The ocean at night is loud in a way that fills your body. Waves hit rock below the bluff with a hollow boom and a hiss afterward, like the sea reconsidering something. The wind smelled sharp and clean. I sat there until my tea went cold and my phone buzzed again.
Rebecca.
I let it ring out. Then she texted.Please. I know you hate me. But he told me things about your dad, and if I were you, I’d want to hear them.
That did it.
I typed one line.
Tomorrow. 11 a.m. Carmel Coffee Roasters. Come alone.
Her reply came instantly.
I will.
I barely slept.
At ten fifty-five the next morning, I walked into the coffee shop and saw her immediately.
Without the hair and makeup and the borrowed confidence, she looked younger. Not innocent—life had already polished that possibility out of her—but younger. Tired. Her eyes were swollen. She wore a black turtleneck and jeans and no crystals. Good.
She stood when I approached, then sat back down when she realized I wasn’t going to hug her, throw coffee at her, or perform any of the scenes she probably feared and deserved.
I took the chair opposite hers.
The place smelled like espresso and cinnamon scones. Milk steamed behind the counter with little angry screams. A couple in bike helmets argued over almond milk near the pastry case. Normal life everywhere. It felt obscene.
“You have five minutes,” I said.
She flinched. “Okay.”
She slid a manila envelope across the table.
I didn’t touch it yet. “Start talking.”
Her fingers worried at the cardboard sleeve of her coffee cup. “I didn’t know about the money.”
I said nothing.
“I know that sounds stupid.”
“It sounds irrelevant.”
She winced. Fair enough.
“He told me you were unhappy,” she said. “That your marriage was dead, that you stayed because it was easier and because your father controlled everything. He said the house was basically his, the accounts were his, that once the divorce happened you’d both be fine because there was more than enough to go around.”
“And you believed him.”
She looked up at me. “Yes.”
There was no point pretending I found her sympathetic. But I did find her useful.
“When did it start?”
She hesitated. “About eighteen months ago.”
I actually felt the floor tilt a little. “At the funeral you said almost a year.”
“That’s what he told me to say if anyone ever asked.”
Of course.