“Where did you get that?” she asked.
A pause.
“You told me it was closed.”
Another pause.
“No.
No, Caleb, you said the account was settled.”
She turned and looked at me through the workshop doorway.
I could see the truth arriving in her expression before she said it.
“What account?”
I asked when she ended the call.
Jessica lowered the phone.
“The first loan wasn’t for Mom’s treatment,” she said.
Susan came out behind her.
“What are you saying?”
Jessica looked at her mother.
“Caleb says the original loan was opened three years ago.
Before your heart surgery.
Before the salon failed.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
She swallowed.
“Thirty thousand dollars.”
“Who received it?”
She looked at Dad’s farmhouse.
“Caleb says it was transferred into an account belonging to someone named Michael Harris.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
