If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(73)

When neither of them said more, I let out an exasperated raspberry. “We have enough circumstantial evidence to convince the authorities to investigate. If they issue warrants, they might get access to information Stan can’t. It’s crazy to sit on our hands and let Lyle get away.” So much for being sensitive to my sister’s feelings.

“I said no!” My mother fisted both hands and beat them against her chair.

Amanda flinched. “Lyle doesn’t know I hired a PI, so he thinks he’s fooled me with that deed. He and Ebba aren’t rushing anywhere, so we have a little time. But I have to agree with Erin, Mom. Maybe it’s time to involve the police.”

Mom shook her head. “You said we could offer Lyle a deal first. One that gets me my money and you your house and sole custody.”

“An illegal deal,” I reminded them both.

Amanda’s face pinched as her gaze darted from me to Mom. Her fingers were turning white around the phone still in her hand. “Mom, even if I caught up to Lyle, he’d probably laugh in my face and try outrunning the law before he’d hand over anything to me.” Her free hand rubbed her forehead. It struck me then that this was—in my memory—the first time she’d ever defied our mom. “If he gets to Venezuela, we’ll have lost everything, and I’ll be in limbo for years trying to prove he abandoned me.”

“But the alternative is becoming the talk of the town. Poor Amanda Foster and her stupid mother, both duped by that con man!” Mom scowled. “Our reputations will be ruined. Even if he’s arrested, I’ll probably get very little money back, and you’ll lose your home and have no guarantee of custody once Lyle gets out of jail.”

“It’s hard to pretend life is A-okay when people ask me when Lyle’s coming home. ‘I’m not sure’ isn’t working so well anymore. Ebba’s coworkers suspect she was having an affair. Once people know Lyle and I are done and start putting together the timeline, gossip will spread. Playing dumb will make us both look stupider than the truth does.” Amanda tossed the phone aside and rubbed her breastbone.

“You’re not stupid. He played us all,” I said, harkening back to that cold February afternoon when I should’ve acted on my instincts when my radar had sensed the sex in the air, despite how Lyle and Ebba had played it off. But Amanda had been happily planning for the baby, never mentioning any problems, so I’d let it go.

“Talk about the divorce like we discussed—irreconcilable differences. But don’t mention the money,” Mom insisted before she pushed herself out of her chair and took her empty cup inside, mumbling something about Dodo.

Once she’d gone, I whirled on my sister. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Please don’t push me.” She gazed blankly at the yard before briefly closing her eyes to catch a breath.

One look at her belly and the stress etched on her face kept me silent. At least she’d started to see reason. Eventually she’d do the right thing. She always did. The funny part was the fact that I wanted to follow the rules for a change.

My sister’s pained stare broke me.

“Amanda, I’m sorry if I overstepped today. I got impatient, but I didn’t mean to upset you more.”

“It’s not your fault I’m upset.” It would be if she knew the whole truth. It’d be a relief to simply confess, but unburdening my conscience now seemed more selfish than helpful. Amanda turned to me, her face flushed. “I just—it kills me that Lyle’s sailing around with no remorse whatsoever. He never loved me.” Her voice cracked.

She rarely showed her pain to me—at least not this directly—and I desperately wished I could take it away. “He doesn’t love Ebba, either. He only loves himself.”

I held my breath then. The last time I’d made a remark of that ilk had been their first anniversary—the “paper” one. She’d had their wedding vows transcribed in calligraphy on large sheets of paper, which she’d framed, so I called to see how he’d liked it. When she described what sounded like a tepid reaction and then told me he’d given her a box of stationery—something that hadn’t taken much time or effort—I’d popped off a cutting remark, at which point she’d insinuated that I was jealous and then hung up on me.

Today she didn’t defend Lyle—a promising change. Instead she shrugged. “I’ll survive, but how will it affect Willa to have a dad who couldn’t care enough to stick around?”

Given our awesome father, I couldn’t imagine that. I wondered, however, if Amanda was also projecting a bit of her own feelings of rejection, too. Our father had never neglected her, but she’d yearned for a relationship with him that never fully formed because they were such different people. Sensing a need for a lighter topic, I said, “Let’s take things one day at a time. Want some help baking now that Mom’s pissed off at us both?”

She flashed a half-hearted smile. “No offense, but when’s the last time you used an oven?”

“Fair enough. Go buy out the counter at Sugar Momma’s and save yourself the effort. I think you need to rest, Amanda. You’ve lost your glow.”

“Hard to glow when my life is falling apart.” Amanda tucked a section of loose hair behind her ear. “How about we talk about you instead. Have you heard from Eli?”