Chapter 2 - The Words a Child Remembered
We left through the kitchen because Oliver couldn't stand the guests looking at him.
My sister, Rebecca, found a clean towel and gently wiped frosting from his cheeks while the catering staff pretended not to listen.
"Did she hurt you?" I asked.
Oliver shook his head, then looked at the floor.
"She said I'm not supposed to tell."
"You can always tell me," I said. "Even if a grown-up says not to."
He pressed his forehead against my neck.
"Yesterday she was on the phone with the man with the shiny shoes. She said, 'After the wedding, Daniel signs and the boy goes away.'"
I felt the warmth drain out of me.
For six months, Celeste had insisted that Oliver needed an expensive residential program to help him adjust after losing his mother. Every time I refused, she called it evidence I couldn't make hard decisions.
His mother, Hannah, had died of cancer two years earlier. Oliver still asked whether the stars were windows in heaven.
"Who was the man?" I asked.
"Grandpa Miles. He said my name was on the paper."
Rebecca gave me a look that said she had warned me about this.
My phone began to ring. Celeste.
I declined it. Then came a text.
YOU CANNOT HUMILIATE ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE AND EXPECT TO KEEP THE HOUSE.
The house had belonged to Hannah and me long before Celeste appeared.
Rebecca saw my expression.
"Daniel. What did you let her sign?"
"Nothing concerning Oliver."
"Are you sure?"
I thought about the enormous stack of wedding vendor forms she'd asked me to initial while I was exhausted after work.
I had trusted her with a digital copy of my signature for seating cards and charitable pledges.
At midnight, back in our kitchen, I opened the family office account I almost never checked.
There was an unfamiliar appointment on Monday's calendar.
May you like
TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION — OLIVER MERCER FAMILY TRUST.
Under the attendee list, someone had entered my name as confirmed.
