Chapter 6
a company owned by Ranata.
The collateral included their home.
And the loan balance
was far larger than I expected.
“Four hundred and sixty thousand?” I asked.
Desmond nodded.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad stared at the page.
Ranata whispered,
“That has nothing to do with this.”
Desmond turned toward her.
“It has everything to do with this.”
His voice was low.
Exhausted.
“You told me those payments
came from your consulting business.”
“They did.”
“Then why did the deposits
come from your father's accounts?”
The silence that followed
felt like a door being closed.
Desmond reached for another sheet.
A bank statement.
Several transfers were highlighted.
I recognized the amounts immediately.
They matched the entries on Dad's list.
He pointed to one.
“Thirty-two thousand dollars.
You told me it was a client payment.”
Then another.
“Twenty-eight thousand.
You said it was a project bonus.”
And another.
“Forty-one thousand.
You said your company had a strong quarter.”
Ranata gripped the back of her chair.
“I paid for plenty of things myself.”
“Nobody said you didn't,” Desmond answered.
“But those particular payments weren't yours.”
Mom lowered her hands.
“Ranata, where did our money go?”
My sister looked around the kitchen.
For the first time,
there was nowhere safe for her eyes.
Finally, she said,
“I needed it.”
Dad spoke so softly
I almost missed the words.
“For what?”
“My business.”
“You told us it was for Fay.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“When?”
She said nothing.
Dad's face hardened.
“When were you going to tell us?”
“I thought things would turn around.”
“Fourteen years?”
Her expression changed.
Fear became irritation.
Then something sharper.
“You don't know what it's like
having everyone expect you to succeed.”
I stared at her.
She was wearing an expensive cream sweater.
A watch I had once seen
displayed behind glass in a jewelry store.
Her manicured hands were trembling.
“You're right,” I said.
“I don't know what it's like
having everyone believe I'm successful.”
She looked at me.
I continued.
“I know what it's like
having everyone believe I'm a failure.”
Mom began crying.
Quietly at first.
Then with the terrible helplessness
of someone watching an old memory
turn into something unrecognizable.
Ranata pointed toward my folder.
“And apparently none of that matters now.
She's rich.”
I looked at her.
There it was.
The thing beneath everything.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
“You think my money makes this disappear?”