Flamingo Diner. Sherryl Woods

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      “What exactly are our assets?” Rosa asked. “Don had insurance policies.”

      The attorney looked uncomfortable. “I’ve looked into those. Because his death hasn’t…” He stopped, censored himself, and tried again. “Because Don’s death hasn’t officially been ruled an accident, they won’t pay. Not yet, at any rate. Of course, once there’s an official ruling, I’m sure that money will come to you.”

      Emma watched her mother’s face as the attorney spoke. She showed no reaction to his pointed remark about the death not having been ruled an accident. Once again she wondered if her mother shared her suspicions about it being deliberate. Was that why she’d been so angry, why she’d refused to see her friends? Because she didn’t want to voice her fear that her husband had committed suicide?

      “I see,” Rosa said, her voice weak and clearly strained. “What do we have?”

      “There’s your joint checking account. A small retirement account. This house and, of course, Flamingo Diner. Rosa, I’m sure you have a better sense of your cash flow than I do, but as long as the diner stays operating, I imagine you’ll be just fine financially. The mortgage payment is a little higher than I anticipated, but you’ve been managing for months now, so there’s no reason to assume you won’t be able to continue to do so.”

      Her mother’s complexion paled. “We can’t possibly have a high mortgage payment on the diner. We took out that loan nearly thirty years ago. We should be within months, maybe a year, of paying it off.”

      The attorney looked taken aback by her claim. “Rosa, I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. According to the records I have, the loan won’t be paid off for another fourteen years. Don refinanced and took out a fifteen-year note on the diner just a year ago.”

      Emma reached for her mother’s hand, found it to be cold as ice. “How can that be?” she asked. “Surely my mother wouldn’t be mistaken about something like that.”

      “All I know is what the bank reported to me,” Jack said defensively. “The loan on the house should be paid off about the same time. It was refinanced last year as well.”

      “Oh, my God,” Rosa whispered, looking shocked. “What did he do to us?”

      Emma, Jeff and Andy watched helplessly as their mother ran from the room, listened as the door slammed shut behind her. Her sobs echoed through the stunned silence.

      “I’m sorry,” Jack said, looking at Emma. “I had no idea she didn’t know.” He gathered his papers together, then met Emma’s gaze. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, anything at all.”

      Emma doubted she would be calling on him. For the moment, he’d done quite enough to further shatter their once secure world. As for her, any last hope she’d had of being able to go back to Washington in the near future was pretty much dashed to bits. Far worse, with the revelations about the financial mess her father had created and hidden from her mother, any slim shred of hope she’d clung to that her father’s death had been an accident had been snapped in two.

      7

      Emma wished with everything in her that she could follow Jack Lawrence out into the night and never come back. She dreaded going back inside to face the million questions her brothers were bound to have. How could she calm their fears when she had so many of her own? As for her mother, she had no idea how to deal with her at all.

      When she finally drew in a deep breath and went into the dining room, she walked into the middle of a heated argument between Andy and Jeff.

      “Leave it to the old man to throw us a curve,” Jeff said angrily. “Did you see mom’s face? She didn’t know about those mortgages. I’ll bet dad was throwing all that money away on some woman.”

      “He was not!” Andy said, obviously near tears. “Don’t you dare say that.”

      “Andy’s right,” Emma said quietly. “I won’t let you talk about our father that way.”

      “Then you explain where all that money went,” Jeff retorted.

      “I don’t know,” Emma said. “But I do intend to find out.”

      Andy ignored her and turned to Jeff. “Are we broke?”

      Fearful of what Jeff might say, she stepped in. “No. As long as we have the diner, we’ll never be broke.”

      “What are we going to do?” Andy asked, still looking to his brother. He swallowed hard, then squared his shoulders and said bravely, “I can drop out of football this fall and work another job. I can put off college for another year, too.”

      Emma wasn’t surprised that Andy was immediately willing to make sacrifices. It was his nature, but she couldn’t allow him to do it.

      Before she could say a word, though, Jeff spoke up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said fiercely. “This is not your problem to solve.”

      “Then who will?” Andy asked.

      “We’ll all pitch in, I guess,” Jeff said, sounding less certain.

      “Even Emma?” Andy asked as if she weren’t sitting right there. His skepticism was plain.

      Emma sighed. Until now, things had been so hectic that she’d been able to avoid the fact that her brother was furious with her for not coming home sooner. Clearly, she had some fence-mending to do with Andy.

      “Of course, I’ll pitch in,” Emma said emphatically.

      “You planning on sending a check from D.C. every so often?” Jeff asked bitterly, then added mockingly, “Big deal.”

      So, it was two against one, she thought. Maybe she deserved their attitude. She returned Jeff’s angry gaze with an unflinching look. “What would you like me to do?”

      Jeff faltered at that. “Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do,” he retorted, heading for the door.

      “Jeff!”

      Emma’s impatient, slightly frantic voice carried after him, but he ignored her. She turned to Andy.

      “Why don’t you go ahead and say it,” she suggested quietly.

      He squirmed uncomfortably. He was not the kind of kid who enjoyed confrontation.

      “Well?”

      “Say what?” he asked.

      “I know you’re angry with me. I know you think if I had come home sooner things might have turned out differently.”

      “That’s right,” he said, his voice climbing. “If you’d been here, Dad might not be dead. It’s your fault, Emma.” His voice caught on a sob. “I hate you! I hate you!”

      She stopped him as he tried to run from the room and held him tightly. “I wish I’d been here,” she told him, her own tears streaking down her cheeks. “I wish I’d listened to you.” He had no idea how much she regretted the choice she’d made to wait to come home.

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