'm raising Lily."
"Of course."
"And running the company."
"Yes."
She smiled.
"But you're still allowed to have a life of your own."
I laughed.
"Angela, I barely have time to sleep."
She shrugged.
"Then start with something small."
"Like what?"
"Take a day off."
I stared at her.
She laughed.
"See? You look terrified."
I smiled.
Maybe she was right.
I'd spent years working.
Grieving.
Trying to rebuild.
Then trying to hold together a marriage that wasn't healthy.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something simply because it made me happy.
So I took a Friday off.
I took Lily to the aquarium.
We watched dolphins.
Ate ice cream.
Bought a stuffed penguin.
She laughed so much that by the time we got home, she fell asleep in the car.
I carried her inside.
As I tucked her into bed, she opened one eye.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Today was the best day."
I smiled.
"Mine too."
She closed her eyes.
Then whispered:
"Can we do happy days more often?"
My throat tightened.
"Absolutely."
Over the following months, the legal and financial matters moved forward.
Denise's divorce claims were reviewed.
The business transactions were examined.
Jordan provided testimony about the account in his name.
And independent financial records helped establish which transfers had been authorized and which had not.
Eventually, prosecutors filed charges relating to certain unauthorized transactions.
Denise retained counsel.
She continued denying some allegations.
But the evidence was no longer something she could dismiss as a family misunderstanding.
Meanwhile, my company survived.
I worked closely with my accountant to restore financial controls.
We changed access procedures.
Added dual approvals for large transfers.
And hired an outside auditor.
My employees were relieved.
So was I.
The money mattered.
But protecting the people who depended on my business mattered more.
Then something unexpected happened.
Jordan came to my office one afternoon.
He wore a clean button-down shirt.
His locs were neatly tied back.
He looked nervous.
"Marcus, can I talk to you?"
I nodded.
"Of course."
He sat across from me.
Then took a folded paper from his pocket.
"I got accepted."
I frowned.
"Accepted where?"
"Into the automotive technology program at community college."
I stared at him.
Then smiled.
"Jordan, that's great."
He nodded.
"I start next semester."
I leaned back.
"Congratulations."
He looked down.
"Thanks."
Then he took a breath.
"I wanted to tell you because you were the first person who told me to stop letting Mom make all my decisions."
My throat tightened.
Jordan continued.
"I used to think being responsible meant having someone pay for everything."
He laughed nervously.
"Now I know that's not how life works."
I smiled.
"You're learning."
He nodded.
Then he looked at me.
"Do you think Lily will ever forgive me?"
I thought about the little girl coloring at our patio table.
"I think she's already taking steps toward trusting you."
His eyes filled.
"But don't rush her."
He nodded.
"I won't."
I stood and shook his hand.
Then pulled him into a brief hug.
"Keep going, Jordan."
He smiled.
"I will."
As he left, my phone rang.
Thomas.
I answered.
"Marcus, we have a court date."
My stomach tightened.
"For the divorce?"
"Yes."
I took a breath.
"When?"
"Next month."
I looked toward the photograph of Lily on my desk.
May you like
Then I said:
"Good."
