Chapter 5 - HER SISTER WON’T ANSWER
Vanessa arrived fourteen minutes late.
Typical.
Natalie used to joke that her sister considered clocks a form of oppression.
Today it was not funny.
Vanessa parked three spaces away.
Thirty-one.
Dark hair tied back.
No makeup.
Gray coat.
She looked thinner.
Older.
Afraid.
Natalie remained in her car.
Vanessa approached.
Tapped on the passenger window.
Natalie unlocked the door.
Vanessa sat.
Neither spoke.
Finally Vanessa said:
“I’m not sleeping with Ryan.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“He told me.”
Vanessa looked relieved.
Natalie hated the relief.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Do not act like clearing the lowest possible bar makes this better.”
Vanessa looked down.
“You’re right.”
“What happened?”
Silence.
Natalie waited.
Vanessa clasped her hands.
“I messed up.”
“How?”
“I borrowed money.”
“From Ryan?”
“No.”
“Judith?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Vanessa started crying.
Natalie felt nothing yet.
That scared her.
“Who?”
“Myself.”
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa stared at the dashboard.
“Dad’s house account.”
Natalie’s mind stopped.
After their father died four years earlier, the proceeds from selling his small Naperville home had been divided mostly between the sisters.
One portion—roughly $160,000—remained in a jointly held family account because final estate tax and property issues were still unresolved.
They had agreed not to touch it without mutual consent.
Natalie’s voice changed.
“How much?”
Vanessa cried harder.
“How much?”
“Eighty-four.”
Natalie stared.
“Hundred?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Thousand.”
Silence.
A car drove slowly behind them.
Someone pushed a cart across the parking lot.
The world had the indecency to continue.
“You took eighty-four thousand dollars.”
“I was going to put it back.”
Natalie laughed.
The sentence came from childhood.
Their father.
One bet.
One loan.
One missing utility payment.
Always:
I’ll put it back.
“What did you do with it?”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Gambling.”
Natalie looked away.
Of course.
The Brooks secret was not adultery.
It was repetition.
Their father, Michael Ward, had spent much of their childhood chasing sports bets and casino losses.
Natalie became the responsible daughter.
Vanessa became the funny one.
Different survival strategies.
Same house.
“You gamble?”
“I stopped.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Because Ryan found out.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“I called him.”
“Why him?”
“Because I couldn’t call you.”
Natalie’s voice hardened.
“Why?”
“You would know what it meant.”
“I’m your sister.”
“That’s why.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“You remember Dad better than I do.”
“No.”
“You remember the shutoff notices.”
“So do you.”
“I remember you fixing things.”
Natalie froze.
Vanessa continued.
“You were fourteen and checking the mailbox before Mom because you didn’t want her to cry.”
Natalie looked away.
“I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t just see me.”
“What would I see?”
“Dad.”
That landed.
Not enough to excuse anything.
Enough to hurt.
“What did Ryan do?”
“He checked the account.”
“How?”
“I gave him access.”
“Then?”
“He saw what I’d taken.”
“And he replaced it.”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“I thought his money.”
Natalie stared.
Vanessa’s expression changed.
“It wasn’t?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
Natalie felt a new fear.
Ryan had said he borrowed twenty-five thousand from Judith.
That left fifty-nine thousand.
“Where did the rest come from?”
Vanessa whispered:
“I thought savings.”
Natalie closed her eyes.
Their savings?
“No.”
She opened the banking app.
Checked joint accounts.
Nothing obvious.
Then remembered the home-equity line of credit Ryan had opened eighteen months earlier for possible renovations.
Unused.
Or supposed to be.
Natalie pulled up the mortgage portal.
Balance:
$41,000.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked at Vanessa.
“Do you know what a HELOC is?”
Vanessa’s face went white.
“Oh God.”
There it was.
Ryan had used debt secured by their home.
Natalie’s home.
To replace money Vanessa had stolen from a family account.
Then lied.
Every Thursday.
For six months.
Vanessa whispered:
“Natalie, I didn’t know.”
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
“You just didn’t ask.”
Vanessa flinched.
The pattern again.
Everyone doing things for Natalie.
Around Natalie.
Because telling Natalie the truth was apparently considered the least convenient option in the family.
“Why Thursdays?”
“Meetings.”
“What meetings?”
“Gamblers Anonymous.”
Natalie looked at her sister.
“Ryan takes you?”
“He did at first.”
“Every week?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“He still comes.”
“Why?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Because he doesn’t trust me.”
Natalie almost laughed.
“How fascinating.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
May you like
For once, Natalie did not soften.
Not yet.
