Chapter 7 - SKYLAR'S NOTEBOOK
Skylar was coloring in Dana's conference room when we returned from Vanessa's office.
She had drawn a row of small houses across the bottom of a page.
Every house had a different colored door.
None of them looked like ours.
I sat beside her.
"Ready to go?"
She nodded.
Then she looked at Dana.
"Can I tell Mom something here?"
Dana glanced at me.
"Of course."
Skylar put down the marker.
"But I don't want Dad to know I told."
I felt my chest tighten.
"You can tell me anything."
"Dad says that too."
The sentence stopped me.
I waited.
Skylar opened her backpack.
She pulled out a small purple notebook with a silver elastic band.
I had bought it for her at the school book fair in February.
I thought she used it for drawings.
She placed it in front of me.
"I wrote stuff down because sometimes Grandma says I remember wrong."
I stared at the notebook.
Dana became very still.
"What kind of stuff?" I asked.
"Things people said."
"Why?"
Skylar shrugged.
"Because Dad said I make stories when I get upset."
I had to look away for a moment.
The same method Brandon used on me had reached our daughter.
Different words.
Same purpose.
You forgot.
You imagined it.
You are too emotional.
Skylar pushed the notebook closer.
"You can read it."
I opened the first page.
FEB 19 - GRANDMA OPENED MOM'S BANK LETTER.
Underneath, in Skylar's careful handwriting, she had written:
SHE SAID DON'T TELL MOM BECAUSE MOM GETS CRAZY ABOUT MONEY.
The next entry was from February twenty-sixth.
DAD TOOK A PICTURE OF MOM'S CARD FRONT AND BACK.
March fourth.
AUNT HAILEY ASKED ME MOM'S FIRST PET NAME.
March ninth.
GRANDMA SAID MOM'S PAYCHECK IS FAMILY MONEY BUT DAD'S MONEY IS HIS BECAUSE HE HAS RESPONSIBILITIES.
I closed my eyes.
Dana sat across from us.
She did not touch the notebook.
"Skylar," she said gently, "did anyone tell you to write these things down?"
"No."
"Did your mom know?"
Skylar shook her head.
"Why did you start?"
Skylar looked at me.
"Because I got in trouble for telling Mom that Grandma took her mail."
"Who got you in trouble?"
"Dad."
I kept my voice steady.
"What did he do?"
"He took my tablet for a week."
I remembered that week.
Brandon told me Skylar had been disrespectful to Gertrude.
I had backed his punishment because I believed him.
The shame burned worse than anger.
"Sweetheart, I am sorry."
Skylar's eyes filled.
"I wasn't lying."
"I know."
"You said I had to respect Grandma."
"I was wrong."
She stared at me as if adults were not supposed to say those words.
"I should have asked more questions."
Skylar nodded slowly.
Then she pointed at the notebook.
"There's more."
I opened it again.
April seventeenth.
DAD AND GRANDMA ARGUED ABOUT GRANDPA'S MONEY.
I looked at Dana.
She leaned forward.
Under the date, Skylar had written two quotes.
DAD: YOU SAID THERE WOULD BE ENOUGH LEFT.
GRANDMA: THERE WAS UNTIL YOU STARTED LOSING IT.
My pulse quickened.
Derek had told me to ask Brandon what happened to his father's estate.
I turned the page.
April eighteenth.
GRANDMA SAID CHARLOTTE'S HOUSE WILL FIX IT.
I stared at the sentence.
"Where did you hear this?"
"In the kitchen."
"Were they talking to you?"
"No. I was on the stairs."
"Do you remember anything else?"
Skylar thought.
"Dad said, 'She will never sign that much.'"
Dana and I exchanged a look.
"What did Grandma say?"
Skylar's voice dropped.
"She said, 'Then stop asking.'"
A cold wave moved through me.
Stop asking.
Not persuade me.
Not explain the plan.
Stop asking.
I turned to the next entry.
May fifteenth.
