Chapter 4 - What Amber Had Been Telling Everyone
Lily flinched when Amber pointed at her.
“Tell her,” Amber said.
I held Max’s untouched piece of birthday cake in one hand.
A single blue candle was pressed into the foil.
Then I understood.
Amber wasn’t asking for truth.
She wanted an audience.
“Go inside, Lily,” I said.
Amber’s face hardened.
“She needs to understand consequences.”
“No.”
“She’s old enough.”
“She is ten.”
“So is Max, and apparently he gets to decide whether we can pay rent.”
I stared at my sister.
“You really want to say that out loud?”
Amber crossed her arms.
“You started this.”
“No. I stopped financing it.”
“Same difference.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Lily stood frozen by my porch.
I walked back to her.
“Max is upstairs. Go knock. Tell him you brought cake.”
She looked at her mother.
Amber didn’t speak.
I opened the front door.
Lily went inside.
I waited until it closed.
Then I turned around.
“Never do that again.”
Amber laughed bitterly.
“Do what?”
“Tell Lily she’s responsible for your housing.”
“I didn’t.”
“She just told me you said we’re making you move because of her.”
“I said if you hadn’t gotten mad about the birthday—”
“That is exactly the same thing.”
“She asked.”
“And you gave her an answer that made a ten-year-old feel guilty.”
“Oh, spare me. You’re suddenly Father of the Year because Max looked sad for five minutes?”
That hit harder than I expected.
Not because I believed it.
Because she knew where to aim.
My divorce from Erin had been painful.
Not ugly.
We had worked hard to keep Max out of the middle.
But like every divorced parent I knew, I carried a private inventory of failures.
Missed mornings.
Two homes.
Forgotten school projects.
The Christmas I had to drop him off at noon.
Amber knew that.
And she used it.
I walked toward the curb.
“Why are you here?”
“To talk.”
“You brought Lily.”
“I couldn’t leave her.”
“Jason?”
“Working.”
“Mom?”
“Not answering.”
“Interesting.”
Amber rolled her eyes.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Being the responsible one.”
I stared at her.
“You think I enjoy paying your bills?”
“I think you enjoy having leverage.”
That was new.
“What leverage have I ever used?”
“You’re using it now.”
“After fourteen months.”
“Because I embarrassed you.”
“You embarrassed my son.”
“It was a cake.”
“It was a plan.”
Her face changed.
I continued.
“I saw your conversation with Mom.”
She looked away.
“You discussed it beforehand. You knew I wouldn’t agree. You did it anyway because Mom told you I’d get over it.”
Amber’s jaw tightened.
“So?”
“So stop calling it spontaneous.”
“I never called it spontaneous.”
“You let everyone else think it was.”
“Who cares?”
“Max.”
She threw both hands up.
“Everything is Max, Max, Max.”
I didn’t answer.
She heard herself.
For half a second, regret crossed her face.
Then pride covered it.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Lily always gets less.”
I blinked.
“Less than who?”
“Max.”
“How?”
“You take him places. You buy him things. He has two parents with good jobs.”
“And?”
“And Lily notices.”
“Then you teach her that families have different finances. You don’t teach her that her uncle owes her whatever her cousin has.”
“I never said you owed her.”
“You literally used my money to qualify for your lease.”
Amber’s face flushed.
“Mom did that.”
“You submitted it.”
“We needed somewhere to live.”
“You were already living there.”
“The rent went up.”
“Then you move.”
“You make everything sound so easy.”
“It isn’t easy.”
“Exactly.”
“But hard doesn’t mean impossible.”
Amber looked toward my house.
“You know what Mom says about you?”
I almost laughed.
“I’m beginning to.”
“She says you changed after the divorce.”
“That’s possible.”
“She says Erin made you transactional.”
That one surprised me.
“What does Erin have to do with this?”
“She says you started keeping score.”
I glanced at the foil-covered cake.
“No. I started keeping records.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Before she could answer, my front door opened.
Max appeared.
Lily stood behind him.
Both looked worried.
I immediately lowered my voice.
Max held up the cake.
“Dad, can we eat this?”
I smiled.
“Absolutely.”
He looked at Amber.
“Hi, Aunt Amber.”
Her face softened instantly.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Kids could do that.
Walk into a battlefield and remind everyone they were supposed to be adults.
Lily tugged Max back inside.
The door closed.
Amber watched them go.
Then said quietly, “She loves him.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t want yesterday to hurt him.”
I studied her.
For the first time, I believed part of what she was saying.
“Then why did you do it?”
