Chapter 12 - WHAT EACH OF THEM WAS PROTECTING
The conference took place in a law office overlooking downtown Phoenix.
Irene’s protective order had been modified for the meeting under strict conditions.
No direct contact outside the conference.
Attorneys present.
Separate arrival times.
Margaret sat at one end of the table.
Carla sat beside her.
Austin sat across from them.
Irene chose the chair nearest the door.
Margaret looked older than she had six weeks earlier.
Carla looked angry enough to hide that she was frightened.
Her attorney began.
Carla interrupted him.
“I want Irene to know why we went there.”
Irene said, “You went there because you wanted what was in the safe.”
“We wanted the January file.”
“You also put our cash in a suitcase.”
Carla looked down.
“Yes.”
Margaret turned toward her.
“Carla.”
“No, Mom.”
For the first time, Carla sounded tired rather than aggressive.
“Stop fixing it.”
She looked at Irene.
“My payroll was due. I had forty-eight hundred dollars in the operating account. When the safe opened and I saw cash, I took it.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know. Thirty-something thousand.”
“Plus the gold.”
Carla swallowed.
“Yes.”
There was no noble explanation for that part.
Desperation had crossed into theft the moment she started filling the suitcase.
Margaret said, “I told her not to take the coins.”
Carla laughed bitterly.
“You were pulling a pregnant woman across the floor.”
Margaret’s mouth closed.
Austin stared at his sister.
“Why the file?”
Carla answered.
“Mom told me Irene was going to tell the bank I stole seven hundred thousand dollars.”
“You received it,” Irene said.
“I did. I also thought Mom had authority.”
Margaret cut in.
“I did have authority.”
“No,” Austin said. “You had access.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed.
“I spent thirty-five years building that company with your father.”
“And that made you think company money belonged to us?”
“It belonged to the family.”
“There,” Irene said quietly.
Margaret looked at her.
“That’s the whole thing.”
Irene did not raise her voice.
“You think those words mean the same thing.”
Margaret leaned back.
“You walked into a company you didn’t build and started judging how we survived.”
“I found false invoices.”
“I kept Carla’s employees working.”
“You used money that wasn’t yours to give.”
“I protected my daughter.”
Carla suddenly pushed her chair away from the table.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Carla’s eyes were wet.
“You protected yourself.”
Margaret stiffened.
Carla continued.
“You guaranteed my loans because Dad told you not to. He said my expansion was too fast. You wanted to prove he was wrong. Then he died and I started failing, and if I failed, you had to admit he was right.”
Margaret’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
The financial motive had always been tangled with grief and pride.
Grant’s death had removed the one person Margaret could still argue with.
Saving Carla’s company became her final argument with a dead husband.
Austin asked his sister, “Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?”
Carla wiped her face angrily.
“Because I was thirty-two years old and my mother was still calling you when I screwed up.”
Margaret said, “I was helping you.”
“You were keeping me dependent.”
The attorneys did not interrupt.
For several seconds, nobody did.
Then Margaret turned to Irene.
“You could have come to me.”
“I did.”
“You came with accusations.”
“I came with numbers.”
Margaret looked toward Austin.
“I was trying to keep this family intact.”
Austin’s reply was quiet.
“You nearly destroyed mine.”
Margaret stood.
Her attorney reached for her arm but stopped.
She looked at Irene.
For the first time, Irene saw regret trying to get past pride.
It did not make it.
Margaret picked up her handbag.
“I’m not confessing to stealing from my own company.”
She left.
Carla remained seated.
Then she pushed a portable drive across the table toward Elaine’s counsel.
“My accounting export,” she said.
Her attorney closed his eyes.
May you like
Carla looked at Austin.
“If we’re going to lose everything, I’m done losing it for Mom’s version of what happened.”
