Chapter 3 - THE BLUE NOTEBOOK
Nobody moved.
Claire read the number again.
Two thousand four hundred sixty dollars.
Evan stood beside her.
“Is that mine?”
Helen reached for the paper.
Claire pulled it away.
“Answer him.”
“Claire, not in front of the children.”
“He is the child whose name is on it.”
Helen’s jaw tightened.
Evan looked between the adults.
“Grandma?”
Helen finally looked at him.
Her voice softened.
“It’s complicated, sweetheart.”
Evan frowned.
“It just says my name.”
That silenced the room.
Emma rose slowly from the kitchen table.
“Grandma, where’s the blue notebook?”
Helen looked at Dana.
“Take the children outside.”
Emma folded her arms.
“I’m twelve, not four.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
Dana looked at her daughter in surprise.
Emma pointed toward Evan.
“You gave me his birthday money. If you did other stuff too, I want to know.”
Helen’s face flushed.
Claire had seen that expression her entire childhood.
It was the look her mother wore when control slipped away.
Helen opened a cabinet above the refrigerator.
Behind a stack of old cookbooks sat a small blue notebook.
She put it on the table.
Claire opened it.
The first page contained dates and initials.
E — $40.
EM — $25.
J — $30.
Then notes.
School shoes.
Electric.
Field trip.
Dance deposit.
Groceries.
Winter coat.
Claire turned another page.
Evan’s name appeared more often than anyone else’s.
Not because relatives loved him more.
Because Helen had taken from him more.
Claire’s chest tightened.
“You kept a ledger.”
“I intended to repay it.”
“With what?”
Helen said nothing.
Dana pulled the notebook toward herself.
Her face drained.
“January eighth. Two hundred dollars. Electric.”
Helen stared at the table.
“That was me.”
“Yes.”
“You told me Dad left you emergency cash.”
“I was protecting you.”
Dana looked sick.
“No. You told me it was yours.”
“It became mine once it was in this house.”
Claire’s head snapped up.
“No, it did not.”
Helen slapped the table.
“I was trying to keep my daughter and granddaughter from losing heat in January!”
Emma flinched.
Dana went rigid.
Claire lowered her voice.
“Nobody is saying you shouldn’t have helped Dana.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“You don’t help one child by taking from another.”
Helen laughed bitterly.
“You can replace it.”
Claire stared at her.
There it was again.
The real arithmetic.
Claire earns more.
Therefore Evan can lose more.
Dana struggles.
Therefore Emma deserves more.
Nothing belonged to a child if Helen believed another child needed it more.
Dana kept reading.
Then she stopped.
“What does ‘rent—M’ mean?”
Helen looked away.
Dana stood.
“Mom.”
“Your ex was six weeks behind.”
“My rent was never six weeks behind.”
“You didn’t know.”
Dana’s face changed.
“What?”
“He stopped transferring his half before he told you he was leaving.”
Dana stared at her.
“You paid my rent before Matt left?”
Helen said nothing.
Claire felt the shape of the story changing.
Dana had spent years believing her divorce began abruptly.
Apparently Helen had known the marriage was financially collapsing before Dana did.
“How much did he tell you?” Dana asked.
“Enough.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You were already falling apart.”
“So you took money from children instead?”
“I thought I could fix it before you ever knew.”
Dana closed the notebook.
Her anger was no longer aimed at Claire.
Emma looked at her mother.
“Were we poor?”
Dana immediately knelt beside her.
“No, baby.”
“You said Grandma paid the lights.”
“For one month. Maybe two. I didn’t know where she got the money.”
Emma looked embarrassed.
“We could have used less lights.”
Despite everything, Claire almost smiled.
Dana touched her daughter’s cheek.
“That’s not how electric bills work.”
Evan tugged Claire’s sleeve.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If Grandma was going to pay it back, can she just do that?”
Helen’s eyes filled unexpectedly.
Claire wished they hadn’t.
It would have been easier if her mother had remained hard.
“We’ll figure it out,” Claire said.
Evan nodded.
“I mostly want the telescope money.”
Helen covered her mouth.
That reaction was too strong.
Claire caught it immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You reacted.”
“I did not.”
“Mom.”
Helen shook her head.
Dana opened the notebook again.
“There’s something here about a telescope.”
Claire moved beside her.
Near the back was an entry from two years earlier.
ROBERT — STAR MONEY — $900.
No child’s name.
No explanation.
Claire’s father had been Robert.
He had died nineteen months earlier.
Evan adored him.
He was the reason Evan wanted a telescope.
Grandpa Robert used to take him onto the back porch and point out constellations with an old pair of binoculars.
Claire looked at her mother.
“What is star money?”
Helen’s voice was barely audible.
“Your father liked silly projects.”
Dana’s expression hardened.
“What project?”
Helen shut her eyes.
Emma stepped closer.
“Grandma?”
Finally Helen said, “Robert started saving money for a telescope.”
Evan’s face lit up.
“For me?”
Helen did not answer.
Claire felt cold.
“How much?”
“Nine hundred.”
“Where is it?”
Helen stood.
“This has gone far enough.”
Claire blocked her path.
“No. You don’t get to make that decision anymore.”
“I said I will repay everything.”
“This isn’t about repayment now. My father saved nine hundred dollars for something he planned with my son. Where is it?”
“I didn’t spend it.”
Claire stared at her.
For the first time all afternoon, that sounded truthful.
“Then where?”
Helen pressed her lips together.
Dana spoke softly.
“Mom, if you still have it, give it to Evan.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Helen’s eyes moved toward the living room.
Toward the old walnut mantel clock that had belonged to Robert.
Then toward a framed photograph of him holding Evan on his shoulders.
“I just can’t.”
Claire followed her gaze.
Suddenly she remembered something.
Her father’s watch.
A stainless-steel Omega he had worn for nearly forty years.
After the funeral, Claire had asked about it.
Helen had said it was being repaired.
Nineteen months ago.
“Where’s Dad’s watch?”
Helen went completely still.
Dana frowned.
“What does Dad’s watch have to do with this?”
Claire didn’t know.
But Helen did.
Claire walked toward the hallway.
Her mother caught her arm.
“Don’t.”
Claire looked down at the hand gripping her sleeve.
“Don’t what?”
Helen whispered, “Open his desk.”
Claire pulled free.
Robert’s old desk had remained untouched since his death.
Claire opened the top drawer.
Receipts.
Pens.
A pair of reading glasses.
Then she saw the black watch box.
Inside lay Robert’s watch.
Wrapped around it was a folded piece of paper.
Claire unfolded it.
Her father’s handwriting covered one side.
Only one sentence was underlined.
May you like
Helen—what happened to you as a girl was wrong.
Doing the same thing to a boy will not make it right.
