Chapter 4 - The Woman at the Diner
Grandma slapped my father.
The sound cracked through the storage hallway.
Dad didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Grandma’s hand trembled at her side.
“How dare you.”
Dad rubbed his cheek.
“I’m tired of carrying everyone’s secrets.”
“What man?” I asked.
Grandma looked away.
“Evan.”
“What man died?”
She didn’t answer.
Dad did.
“Martin Cole.”
The fired lawyer.
“When?”
“The night Margaret disappeared.”
I stared at Grandma.
She lowered herself onto the cart again.
“He died in a car accident.”
Dad gave a bitter laugh.
“That’s what the police concluded.”
“What does Margaret have to do with it?”
“She met him that night.”
Grandma said, “Stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know what happened.”
Dad’s eyes flashed.
“Exactly.”
I looked at the diner address.
Then at both of them.
“I’m going.”
Dad stepped forward.
“No.”
“I’m thirty-four years old.”
“This isn’t about controlling you.”
“That would be a first tonight.”
His face tightened.
But he stepped aside.
Grandma rose.
“I’m coming.”
The message said come alone.
“I’m not leaving you here.”
Dad said, “Take her.”
We both looked at him.
He nodded.
“If Margaret is there, she deserves to see Mother.”
I almost asked if he wanted to come.
Then another memory hit me.
Grandma on the nursing facility bench.
No.
He could wait.
The Lakeside Diner sat near the water, a narrow building with glowing red letters and six cars in the parking lot.
Grandma and I entered.
My mother sat in a booth at the back.
Across from her was the woman from the photograph.
Margaret.
Grandma stopped breathing.
Or seemed to.
The woman stood.
For twenty-eight years, they had been separated.
There was no dramatic running.
No music.
No perfect reunion.
Grandma simply whispered, “Maggie.”
Margaret’s face collapsed.
“Mom.”
They crossed the space between them.
Then Grandma held her daughter.
Margaret buried her face against her mother’s shoulder.
Both women cried.
I turned away.
My mother did too.
For one minute, nobody cared about the company.
Then Margaret pulled back.
“You got old.”
Grandma laughed through tears.
“So did you.”
Margaret smiled.
“I had a head start.”
Then she saw me.
Her expression changed completely.
“You’re Evan.”
I nodded.
“You look like Arthur.”
Nobody had ever told me that.
Margaret reached into her coat pocket.
“I’m sorry you had to learn any of this.”
She handed me a cassette tape.
I stared at it.
Grandma gasped.
“You took it.”
Margaret nodded.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“How did you know where it was?”
“Dad told me.”
Grandma looked confused.
“Arthur?”
“In a letter.”
She slid into the booth.
We joined her.
Mom sat beside me.
I turned to her.
“You knew Margaret was alive.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three weeks.”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Of course.”
“Evan, listen—”
“No. Everybody keeps telling me to listen after lying to me for decades.”
Margaret raised a hand.
“He’s right.”
Mom fell silent.
Margaret looked at Grandma.
“I contacted Linda first.”
My mother.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t trust Richard.”
Grandma lowered her gaze.
“You still don’t?”
“No.”
“After all this time?”
Margaret looked at me.
“I don’t know what to believe about him.”
I placed the cassette on the table.
“What’s on this?”
“My father’s statement.”
“You listened?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
She looked toward the diner windows.
“It proves Richard didn’t forge the transfer.”
Grandma stared.
Dad had told the truth.
“Then who did?”
“Martin Cole.”
The dead lawyer.
Margaret continued.
“Arthur discovered Cole had been stealing from the company. Cole knew Arthur planned to fire him and report him.”
“So he forged the transfer?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To create a fight between Richard and me.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if the company is distracted long enough for records to disappear.”
“What records?”
“Payments.”
Grandma whispered, “The missing money.”
Margaret nodded.
“Cole was moving company funds into shell accounts.”
I leaned back.
“So Dad thought you did it. You thought Dad did it.”
“Yes.”
“And Cole stole from both of you.”
“Yes.”
“Then Cole died.”
Margaret’s hands tightened around her coffee cup.
“I confronted him.”
That was the part everyone had been circling.
“What happened?”
“He asked me to meet him outside Sandusky.”
“Why?”
“He said he had proof Richard forged my name.”
She swallowed.
“When I got there, he admitted everything.”
“And then?”
“He tried to leave.”
“In his car?”
“Yes.”
“Were you with him?”
“No.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because he threatened Richard.”
I frowned.
“He said if I exposed him, he would make sure Richard went to prison for the theft.”
“Could he?”
“He had records with Richard’s signature.”
“Forged?”
“I believe so.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“I was twenty-six.”
Her voice shook.
“I was angry, scared, and convinced my brother had stolen my inheritance. Then I learned somebody had been using both of us.”
She looked at Grandma.
“I drove home that night.”
Grandma covered her mouth.
“You were there?”
“Outside.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I saw Richard’s car.”
Dad.
Margaret’s eyes hardened.
“He had followed me.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I saw him leave about an hour later.”
“And Cole?”
“Cole died on Route 2 before midnight.”
The diner seemed to get smaller.
I whispered, “You thought Dad killed him.”
Margaret nodded.
“For years.”
Mom looked stunned.
“You never told me that.”
“No.”
“Then why come back?”
Margaret touched the cassette.
“Because Dad’s recording says something else.”
“Grandpa knew about the meeting?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He had hired an investigator before he died.”
Grandma stared at her.
“Arthur never told me.”
“He was trying to protect you.”
Grandma laughed bitterly.
“That seems to be the family disease.”
Margaret almost smiled.
Then her face became serious.
“The recording says Arthur placed evidence in a second location.”
“What evidence?”
“Original bank records. Cole’s correspondence. The trust.”
“I thought the trust was in the storage box.”
“A copy.”
“Where are the originals?”
Margaret looked at Mom.
Mom removed a folded document from her purse.
“A property deed.”
I read the address.
A small house outside Fremont.
Grandma whispered, “The cottage.”
“What cottage?”
“Arthur’s fishing place.”
Dad had never mentioned it.
Of course he hadn’t.
“Does Dad know?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not unless someone told him.”
The diner door opened.
Every one of us looked up.
Dad entered.
Grandma sighed.
“Apparently someone did.”
He walked toward us.
Margaret stood.
Brother and sister looked at each other for the first time in twenty-eight years.
Dad’s face crumpled.
“Maggie.”
Margaret did not move.
“You followed him.”
Dad stopped.
“What?”
“The night Martin Cole died.”
Mom looked between them.
Grandma gripped the table.
Dad’s eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Margaret’s voice shook.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you were meeting him.”
“What happened after I left?”
Dad didn’t answer.
“Richard.”
He looked at his sister.
“I got into Cole’s car.”
Margaret went pale.
I felt my heart pound.
“What happened?”
Dad stared at the cassette tape on the table.
Then he said, “Before I answer that, you need to know something.”
“What?”
He looked directly at Margaret.
“Martin Cole was still alive when I left him.”
Nobody spoke.
Dad swallowed.
“And I know who saw him after me.”
Mom’s face changed.
May you like
Dad slowly turned toward her.
“Linda.”
