Chapter 9 - The Child Who Heard Everything
Maya called me from a number I did not recognize on Wednesday evening.
“It’s me,” she whispered. “Can I talk to you?”
I stepped onto the balcony. “Of course. Are you safe?”
“I’m at Grandma’s. Mom is in the kitchen.”
“Do you need help?”
“No. I just wanted to say sorry.”
The word broke something in me. “For what?”
“For the birthday thing. Mom said we ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
“She said you hate having us there.”
I closed my eyes. “Maya, I don’t hate you. I care about you very much. Adults made plans without asking each other, and that was not your fault.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I heard them talking.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to. Mom said Uncle Garrett had to get the money before Monday. Grandma said the apartment would solve everything if you left.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know. They said something about Mr. Voss and a signature. Mom said you would sign if everyone cried enough.”
I kept my voice gentle. “Thank you for telling me. You are not responsible for fixing adult problems.”
“Can you still be my aunt if you and Uncle Garrett split up?”
“Yes. If your mom and dad agree to it, I would like that.”
“I do.”
“That is kind, but the grown-ups will make the arrangements.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
I laughed softly. “I’m taking advice from one.”
Maya lowered her voice. “There’s one more thing. Grandma keeps a blue notebook in the hall cabinet. She told Mom not to let Uncle Garrett see it.”
“You shouldn’t look for it.”
“I didn’t. I saw it when she dropped her keys.”
“Thank you for telling me. Now please go back to whatever you were doing, and if anyone asks, you called to say hello.”
“Okay.”
“Maya?”
“Yes?”
“You are not in trouble.”
“I know.”
Her voice said she did not know. So I repeated it until she did.
I told Nina about the call without turning Maya into a witness. Nina agreed that the child should not be questioned or drawn into the case. She said we could investigate the financial trail through records instead.
“The important thing,” Nina said, “is that you keep the children out of adult strategy.”
“I will.”
“And Paige, be careful not to make assumptions based on what a child overhears. It may point us somewhere, but it is not proof.”
“Understood.”
The blue notebook became a clue, not a mission. I did not contact Tabitha. I did not ask Maya to find it. I waited.
Two days later, Tabitha sent me a message asking to meet at a café.
I agreed only if Nina knew where I was and Dana sat at a nearby table. Tabitha arrived late, wearing sunglasses despite the cloudy weather.
“Maya called you,” she said.
“She wanted to say hello.”
“She repeats things.”
“She is a child.”
Tabitha removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were red. “You think I’m using them.”
“I think you brought them to an adult conflict they did not create.”
“I had nowhere else to go.”
“You could have asked.”
“You always say no.”
“I say no when you arrive with luggage.”
She stirred her coffee. “Do you know what it’s like to owe everyone?”
“I know what it’s like to be treated as though my resources belong to everyone else.”
“Mom said Garrett would handle the money.”
“Did you know he was using our savings?”
“I knew he helped.”
“Did you know about the credit line?”
Tabitha looked toward the window.
“Tabitha.”
“I thought it was a loan.”
“In my name?”
“He said you approved it.”
“Did you see me approve it?”
“No.”
The café noise seemed to recede.
“Who created Hale Home Solutions?” I asked.
“I did.”
“What did it do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did money move through it?”
She pressed her lips together. “Mom said we needed a clean account.”
“Clean for what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know more than you’re saying.”
Tabitha looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her face: shame without anger.
“Mom said the house had to stay in the family,” she whispered. “She said if the bank took it, we would all be ruined.”
“Why would my apartment save her house?”
“She said Garrett could borrow against it.”
My heart began to pound.
“He can’t.”
“I know that now.”
“Did he tell you he could?”
“He said you would agree once you understood the emergency.”
The phrase matched the blue tape: Monday, release funds.
Tabitha reached into her purse and took out a folded envelope. “I found this in Mom’s cabinet. I don’t want to be part of this anymore.”
Inside was a photocopy of a letter from a lender demanding payment on a secured loan. The collateral description was vague, but the borrower was Lorraine Hale and the guarantor was Garrett Hale.
No apartment was named. Not yet.
“Why give this to me?” I asked.
“Because Maya heard them say you would be forced out of your own home.”
She swallowed. “I was angry at you for refusing us. But I never wanted my children to learn that needing something gave us the right to take it.”
It was the first honest sentence Tabitha had spoken to me in years.
I folded the letter. “Send the original to Nina. Do not confront your mother.”
May you like
“She’ll know I gave it to you.”
“Then let her be angry at an adult who chose the truth.”
