Chapter 4 - The Kitchen Reckoning
When I pushed through the front door of my childhood home, the sound of screaming was already vibrating through the hallway.
Paige stood in the center of the kitchen, wearing a camel-hair coat, waving the blue court documents like a flag of war.
"Marcus is lying! It was an investment! Drew is a business partner!" Paige shrieked, her voice bouncing off the ceramic tile. "Mom, tell Dad to call his union lawyer! They can't freeze my personal accounts! I have rent due on Friday!"
My mother sat at the laminate kitchen table, her face buried in a damp dishtowel, her shoulders shaking violently with hysterical sobs.
My father stood by the counter, holding a yellowed legal pad, his face as pale as parchment.
"An investment, Paige?" I announced, stepping through the kitchen archway, my heavy boots thudding against the floor.
Paige snapped her head around, her eyes flaring with venomous hatred. "What are you doing here? Get out! This is a family matter!"
"I am this family's accountant, Paige," I said, walking directly to the kitchen table. "And more importantly, I’m the son who didn't let you rob our father blind."
"Jake, stop it!" my mother wept, looking up from her towel, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. "Don't kick your sister while she's down! She made a financial mistake! We have to help her fix it!"
"A financial mistake?" I slammed my hand down on the table, making the salt shakers jump. "She took forty thousand dollars from Dad’s equity line and wired it to Drew Miller’s LLC, Mom! That isn't a mistake! That’s grand larceny!"
Paige backed away toward the refrigerator, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. "Marcus had millions in his 401(k)! I was entitled to that money! I gave him six years of my life!"
"You gave him six years of entitlement while he paid your bills!" I fired back, stepping into her space until she was forced to look me in the eye. "And when you got bored, you took a lover, stole his money, and came crying to an old man on a fixed pension to bail you out!"
"He's my father!" she screamed. "He's supposed to protect me!"
"And who protects him from you?" I pointed at our father, whose hands were trembling so violently he had to lean against the microwave. "Look at him, Paige! He’s sixty-four years old! He has arthritis in both hips! He was supposed to retire in May, and now he owes forty thousand dollars on a home equity loan because you wanted to play business owner with a married man!"
Paige looked at Dad, but there was no remorse in her eyes.
There was only the frantic, cornered panic of a spoiled child whose credit card had finally been declined.
"Dad," Paige whimpered, her voice dropping into that sweet, manipulative tone she had used since she was six years old. "You know I’ll pay you back once the wine bar opens. Drew has investors coming in from Washington next month..."
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Dad slowly raised his head, looking at his daughter as if he were seeing her true face for the very first time in his life.
"Paige," Dad whispered, his voice cracking like dry stone. "There are no investors. Marcus’s lawyer attached Drew’s bank accounts this morning. Drew fled the state last night."
