Grant looked equally shocked.
Tyler’s mouth opened.
Nicole said:
“Please.”
Evelyn continued more gently:
“It isn't spending money, sweetheart.”
“It was created for education, healthcare, meaningful enrichment, travel connected to you, and long-term support.”
Amara looked at her mother.
“How much is left?”
Nicole sat down.
Evelyn paused.
“Enough that we are not having that conversation over speakerphone.”
Wrong answer.
Amara heard it.
“Grandma.”
“Amara.”
“How much?”
“About two hundred ninety-eight thousand, based on the last statement I received.”
Amara did the arithmetic.
She was thirteen.
Not an accountant.
Still.
“That’s more than a hundred thousand gone.”
Nicole stood.
“Most of that was used appropriately.”
Evelyn said:
“That is exactly what we’re about to determine.”
Grant stared.
“What else did you use it for?”
Nicole shook her head.
“Not in front of the kids.”
Amara laughed.
“Which kids?”
Her mother stopped.
Amara pointed toward herself.
“The one whose money it is?”
Tyler stood.
“Amara.”
She turned.
His face was pale.
“I didn't know.”
Amara looked at him.
For one horrible second, resentment tried to attach itself to the easiest person in the room.
Tyler.
The boy with the coat.
The suitcase.
The trip.
She could feel how simple it would be.
Then she remembered his confusion when he walked through the door.
He had thought she wanted to stay.
“I know.”
Tyler’s eyes filled anyway.
Evelyn said:
“Amara, I’m coming over.”
“You're forty minutes away.”
“Then I’ll be there in thirty-eight.”
Despite everything, Amara almost smiled.
Nicole whispered:
“Evelyn, we can handle this.”
“No.”
The older woman’s voice sharpened.
“You had the chance to handle it.”
“Do not leave for the airport.”
“I am also calling Martin Hale.”
Nicole went still.
Grant frowned.
“Who?”
“The trust attorney.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Tyler slowly removed his gloves.
He placed them on his suitcase.
“I’m not going.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Tyler.”
“No.”
“You don't need to punish yourself.”
“I'm not.”
He looked toward Nicole.
“I don't want Amara’s dead dad paying for my vacation.”
Nicole flinched as if he had slapped her.
“Do not say it like that.”
“How should I say it?”
“He created the trust for her wellbeing.”
Tyler stared.
“She isn't even going.”
Nicole started crying harder.
Grant turned toward his son.
“Go upstairs.”
Tyler shook his head.
“No.”
“Ty.”
“I want to hear.”
“This is adult financial stuff.”
Tyler looked toward Amara.
“She had to hear when you told her she wasn't family enough to go.”
Grant’s face changed.
Amara stared at Tyler.
He immediately looked embarrassed by his own courage.
“Sorry.”
“Don't be,” she whispered.
Grant sat on the bottom stair.
For the first time that morning, he no longer looked like the person controlling anything.
Nicole stood near the dining-room entrance.
Amara's suitcase remained between them.
A black rectangle at the center of the foyer.
Grant looked up at Nicole.
“How much of this did you know was wrong?”
She stared.
“That’s not fair.”
His expression hardened.
“It is the first fair question I’ve asked today.”