Chapter 9 - TILDA’S OFFER
Tilda asked to meet.
Neutral office.
Lawyers present.
No children.
I agreed.
She looked tired.
No perfect hair.
No jewelry except her wedding? No, she was divorced, so only a watch.
For the first time in years, she looked like my sister instead of a performance of certainty.
She began badly.
“You slapped me.”
“Yes.”
“You broke the dessert table.”
“Yes.”
“You humiliated me in front of everyone.”
“Yes.”
She waited for defense.
I gave none.
“I am handling my conduct separately.”
That disarmed her.
Then I asked:
“Why Eamon?”
“Because his account had room.”
She said it quietly.
There.
No:
I love Maisie more.
No:
He deserved it.
Financial convenience.
“Why the awards?”
“Documentation.”
“And Calder?”
Her eyes filled.
“I wanted Maisie to have something extraordinary.”
“She already had real achievements.”
“Not enough.”
“For whom?”
Silence.
“Tilda.”
“For Dad.”
Our father.
Dead six years.
I stared.
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you proving?”
She started crying.
“Maisie was his first grandchild. He said she was brilliant.”
“She is.”
“He expected things.”
“Dad expected things from everyone.”
“You always got to disappoint him.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“You left the family business. Married who you wanted. Built your own company. He yelled, and you left anyway.”
“And you?”
“I stayed.”
There.
The oldest daughter.
The responsible one.
Trust liaison.
The child who turned parental approval into identity.
It explained.
Did not excuse.
“Why Eamon’s money?”
“Maisie’s annual allowance wasn’t enough for everything.”
“Then choose less.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could.”
“I didn’t.”
Better.
Then:
“I can repay.”
“How much?”
“Everything improper once the audit finalizes.”
“From where?”
“Sale of my investment condo. Brokerage account. Future trust distributions where permitted.”
Possible.
No magic cash.
“What do you want?”
She looked at her lawyer.
Then me.
“No criminal referral from you.”
“I don’t control the school, trust, Calder, or prosecutors.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“Tell Grant this was financial, not about Maisie.”
“That part is true.”
“Tell Eamon she didn’t steal his awards.”
Also true.
Tilda had.
Maisie held them.
Different.
I nodded.
“I’ll tell him accurately.”
Then I asked:
“Were you going to destroy Eamon’s school reputation?”
Her face collapsed.
“I thought the cheating complaint would make the records unusable.”
“Did you care what that did to him?”
“I told myself he was five and no one would remember.”
I felt physically ill.
“He would.”
“I know now.”
“No. You knew then.”
She looked at me.
And did not deny it.
Before we left, Tilda said:
“There’s one thing the auditors haven’t told you.”
Naomi stiffened.
“What?”
“The account substitutions go back farther than Eamon.”
“We already know family administrative charges.”
“Not that.”
She looked at me.
“When Dad died, Maisie’s account was not supposed to be the only education branch funded.”
My pulse changed.
“What does that mean?”
Tilda closed her eyes.
“There was a reserve for Sorrel’s future children before Eamon was born.”
Naomi said:
“How much?”
Tilda looked at me.
May you like
“I moved part of it before he existed.”
That was the door to Chapter 10.
