Chapter 2 - I Stopped the Music
The ballroom was packed.
At least forty people.
Business owners. Neighbors. Local socialites.
People I vaguely recognized from photographs Mother had sent me.
A live pianist played near the windows.
Prudence rushed behind me.
“Daniel, stop!”
I kept walking.
Someone noticed me.
Then another person.
Conversation began dying across the room.
Mother entered behind us.
“Everyone, please continue enjoying yourselves.”
I walked directly to the sound system.
And switched it off.
Silence fell.
A man holding champagne frowned.
“Gertrude?”
I faced the room.
“My name is Daniel Carter.”
A few people smiled uncertainly.
Mother hurried toward me.
“My son has just returned from overseas. Obviously, he’s exhausted—”
“I’ve been in Saudi Arabia for five years.”
I pointed toward the rear hallway.
“While I was there, I sent money home every month.”
“Daniel!”
I ignored her.
“I paid for this house.”
Guests began exchanging looks.
Prudence whispered, “You’re humiliating us.”
I turned toward her.
“No. I haven’t started yet.”
Then Sarah appeared.
Jamie held her hand.
The room changed.
People stared at her torn clothing.
At Jamie’s bare feet.
At the dirt on their arms.
One woman covered her mouth.
Mother immediately stepped forward.
“Sarah has been having some difficulties.”
Sarah stopped.
I could feel her trying to disappear.
I walked beside her.
“Tell them where you sleep.”
She looked at me.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Mother snapped, “Daniel, enough!”
Sarah jumped.
I saw it.
So did several guests.
I turned toward Mother.
“Don’t raise your voice at my wife.”
For once, she listened.
Sarah took a shaky breath.
“In the storage room behind the service kitchen.”
Someone whispered, “What?”
“For how long?” I asked.
Sarah lowered her eyes.
“Almost three years.”
The room erupted in murmurs.
Prudence shook her head.
“She’s lying.”
Jamie suddenly spoke.
“We sleep there.”
Everyone went silent again.
Prudence looked at him.
“Jamie—”
“And Grandma locks the kitchen sometimes.”
Mother’s expression collapsed.
Sarah pulled him closer.
“Jamie, sweetheart—”
“When Mommy asks for food, Aunt Prudence says we have to wait until the guests leave.”
A champagne glass landed softly on a table.
Then one of Mother’s closest friends, Margaret Wilson, stepped forward.
“Gertrude, is that true?”
Mother’s face hardened.
“This is a complicated domestic situation.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
I took out my phone.
“I want everyone gone.”
Prudence stared at me.
“You can’t throw out my guests!”
“They’re standing inside a house purchased with my money while my son eats spoiled rice.”
Nobody needed to be told twice.
People began collecting coats.
Mother stood perfectly still while her social world walked past her.
Nobody hugged her goodbye.
Nobody thanked her for the party.
Margaret stopped beside Sarah.
“I’m sorry.”
Sarah nodded silently.
Within ten minutes, the ballroom was empty.
The food remained.
Roasted chicken.
Steak.
Potatoes.
Desserts.
More food than Sarah and Jamie had probably seen in months.
Jamie stared at the buffet.
“Daddy?”
I looked down.
“Can we eat that?”
I pulled out a chair.
“You can eat anything in this house.”
Sarah began crying.
Quietly.
I sat Jamie down and filled a plate.
Chicken.
Potatoes.
Vegetables.
Bread.
He immediately grabbed the chicken.
Then stopped.
He looked toward Prudence.
“Is it okay?”
I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Jamie, look at me.”
He did.
“You will never ask permission to eat again.”
His lower lip trembled.
I had to turn away for a moment.
Then my phone connected.
“International account services. How may I help you?”
Mother’s eyes narrowed.
I put the call on speaker.
“My name is Daniel Carter. I need a complete transaction history for every transfer made from my overseas account during the past five years.”
Mother walked toward me.
“You’re tired. We’ll discuss finances tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“I want to know where my money went.”
Sarah whispered, “There’s something else.”
I turned.
She disappeared into the back hallway.
When she returned, she carried a plastic grocery bag.
Inside were dozens of envelopes.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
Mine.
Letters I had mailed home.
Unopened.
Returned.
Hidden.
Sarah placed them on the table.
“I found these in your mother’s closet six months ago.”
I picked one up.
FOR SARAH.
Another.
FOR JAMIE’S THIRD BIRTHDAY.
Another.
MY LOVE, I MISS YOU.
My hands began shaking.
Mother finally lost her composure.
“You don’t understand what that woman was doing to this family!”
I slammed the letters onto the table.
“What was she doing?”
“She was taking you away from us!”
I stared at her.
“I married her.”
“You abandoned your mother!”
“I went overseas to support all of you!”
Prudence folded her arms.
“And we managed things while you were gone.”
“With my money.”
“We deserved something too!”
That was the first honest sentence either of them had spoken.
I looked at Prudence.
“What did you buy?”
She went quiet.
“Cars?”
Nothing.
“Clothes?”
Nothing.
“Trips?”
Mother intervened.
“We invested.”
“In what?”
Silence.
I looked around the mansion.
Then at the jewelry around Prudence’s neck.
And finally at Mother.
“I’m going to find every dollar.”
For the first time, she looked genuinely afraid.
“You wouldn’t investigate your own family.”
May you like
I glanced toward Sarah and Jamie.
“My family is sitting at that table.”