AUNT HAILEY WORE MOM'S BLUE JACKET AND MADE A VIDEO IN GRANDMA'S ROOM.
I gripped the notebook.
"Did you see the video?"
"No."
"What did you see?"
"Aunt Hailey had your jacket and your license. Grandma told me to go downstairs."
"Was Dad there?"
"He came in after."
May eighteenth.
DAD SAID THE FACE CHECK PASSED.
My throat tightened.
Dana exhaled slowly.
The lender's first video verification had been May eighteenth.
Skylar had documented it without knowing what it meant.
I continued.
June sixth.
GRANDMA HAD A RED BOOK AND TOLD AUNT HAILEY NOT TO LEAVE IT OUT.
I looked up.
"What red book?"
Skylar shrugged.
"A red notebook. Bigger than mine."
"Did you see where she put it?"
Skylar nodded.
My heartbeat accelerated.
"Where?"
"In the old blue suitcase in the garage."
I knew the suitcase.
It had belonged to Brandon's father.
Gertrude refused to throw it away because she said it contained sentimental things.
The garage had been crowded with her storage since she moved in.
"Is it still there?"
Skylar shook her head.
"Dad moved it."
"When?"
She flipped pages.
July twenty-second.
DAD PUT GRANDPA'S BLUE SUITCASE IN UNCLE DEREK'S TRUCK.
Dana leaned back.
"Derek may know where the ledger is."
I kept reading.
July twenty-ninth.
GRANDMA SAID IF MOM FINDS THE NUMBERS, WE ALL LOSE THE HOUSE.
August fourth.
DAD SAID NOT IF THE BIG LOAN CLOSES FIRST.
My hands trembled.
They had been racing me.
Every time I disputed an inquiry or canceled a transfer, they were adjusting.
Every time I stayed quiet, they mistook caution for ignorance.
The final page with writing was dated the night before.
Skylar had written it in darker pencil.
GRANDMA SAID MOM DOESN'T DESERVE SEAFOOD BECAUSE SHE ONLY PAYS FOR THINGS AND DOESN'T TAKE CARE OF FAMILY.
Underneath was another line.
DAD LAUGHED.
I closed the notebook.
I could no longer separate the financial betrayal from the personal one.
They were the same belief expressed in different ways.
My income belonged to them.
My credit belonged to them.
My home belonged to them.
My daughter was expected to understand her place.
And I was expected to fund it all without asking questions.
Dana looked at Skylar.
"This notebook may be important. Would you be comfortable if your mom made a copy and kept the original somewhere safe?"
Skylar nodded.
"Can I keep writing in a new one?"
"Yes," I said.
"But not because you need to prove yourself to us."
She looked confused.
"Then why?"
"Because writing can help you remember how you felt."
I touched the cover.
"But I believe you without a notebook."
Her lower lip trembled.
She leaned into me.
I held her while Dana quietly left the room.
That evening, after Skylar fell asleep at the hotel, Dana called Derek from her office.
He answered on the third try.
"I told you I need a lawyer."
"Then get one," Dana said.
"But I have one narrow question."
"What?"
"Where is the blue suitcase you took from Brandon's garage on July twenty-second?"
Silence.
Long silence.
"How do you know about that?"
"Where is it?"
Derek breathed into the phone.
"I gave it back."
"To whom?"
"Gertrude."
"When?"
"Three days later."
"Where?"
"Her bank."
Dana's eyes narrowed.
"Which bank?"
Derek gave the name.
It was the same bank where Gertrude had maintained accounts for decades.
"Why at the bank?"
"She said she was putting the ledger somewhere Charlotte could never get it."
My skin prickled.
"Safe deposit box," I said.
Derek heard me.
"Probably."
"Was the ledger in the suitcase?"
"I saw it when the zipper broke."
"What was in it?"
"Columns of names and amounts."
"Whose names?"
"I only saw one page."
"Whose?"
He hesitated.
Then he said, "Your name was not the first one."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
May you like
Derek lowered his voice.
"Charlotte, I don't think you were the first person they did this to."
