Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO GAVE AWAY MY MOTHER'S HOUSE
"Don't let Diane leave the hotel."
My father had never sounded so frightened.
For a moment, I wondered whether the man I'd respected my entire life was afraid of being exposed as something terrible.
"Dad, why?"
"Because if she leaves with certain things, we'll never be able to put this right."
"What things?"
"Come downstairs, Ryan."
He ended the call.
I looked at Rachel.
"Did you know my father recognized your mother?"
She shook her head.
"I don't think so."
"Well, apparently they have a history neither of us understands."
Rachel reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
The hurt in her eyes was unmistakable.
But I couldn't comfort her.
Not yet.
"Take off the wedding ring," I said.
She stared at me.
"Ryan—"
"Please. I can't look at it right now."
Her fingers trembled as she removed the diamond band I'd placed there that afternoon.
She set it on the nightstand.
Then she followed me downstairs.
The reception was still in full swing.
Golden chandeliers illuminated tables covered in white roses. Nearly three hundred guests were laughing, eating, and congratulating one another.
My uncle lifted his glass when he spotted us.
"There they are! The newlyweds!"
People applauded.
I forced a smile.
Rachel kept her eyes lowered.
My father stood near the ballroom entrance, holding a glass he hadn't touched.
When he saw us, he immediately approached.
"Ryan, let's speak privately."
"No more private conversations that leave me knowing less than I did before."
He glanced at Rachel.
"Does she know?"
"Enough," I said.
My father looked devastated.
He led us into a small conference room beside the ballroom.
Diane was already there.
She stood by the window, holding her expensive handbag against her chest.
I hadn't seen my mother-in-law look nervous before.
"What's this about?" she asked.
My father shut the door.
"Thomas Richardson."
Diane's expression hardened.
"So we're finally saying his name."
"You're using our children to settle something between us."
Diane laughed bitterly.
"Our children? You mean the son who inherited everything and the daughter who watched her father lose his dignity?"
"That doesn't justify what you've done."
"Neither does what you did, James."
I stepped between them.
"Enough."
They both stopped.
"I have spent five years believing I was building a future with Rachel. Tonight I learned that her mother selected me like an investment."
Diane looked away.
"And now I'm finding out that my father helped destroy a man who may have been innocent."
My father closed his eyes.
"Ryan—"
"Tell me about Cedar Glen."
He sat down heavily.
"In 2007, Whitmore Development was struggling with a major construction project. We had forty-one families who'd paid into a protected reserve connected to their homes."
"What happened to their money?"
My father rubbed his forehead.
"Company accounts were moved around during a financing crisis. Money that should have remained untouched was used to keep the development operating."
"Who authorized it?"
He hesitated.
"That's part of what we need to establish."
Diane slapped her handbag onto the table.
"Twenty years, James. You're still finding ways not to answer."
He ignored her.
"Thomas discovered irregularities. He challenged senior management. Shortly afterward, the company announced that he was responsible."
"Was he?"
"No."
"Did you know that?"
My father looked at me.
"Yes."
I felt something inside me break.
"You let an innocent man lose everything?"
"I convinced myself that correcting it would bankrupt the company and put hundreds of employees out of work."
"You mean you protected your business."
His shoulders sagged.
"Yes."
For the first time in my life, I saw my father without the armor of his success.
He looked ashamed.
But shame wasn't the same as accountability.
I turned toward Diane.
"And you decided I should pay for that?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"Your father had a lifetime to make things right."
"Then why didn't you confront him? Why use Rachel?"
Diane looked toward her daughter.
"Because James always knew how to make problems disappear. I needed something he couldn't ignore."
Rachel whispered, "You used me too."
Diane didn't answer.
I turned back to my father.
"Why give us the lake house?"
He looked startled.
"What?"
"You gave Rachel and me the place Mom loved more than anywhere. Why?"
"I wanted you to have a happy marriage."
"Was that the only reason?"
His silence answered me.
Finally, he said, "Your mother kept records there. Personal notes, photographs, things Thomas gave her. I knew Rachel had been looking into her father's past."
I stared at him.
"You gave away Mom's house because you knew Rachel was investigating you?"
"I thought if she found what she needed, maybe the past could finally be settled."
"Without you having to tell me?"
He lowered his head.
Diane suddenly spoke.
"Ask him about Margaret's fishing box."
My father went completely still.
Rachel looked confused.
"What fishing box?"
Diane smiled without warmth.
"The little cedar box Margaret kept beneath the bench by the lake. Thomas told me she kept everything that mattered inside it."
I remembered that box.
My mother used to store fishing hooks, old postcards, and handwritten recipes in it.
After she died, I couldn't bear to open it.
My father stared at Diane.
"How do you know about that?"
"Thomas told me."
I watched Rachel carefully.
She was no longer looking at Diane.
She was looking at the floor.
"Rachel," I said slowly, "have you ever opened my mother's fishing box?"
Her face turned white.
My father looked between us.
Then Rachel whispered:
"Yes."
A terrible feeling settled in my stomach.
"When?"
She swallowed.
"Six weeks ago."
May you like
I stared at my wife.
"And what did you take?"
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