Chapter 3 - My Brother Called The Uncle We Were Told Never To Trust
The last time I had seen Owen Carter, I was ten.
He and my father were shouting in our kitchen.
Mom stood between them.
Ryan watched from the stairs.
Owen pointed at Margaret and said:
“You keep telling those kids the version that makes you safest.”
Mom slapped him.
Dad shoved Owen out the door.
Two months later, the store burned.
Within a year, Owen was gone from our lives.
Margaret’s explanation was simple.
“Owen wanted part of the business. When he didn’t get it, he turned on us.”
I believed that too.
At ten, adults can hand you almost any story if everybody repeats it with the same face.
Now Owen sat in a hospital examination room while I stood near the door.
His forearm was bandaged.
Nothing major.
He looked at me for a long time.
“You look like Peter.”
I hated hearing Dad’s name from him.
“Ryan called you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Owen glanced toward the hallway.
“Ask Ryan.”
“I’m asking you.”
He smiled faintly.
“You still do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn questions into orders.”
“I had good teachers.”
That removed the smile.
“What did Ryan want?”
Owen looked down.
“He wanted to know whether he started the first fire.”
I stared.
“He believes he did.”
“Yes.”
“So do you?”
“No.”
That answer came too quickly.
“What changed?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“Not enough.”
He nodded.
Fair.
Then:
“When the fire happened, Ryan was thirteen. He was in the stockroom after he’d been told not to go back there.”
I knew that much.
“He thought he caused it because something failed shortly after he touched the breaker panel.”
“Stop.”
Owen looked at me.
“I don't need technical details.”
“Good, because I don't have useful ones.”
He continued.
“Your father knew the wiring had been flagged for repair.”
I frowned.
“Mom always said Dad ignored that.”
“He did.”
That surprised me.
Owen wasn't trying to make Peter a saint.
“He delayed repairs.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Margaret signed the document keeping the store open through the weekend.”
My stomach tightened.
“What document?”
“A closure recommendation.”
“Why would Mom sign?”
“She ran the business too.”
I thought of Margaret’s version.
Dad made decisions.
Dad controlled the store.
Dad took risks.
Mom survived the aftermath.
Apparently she had occupied more space in the original story.
“Is that the signature Lily heard about?”
“Yes.”
“Why hide it from me?”
Owen stared at the floor.
“Because your father took responsibility.”
“For her?”
“For both of them.”
“Both?”
“Peter delayed the repair. Margaret refused to close.”
“And Ryan?”
Owen looked at me.
“That’s what Ryan wanted to know.”
“Did he cause the fire?”
“I told him no.”
“Can you prove that?”
“I could once.”
Could.
Past tense.
“What happened to the proof?”
Owen’s jaw tightened.
“Your mother.”
Of course.
Before I could ask, the door opened.
Ryan stepped in.
No officer with him now.
No mother.
He looked wrecked.
“Claire.”
I turned.
“Why did you bring Lily to the store?”
“I didn't know Mom was coming.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I had her for an hour.”
“You brought my eight-year-old daughter into a meeting with a man you thought might tell you you burned down our family business.”
Ryan flinched.
“When you say it like that—”
“It sounds like what you did.”
He looked at Owen.
“You told her?”
“Enough.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“Did you tell her about the report?”
I looked between them.
“What report?”
Owen did not answer.
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Ryan.”
He turned to me.
“The report that came two weeks after the fire.”
“What did it say?”
His eyes filled before he answered.
“That I didn't start it.”
I stared.
“Who saw it?”
Ryan looked toward the hallway.
Mom was standing outside the glass door.
Watching.
“Dad.”
May you like
Then:
“And her.”
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