Chapter 5 - “YOU CAN’T DO THAT”
“You can’t do that.”
No greeting.
Dad’s forehead required three adhesive strips.
No stitches.
Police had taken a report.
He told me before I asked.
“I can stop transfers from my own account.”
“Those funds support people.”
“Which people?”
“You know.”
“No. That’s the problem.”
His breathing changed.
“Your mother’s birthday is not the time to conduct an audit.”
“You charged almost eighteen thousand dollars to me for her birthday.”
“You offered.”
“I offered fifteen.”
“Costs changed.”
“And the LLC?”
Silence.
“What LLC?”
Poor choice.
“Bennett Family Holdings.”
Dad exhaled.
“That’s nothing.”
“Then explain.”
“An investment vehicle.”
“Using my support account.”
“Temporarily.”
“For what?”
“You’re being emotional.”
I almost laughed.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Do not use that sentence again.”
He stopped.
Then:
“We found an opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“The property behind us.”
The neighboring lot.
Two-acre home occupied by an elderly couple for years.
“They’re selling?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you care?”
“We can combine the lots.”
I stared at my wall.
“We?”
“Family.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the plan.”
“I don’t need another house.”
“It’s not a house. Long-term family property. Events. Guest residence. Asset.”
“Who owns Bennett Family Holdings?”
Silence.
“You and Mom.”
“Initially.”
“And you used my money for deposits?”
“Feasibility costs.”
My voice went cold.
“You were planning to ask me to fund the purchase.”
“Invest.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“About one point four.”
Million.
I closed my eyes.
My father continued:
“The bank will finance part if you guarantee.”
There it was.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
“Tomorrow.”
After the birthday.
After my children served the family.
After Robert reminded everyone who kept whom “in their place.”
“No.”
“Thomas.”
“No.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t make a decision tonight.”
“I just did.”
I hung up.
Five minutes later, Rebecca appeared in the doorway.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is Grandpa in trouble?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked at the laptop.
“Is that the paper he had?”
“What paper?”
“At the party.”
My attention sharpened.
“What did you see?”
“Grandpa had a blue folder.”
“Okay.”
“He told Grandma, ‘Once Thomas signs Monday, none of this matters.’”
Monday.
It was Saturday.
May you like
The birthday had not only been a celebration.
It had been a prelude.
