Like a pet elderly relative being managed by people already measuring the drapes.
I set the page down and turned to Nolan Pike.
“Why are we in a steakhouse instead of your office? Why is my accountant not here? Why is my attorney not copied?”
He gave the smile of a man who had spent years sanding sharp edges off rotten things.
“Privacy is often helpful in family transitions.”
“No,” I said.
“Privacy is helpful when you don’t want witnesses.”
Melissa’s jaw tightened.
Denise gave a little offended sound.
Jason dropped the worried-son act all at once.
“Stop making this harder than it has to be,” he said.
“We know exactly what you have.
We know the cabin is free and clear.
We know the laundromats are worth more than you tell people.
Sign the papers and let us handle it.
You can still live comfortably.”
Comfortably.
The way you speak about pensioning off an employee who has become inconvenient.
I looked at him and suddenly saw every small rescue I had mistaken for love.
The college tuition I covered.
The car loan I paid off when he was twenty-six.
The seed money for the sports bar partnership that disappeared in eighteen months.
The rent check I pretended was temporary.
The legal bill after his friend sued him over a failed business plan.
Every time I told myself I was helping him get steady, I had really been teaching him that my labor existed to cushion his consequences.
“You seem very informed,” I said quietly.
“Because somebody has to be,” he shot back.
I tilted my head.
“This about your debts, Jason? Or
Melissa’s parents’?”
Silence hit the table like glass.
Melissa turned to him instantly.
Ron sat up straighter.
Denise’s mouth parted.
Even Nolan Pike adjusted his cuff and looked away.
There it was.
The live wire.
Jason’s voice changed after that.
The fake polish fell out of it.
