Chapter 7 - MOM HAD TO ADMIT SHE CHOSE THE EASIER STORY
Mom invited me inside.
I refused.
Not dramatically.
“I’m not doing this over Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Ryan.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew some things.”
She looked down.
That mattered.
I did not want one new revelation to turn everyone else into innocent people standing around Steve’s deception.
Mom knew I had tried calling.
She chose not to answer.
Jenna knew I asked whether I was invited.
She chose not to get a clear answer.
Kyle received financial screenshots.
He chose not to read them carefully because he “didn’t want to be involved.”
Those decisions were understandable.
Still decisions.
Mom came down the steps.
“I thought you were angry at me.”
“Why?”
“Steve said you thought I let him take money.”
“I never said that.”
“I know now.”
“But you didn’t ask.”
She started crying.
For most of my life, that would have made me retreat immediately.
Apologize for being too hard.
Tell her none of it mattered.
I didn’t.
“You could have called me.”
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of another fight.”
That was more honest.
After Dad died, Mom became terrified of conflict.
If two people argued, she withdrew from both.
Steve understood that.
He used it.
“He told me you wanted to manage everything.”
“I wanted to know where fourteen thousand dollars went.”
“I didn’t know about that.”
“I believe you.”
She looked at me.
“Then why are you still angry?”
“Because you believed the version of me that required the least work from you.”
Her face crumpled.
“That’s not fair.”
“It is.”
Jenna stepped outside.
“Ryan, we all screwed up.”
I looked at her.
“You asked me for the pie.”
“I know.”
“You couldn’t ask Mom whether I could sit at the table.”
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
Kyle joined us.
“I didn’t understand the transfers.”
“You didn’t try.”
“No.”
For once, nobody defended themselves.
That mattered more than perfect apologies.
Steve remained near the front door.
Then finally said:
“I was going to repay it.”
Emily turned on him.
“Dad, stop.”
He looked at his daughter.
She was crying now.
“You lied to me too.”
Steve went quiet.
That seemed to reach him in a way my anger never had.
I looked at Mom.
“I’m leaving.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m not coming inside tonight.”
“Can we talk tomorrow?”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
Then I looked at Steve.
“Without him.”
Mom hesitated.
That tiny hesitation told me how much work remained.
Then she nodded.
“Without him.”
I left.
The pie stayed.
May you like
I regretted that later.
It was a good pie.
