“Of course.”
“Do you remember the money I gave Daniel for the house?”
Silence.
Then his tone changed.
“Yes.”
“Was it a gift?”
“No.”
Relief went through me so quickly I nearly laughed.
“You’re certain?”
“I’m an accountant, Maggie. Certainty is the only interesting thing about me.”
I sat down.
“Do you have anything in writing?”
“I might.”
“Might?”
“I closed the office. Most records were digitized.”
My pulse began pounding.
“Peter, Daniel says there was paperwork.”
“There was.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t want to answer from memory.”
I stared out the window at palm trees moving softly in the evening wind.
“When can you check?”
“Now.”
I heard a chair scrape.
Then footsteps.
A door opening.
Keys.
Peter had always been like that.
If something could be answered, he saw no reason to leave it unanswered.
He returned several minutes later.
“I have the file.”
My mouth went dry.
“And?”
“Interesting.”
I almost laughed from nerves.
“Peter, at my age, interesting is not a reassuring word.”
“Your eighty-five thousand dollars was documented as a family loan.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank God.”
“But there’s more.”
I opened them again.
“What?”
“You didn’t loan it only to Daniel.”
