The money took 8 weeks to fully transfer. In the meantime, Whitmore’s office arranged for an advance enough to rent an apartment, buy furniture, replace the clothes I’d left behind when I fled the foreclosed house. I found a place in Durham, not far from the university, a one-bedroom with good light and neighbors who minded their own business. I got a job at a veterinary clinic, different from the old one, but close enough. Dr. Patel, who owned it, was patient and kind and didn’t ask questions about why a 33-year-old woman was starting over with almost nothing on her resume.
I didn’t tell anyone about the inheritance. Not yet. The first person who reached out was my mother. She called on a Sunday 4 weeks after I’d left the shelter. I let it go to voicemail. She called again the next day and the next. Finally, I answered. Where have you been? She demanded. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. I moved. Moved where? Why didn’t you tell me? You said I couldn’t stay with you, so I figured out something else.
There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was different, softer almost. Maggie, I’ve been worried about you. I was harsh on the phone that day. I know that. It was the shock of everything. I didn’t mean it. You said I was dumb. You said I was like, “Dad, I was upset. Karine had just. She stopped herself. Look, come home. We can talk about this properly. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” I’m not alone. What does that mean? Is there someone? It means I’m fine, Mom, which is more than you bothered to check on for the last 2 months. That’s not fair, isn’t it?
Silence on the line. I could picture her in the living room surrounded by all those Richardson antiques, trying to figure out how to spin this conversation in her favor. What do you want me to say, Margaret? I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to tell me why you lied about Dad.
The silence stretched longer this time. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really? Because a lawyer named George Whitmore says otherwise. He says dad didn’t leave us. He says you took full custody and got a restraining order. He says dad spent 20 years trying to contact us and you sent every letter back. I heard her intake of breath. Sharp. Involuntary. Who have you been talking to? The executive of dad’s estate. He died 3 years ago. Left everything to me. The line went dead. She’d hung up.
Karine called 2 days later. I didn’t answer, but she left a voicemail. Her voice was the same as always, light, musical, like she was doing you a favor by talking to you. Maggie. Hi, it’s me. Mom told me you’ve been going through some things. I know we haven’t talked since. Well, since everything, but I want you to know I’m not angry. Whatever happened with Nathan, we can get past it. We’re family. Call me back, okay? I want to help. I played the message three times. Then I deleted it.
