Fear of the truth reaching people who hadn’t known what he’d done.
Christy suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“I was only joking.”
Nobody answered.
Karina turned another page.
“Forty-six thousand dollars?”
Donnie stood.
“Give me that.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But it carried enough urgency that Benton stopped smiling.
Karina looked toward their son.
Then back at Donnie.
“What’s happening?”
He took the papers.
“We’ll discuss it later.”
Then he walked into his office and closed the door.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Benton looked worried.
“Did I read something wrong?”
My heart tightened.
I knelt beside him.
“No, sweetheart.”
He looked toward the office.
“Is Daddy upset?”
I took his hand.
“Sometimes grown-ups have difficult things to talk about. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
He nodded slowly.
Then I hugged him.
Karina stood beside the table, looking toward the closed office door.
Christy stared at her wineglass.
I picked up my coat.
Aunt Linda whispered, “Tracy, you don’t have to leave.”
I looked around the room.
The unfinished pie.
The Christmas candles.
The paper napkins decorated with little snowmen.
I had spent the evening being laughed at because my marriage was ending.
Now the truth about the money had begun appearing in front of everyone.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt terribly tired.
“I think I should go home,” I said.
Karina looked at me.
For a moment, our eyes met.
She didn’t blame me.
That was something.
I hugged Benton again.
Then left.
Outside, snow was beginning to fall.
I sat in my car for several minutes before starting the engine.
Christmas music played softly on the radio.
I turned it off.
The silence felt easier.
The following morning, Christy called.
I almost didn’t answer.
Then I did.
“Tracy, what were you thinking?”
I closed my eyes.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Do you know how upset Donnie is?”
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“Yes.”
“Then why are you dragging his business into your divorce?”
I took a slow breath.
“Christy, I didn’t create those payments.”
She was quiet.
“And I didn’t bring that subpoena to the dinner table.”
She exhaled.
“I thought they were just your divorce papers.”
“They were legal documents from my attorney’s investigation.”
Christy hesitated.
“Donnie says there was a problem with the bank dates.”
I looked toward the window.
“Then he can explain that under oath.”
She sounded irritated.
“You’re really going to make your own brother testify?”
I felt something painful settle inside my chest.
“He received forty-six thousand dollars from Tommy’s company. If it was for legitimate work, the records should show that.”
Christy didn’t answer.
I continued.
“The divorce isn’t the reason those payments exist.”
She sighed.
“You always make everything so complicated.”
I looked toward the phone.
“No, Christy. I spent fourteen years trying to keep everything simple by trusting my husband. That didn’t work.”
She was silent.
Then she ended the call.
I sat there for a while.
Her words hurt.
Not because they were new.
Because they sounded so much like the things I’d told myself for years.
Don’t ask too many questions.
Don’t make people uncomfortable.
Don’t turn a family problem into a bigger one.
Accept what you’re offered.
Move on.
I was beginning to understand how much that way of thinking had cost me.
Two nights later, Donnie called.
It was late.
I had already changed into pajamas and was reading on the couch.
When I answered, his voice sounded strained.
“Trace.”
“Hi, Donnie.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then said, “I need you to drop the subpoena.”
I stared at the wall.
“Why?”
“Because this whole thing is getting out of hand.”
I took a slow breath.
“Then tell Dina what the payments were for.”
He sighed.
“You don’t understand business arrangements.”
“Then explain them.”
He didn’t answer.
After a moment, he said, “What if I pay you something?”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Six thousand nine hundred dollars.”
I sat upright.
He continued.
“I can get it together. You take it, tell your lawyer you’re satisfied, and leave my company out of this.”
I stared at my notebook on the coffee table.
Forty-six thousand dollars.
Fifteen percent.
Six thousand nine hundred.
It was exactly the amount left if Donnie had kept fifteen percent of the transfers.
I closed my eyes.
“Donnie.”
He waited.
“Why that amount?”
Silence.
Then he said, “It’s what I can afford.”
I looked toward the Christmas card Benton had made me.