The Silent Sister(7)

“I do,” I said.

Suzanne turned to her notes. “I have here that your father had about two hundred thousand in savings at the time he drew up the will. So that, plus the insurance, plus the value of his house and the park, which Jeannie can help you determine, will be split between Daniel’s trust and yourself.”

The word wow crossed my mind, but it felt wrong to say it. I had six thousand dollars in my savings account at that very moment. I made next to nothing as a school counselor and I thought I was doing pretty well to have put away that much.

“A word of advice is not to go crazy spending,” Suzanne said. “Sock it away. Find a good financial advisor. I can refer you to someone here, but you’d probably prefer someone in Durham. Just be careful with the money and let it grow. Maybe buy a house of your own. Get out of the tiny apartment. Hopefully this will help your brother out, too. How is he doing?”

“You know him?” I asked, not really surprised. Nearly everyone in New Bern knew Danny to one extent or another. He elicited a complicated set of emotions in people: gratitude for his military service, compassion for his injuries, and apprehension over his unpredictability.

“I’ve never met him personally,” she said. “I set up his trust, though. It sounds like he’s been through a lot.” She gave me a kind smile as she closed the file on her desk, and I was grateful that she spoke about Danny with sympathy instead of disdain.

“He has,” I said.

“Listen, one other thing,” she said as we both got to our feet. “When someone dies unexpectedly the way your father did, they don’t have the chance to clean everything up. You know, erase sites he’s Googled or whatever. So don’t dig too deeply into his personal things. Don’t upset yourself.”

I frowned at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked.

“No. I barely knew your father.” She walked around the desk, heading with me toward the door. “When my own father passed away, though, I found some … pornography, that sort of thing, on his computer and wished I hadn’t looked.” She smiled sheepishly. “Just a little warning.”

“I can’t imagine my father being into porn,” I said, my hand on the doorknob.

“You never know,” she said. “Sounds like your father was full of surprises.”





4.



I wanted an ordinary brother. One I could talk to reasonably about my appointment with Suzanne. A brother I could grieve with over our father. I was never going to have that brother, and even though I’d managed to guilt him into coming over to the house that evening, his anxiety was like a third person in my car as we drove away from the RV park. He said his Subaru was low on gas and he didn’t have the money to fill it, so I’d picked him up, trying to hand him the hundred dollars I’d taken from his trust fund. He turned away from the money with an annoyed expression on his face. I couldn’t blame him. It had to do something to his pride to be dependent on his younger sister for funds now.

I stopped at MJ’s to pick up a pound of peel-and-eat shrimp and fries, my heart racing as I waited for the order to be filled, afraid I’d return to the car to find Danny gone. But he was still there, filling the air in my car with cigarette smoke. I said nothing. If he needed to smoke to get through this, fine. If he needed to drink, fine. I’d bought a six-pack of beer that afternoon. Whatever it took.

Before starting the car, I reached into my purse and pulled out the phone I’d bought that afternoon. “Here’s a prepaid phone for you so we can keep in touch,” I said, holding it out to him.

“I really don’t want a phone,” he said.

“Just for while I’m here.” I pressed the phone into his hand. “I put my number in the contacts, and your number is in mine.” After a moment, he closed his fingers around the phone and slid it into his jeans pocket.

Satisfied, I started the car and we drove to the house, the scent of Old Bay Seasoning mixing with the cigarette smoke. I parked in the driveway, and we walked slowly across the lawn and up the steps to the front door. His limp was not as bad as it used to be, I thought, though I had the feeling his slow, stiff gait might be due to pain. Or maybe he simply wanted to put off going into the house as long as he could. It had been years since he’d been inside.

“Daddy has about two hundred thousand in savings,” I said as we walked through the living room toward the kitchen, the sack of shrimp and fries in my arms. Danny turned his head left and right, taking in the room. I doubted anything had changed since the last time he’d been there. “Half of that money will go into your trust.”

“What would I do with that much money?” he asked when we reached the kitchen. I knew it was a rhetorical question.

“Well”—I put the bag on the counter—“it’ll be there if you ever need it.” I’d already told him he could keep the land where he was living.

He immediately walked to the refrigerator and opened the door, pulling a beer from the carton. “How’d he end up with that much in the bank?” he asked, shutting the refrigerator door.

I reached into one of the cupboards for a couple of plates. “He was a good saver, I guess,” I said. “He didn’t have many expenses. And he used to work for the U.S. Marshals Service, which I guess you knew?”