I thought about the $312 custodial account.
I thought about my braces.
I thought about the wedding.
The vineyard venue had cost $14,000.
Inez had new things.
There had been a nursery.
There was a leased white Audi.
And somehow the person whose mother had worked her whole life to leave survivor benefits behind had been sleeping beside a water heater.
Inez tried to speak.
Ezra stopped her.
He told her the card in her purse had been used dozens of times on the same account. He told her she would need her own lawyer by morning rather than relying on her husband’s.
That was when I realized something I had not understood before.
This had never been about whether my father loved me.
Love was too easy to argue about.
There were records.
There were signatures.
There were numbers.
There were dates.
There were things that existed whether he admitted them or not.
My father looked toward me.
“Will I see her again?”
Holt answered quietly.