Chapter 4 - THE LIE THEY TOLD ABOUT MY DEAD WIFE
“A gift?”
I spoke the word aloud as I sat in my driveway.
My daughter was inside with Tessa, working on a puzzle.
I had just discovered that my sister had described Mara's life insurance money as a family gift.
Money my wife had left behind for our child.
Money I'd used because I couldn't bear watching my parents lose their home.
Now Ainsley wanted strangers to believe that sacrifice had somehow been repaid.
I typed a response.
Show me where the repayment happened.
Ainsley didn't answer.
Instead, she removed me from the Christmas group chat.
For several seconds, I stared at the notification.
Then I started laughing.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
After years of paying for their holiday dinners, I'd finally asked one uncomfortable financial question.
And apparently that was enough to get me excluded from Christmas entirely.
When I entered the house, Luna ran toward me.
“Daddy! We finished the thousand-piece puzzle!”
Tessa smiled from the kitchen.
“She found the missing edge piece under the couch.”
“Because the carpet was making a bump,” Luna explained.
I knelt beside her.
“Great detective work.”
She studied me.
“Did Grandma get mad?”
I hesitated.
“We had a disagreement.”
“About the chairs?”
I looked at her.
“How did you know?”
“Grandma said on the phone that you were being difficult about Christmas.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did she say anything else?”
Luna shrugged.
“She said sometimes grown-ups have to make sacrifices.”
I brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“Sweetheart, you don't have to sacrifice your place at the table to make other people happy.”
She considered that.
“Okay.”
Then she returned to her puzzle.
I wished the adults in my family understood things as clearly.
The following morning, I arranged to meet Brooks Pemberton at a small coffee shop near downtown Asheville.
I'd met Brooks several times.
He was thirty-two, worked in commercial property development, and came from a family that had built a successful regional business.
He was polite, careful with his words, and seemed genuinely devoted to Ainsley.
I'd never particularly disliked him.
But I'd never trusted how quickly my sister changed around him.
She laughed differently.
Spoke differently.
Even pretended to enjoy foods she'd hated since childhood.
I wondered how much of the person Brooks loved was real.
When he arrived, he looked uncomfortable.
“Wes, is this about Christmas?”
“Partly.”
He pulled out a chair.
“Ainsley says things have gotten tense.”
“They have.”
“She's worried you're trying to stop her business.”
I took out my phone and showed him the quitclaim deed.
“Have you seen this?”
He examined the first page.
His eyebrows drew together.
“Why would you be transferring your ownership?”
“That's what I'd like to know.”
Brooks looked up.
“You own part of the house?”
“One-third. I contributed more than seventy-six thousand dollars when my parents refinanced.”
His expression changed.
“I didn't know that.”
“And I've paid the mortgage ever since.”
He slowly placed the phone on the table.
“My parents were told the house belonged entirely to your mom and dad.”
“Apparently.”
Brooks rubbed his jaw.
“Ainsley said you'd already been reimbursed.”
“I haven't received a dollar.”
He looked genuinely shaken.
For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
Then he said something unexpected.
“My parents weren't just interested in financing a store.”
I waited.
“They were interested because Ainsley said the business had a personal mission.”
“What mission?”
Brooks hesitated.
“She wants to create a place where children who have trouble with busy environments can explore science and learn comfortably.”
That sounded surprisingly thoughtful.
Mara had once talked about how difficult ordinary children's events could be when nobody considered noise, lighting, or different ways of communicating.
Ainsley had been present for some of those conversations.
Maybe she'd remembered.
I felt a brief, reluctant flicker of hope.
“That's a good idea,” I said.
Brooks nodded.
“She said it came from watching Luna grow up.”
Something inside me tightened.
“What exactly did she say about Luna?”
He shifted in his chair.
“Wes, I don't want to get between you and your sister.”
“You already are. My daughter's name is being used in a financial proposal I knew nothing about.”
Brooks looked down.
“Ainsley told my parents that Luna had serious medical needs and that your family wanted to create something meaningful out of the experience.”
I felt cold.
“Luna doesn't have a serious medical illness.”
Brooks frowned.
“I know she's autistic.”
“Being autistic doesn't mean she's sick.”
“Of course. I didn't mean—”
“Then what medical needs did Ainsley describe?”
Brooks swallowed.
“She said your family faced extraordinary expenses and that the store would eventually help provide resources for children like Luna.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
My sister had excluded Luna from Christmas because she worried about what the Pembertons might think.
Yet she'd apparently used that same little girl to make her business proposal more appealing.
Brooks opened his laptop.
“There's something you should see.”
He pulled up the presentation Ainsley had prepared for his parents.
The opening slides showed bright rooms, science kits, educational games, and cheerful families.
Then he reached a slide titled:
OUR INSPIRATION.
My breath caught.
There, in the center of the screen, was a photograph of Luna.
She was sitting on our front porch, holding the observation notebook Mara had given her before she died.
I remembered taking that picture the previous spring.
I'd sent it to Mom because Luna had identified her first luna moth.
Beneath the photograph, Ainsley had written a paragraph describing my daughter as a child struggling with a debilitating condition.
The words were exaggerated, misleading, and deeply unfair.
Then I saw the next slide.
It contained a projected funding breakdown.
One category caught my eye.
FAMILY MEDICAL SUPPORT AND TRANSITIONAL EXPENSES.
The amount beside it was $45,000.
I turned toward Brooks.
“What is that money supposed to pay for?”
He looked at the screen.
“I assumed it was connected to Luna.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
May you like
Then I pointed to my daughter's photograph.
“Brooks, my sister is asking your parents for forty-five thousand dollars in my daughter's name. And I have absolutely no idea where she intends to put it.”
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