She rubbed her forehead.
“Because Lily’s party wasn’t going to happen.”
“What?”
“We can’t afford one.”
“You could have told me.”
Her laugh was tired.
“And ask you for more?”
That landed differently.
I waited.
“Jason’s hours got cut again,” she said. “I picked up extra shifts. Mom said everybody would already be there. She said we could bring a cake, sing, and Lily wouldn’t feel like nobody cared.”
“Lily would have been fine with pizza and family at home.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Did you ask her?”
Amber didn’t answer.
Of course she hadn’t.
“She didn’t want that cake,” I said.
Amber’s eyes moved toward the house.
“She told you?”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
“She said she wanted roller skating.”
“Then why didn’t you take her roller skating?”
“Money.”
“I would’ve paid for Lily to go roller skating.”
She gave me a humorless smile.
“Exactly.”
I frowned.
“You’re angry I help and angry when I don’t?”
“I’m tired of needing help.”
That was the first completely honest thing she had said.
I leaned against my mailbox.
“Then why keep living like the help is permanent?”
Her eyes flashed.
“Because every time we start climbing out, something happens.”
“That’s not the same as making no changes.”
“You think Jason isn’t trying?”
“I think I’ve been covering a third of your rent for fourteen months, and nobody has shown me a plan.”
“You’re not our accountant.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I’m apparently your sponsor.”
She flinched.
Good.
Not because I wanted to hurt her.
Because reality needed to reach her.
Amber looked away.
“Mom shouldn’t have signed that.”
“No.”
“I told her not to.”
“But you used it.”
She nodded once.
That admission mattered.
“I was scared,” she said.
I believed that too.
Fear explained things.
It didn’t erase them.
“We’ll figure out a transition,” I said.
Her head snapped toward me.
“What?”
“I said I’d cover this next month. I meant it.”
“You’re still stopping after that?”
“Yes.”
Her hope disappeared.
“Then what transition?”
“I’ll help you look at cheaper apartments. I’ll help with a budget. I’ll help Jason update his résumé if he wants. I’ll help Lily with school expenses directly if she needs something.”
Amber stared at me.
“But not rent.”
“Not indefinitely.”
“You can afford it.”
“Yes.”
She looked almost offended by how easily I admitted it.
“And I’m still saying no.”
She shook her head.
“Mom was right.”
“About?”
“You like control.”
“No, Amber.”
I pointed gently toward her car.
“Control would be telling you where to live because I pay. I’m doing the opposite. I’m giving you back responsibility for your own choices.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then got into her car.
Before closing the door, she said:
“You should ask Mom why she cares so much about keeping us in that apartment.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Amber’s expression changed.
Regret.
She had said too much.
“Nothing.”
“Amber.”
“Forget it.”
She closed the door.
I stepped closer.
She rolled the window down two inches.
“What does Mom have to do with your apartment?”
“She helped us get it.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Amber stared straight ahead.
“You don’t.”
Then she drove away.
That night, I called Greg.
“Do you know why Mom cares about Amber’s apartment?”
He went quiet.
Too quiet.
“Greg?”
“I wondered when that would come up.”
My stomach tightened.
“What would come up?”
“You need to ask Diane.”
“I’m asking you.”
He sighed.
“After your dad died, your mother sold the lake cabin.”
“I know.”
“Do you know where the money went?”
I frowned.
“Into retirement accounts?”
“That’s what she told you?”
“Yes.”
Greg muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“Cole, the cabin sold for almost four hundred thousand.”
“I know.”
“Your mother didn’t put all of it into retirement.”
I stood.
“Where did it go?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“All of what?”
“She gave Amber money.”
“How much?”
Another pause.
“Enough that your sister should never have needed you to pay fourteen months of rent.”
My pulse began pounding.
“How much, Greg?”
“I heard eighty thousand.”
I sat down hard.
“What?”
“But there’s more.”
Of course there was.
“There’s always more.”
Greg lowered his voice.
“Your mother told me the money was gone.”
“How?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
Max and Lily were laughing upstairs.
Two children.
Oblivious.
Good.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
That sentence was becoming our family motto.
Then my phone chimed.
Email.
Unknown sender.
Subject:
Regarding Diane Bennett and Crosswinds Unit 214
There was one attachment.
A scanned agreement.
I opened the first page.
At the top was my mother’s name.
At the bottom was a number.
$62,000.
And directly beneath it was a line labeled:
Repayment secured by tenant reimbursement.
I scrolled to the next page.
May you like
Then stopped.
Because my name appeared there too...
