“Tom’s letter suggested the third option.
But it’s your choice, not his.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Daniel.
I looked at Diane.
She nodded once.
I answered and put it on speaker.
“Claire, hey — I’ve been trying to reach you.
Did you get my message?”
“I did,” I said.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Of course, of course.
I just — I wanted to talk before things got complicated.
You know how lawyers can make everything more formal than it needs to be.” A small, practiced laugh.
“Tom and I always handled things between ourselves.
I think he’d want that to continue.”
“What things specifically?” I said.
A pause.
Shorter than he wanted it to be.
“Just — the estate.
Making sure everything is divided fairly.
Tom and I had some shared history, financially, and I want to make sure that’s accounted for properly before—”
“Before I meet with Diane Marsh?” I said.
Silence.
“You’ve already spoken with her.”
“She’s been my attorney since the day we landed,” I said.
“Tom arranged it.”
Another silence.
Longer.
“Claire.” His voice had changed — the warmth thinned out, something harder underneath.
“I don’t know what she’s told you, but there are two sides to every—”
“I have the account records, Daniel.”
The line went very quiet.
“I have forty-one transactions over twenty-six months,” I said.
“I have the dates.
I have the amounts.
I have the two deposits you made after Tom confronted you, and I have the twenty-four months of nothing after that.”
“That account was — Tom and I had an arrangement—”
“Tom’s letter says otherwise.”
I heard him exhale.
A long, slow breath that was trying to be controlled and wasn’t quite making it.
“He left a letter,” Daniel said.
Not a question.
“He thought of everything,” I said.
“You know how he was.”
Diane was watching me with her hands flat on the table and her expression completely still.
“What do you want?” Daniel said finally.
“I want you to come here,” I said.
“Today.
And I want you to sit down with Diane and me and talk about how you’re going to make this right.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then Diane files the bank report tomorrow morning and it stops being a family conversation.”
The silence stretched.
“I’ll be there at two,” he said.
He hung up.
I set the phone on the table.
Diane picked up her coffee.
“Well done,” she said.
“I feel sick,” I said.
“That’s appropriate,” she said.
“It means you’re taking it seriously.” She paused.
“He’ll come.
And he’ll have a story.
Let him tell it.
Don’t interrupt.
When he’s finished, I’ll speak.
