Chapter 7 - The Aftermath At The Table
The silence that settled over the house was heavy, suffocating, and absolute. For several minutes, nobody moved. The distant hum of the refrigerator returned, accompanied by the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room.
Mom slowly walked back to the dining table, her hands trembling as she picked up the silver pie server she had dropped earlier. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the half-eaten slices of pie, the rumpled napkins, and the cold turkey resting on the platter. “I... I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Our Thanksgiving... it’s completely ruined.”
“No, Mom,” Paige sobbed, suddenly collapsing onto the bench and burying her face in her hands. The tears she had been fighting back poured out in violent, ragged gasps. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I brought him here. I bragged about him. I was so stupid... I was so desperate to show everyone that I had found someone successful, someone who had made it... and he was just using me. He was going to take everything I had.”
Dad walked over, his heavy, weathered hand resting gently on top of Paige’s head, just like he used to do when she scraped her knees on the asphalt as a little girl. “Shh. Stop that right now, Paige,” Dad said, his voice softer than I had heard it all night. “You didn't do anything wrong. Guys like that... they make a career out of studying people’s blind spots. They know exactly what words to say to make honest people trust them. You aren't stupid for having an open heart.”
Evan stepped over, sitting down beside Paige and pulling a clean linen handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her. “Dad’s right, Paige. In my line of work, I see Fortune 500 CEOs and seasoned investment bankers fall for guys like Graham Vance every single week. They’re sociopaths. They don’t feel shame, they don’t feel guilt, and they spend every waking hour perfecting their performance. The only thing that matters is that Zach caught him before you signed any promissory notes or transferred that bridge loan.”
Paige lifted her head, her mascara running down her flushed cheeks. She looked across the table at me, her eyes filled with an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame.
“Zach...” she choked out. “I called you the family computer guy. I laughed when he made fun of your routers. I let him treat you like you were beneath us... and all the while, you were the only one who actually had the power to protect me. I am so sorry. I don’t even know how you can stand to look at me right now.”
I pushed my plate aside, stood up from my chair, and walked around the table to where she was sitting. I leaned down and wrapped my arms around my sister, holding her tight while she wept against my shoulder.
“Hey,” I murmured softly. “You’re my sister, Paige. You’ve always been my sister. You think I care about some slick con artist making jokes about my flannel shirt? I’ve spent my entire adult life dealing with arrogant people who think cybersecurity is just setting up printers. Words don't bother me. But nobody comes into this house and tries to rob my family. Not on my watch.”
Karen smiled warmly from across the table, her eyes shining with quiet pride as she watched us. She stood up and walked over to Mom, gently taking the pie server from her trembling fingers.
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“Mrs. Thomas,” Karen said with a warm, comforting smile, “how about you and I put this turkey away, warm up the coffee, and cut fresh slices of that amazing pie? We’ve got a lot of things to be genuinely thankful for tonight. Graham Vance isn't getting another second of our evening.”
Mom looked at Karen, blinked away her tears, and let out a watery, relieved laugh. “You’re an angel, Karen. An absolute angel. Evan, grab the foil. Dad, open up that cooler of beer you’ve been saving. Let’s get this table cleared.”
