Page 6 of The Beach Trap

Still, I kept the secret. I wasn’t sure if I was protecting my dad from being found out, or protecting my mom from being hurt. I just knew it was my responsibility to keep my family together.

Now my dad is gone, but the secret is still here, wedged between my mom and me, like a crack in the foundation our family was built on.

A door opens into the lobby and Scott, the junior Callahan, walks out. He looks about my mom’s age, tall and sturdy, like he played football in college before following in his father’s footsteps. He flashes us the same sympathetic smile I recognize from when he introduced himself during shiva.

“Eleanor.” He greets my mother before turning to me. “Katherine.”

“Kat,” I say, correcting him. I’m not sure why I bother, except that I already feel so out of sorts in this situation that I at least want the comfort of my name.

Mr.Callahan nods and leads Mom and me back to his office. He takes a seat behind his massive desk and invites us to sit in the plush chairs facing him.

“Ladies,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news.”

My breath hitches and I brace myself for the impact of a crash that’s been fifteen years in the making. I clench my fists, afraid not of the news, but of how my mom will take it: if she’ll fall apart, if she’ll be mad at my dad, or at me since I’m the only one left to blame.

“At the time of his passing, David was on the verge of bankruptcy,” the lawyer says.

I exhale and lean back into my chair at the same time my mom leans forward in hers. That was not the bombshell of truth I’d been expecting.

“That can’t be right,” my mom says, her voice slightly wavering.

For the first time, I realize the weight of what the lawyer actually revealed. It wasn’tthesecret, but it was one that could have an even greater impact on my mom’s life.

I keep my eyes focused on the lawyer, not brave enough to glance at my mom beside me as we both wait for the man to say he’s made a mistake. But Scott Callahan’s face is set in an all-business expression, any signs of warmth or familiarity left out in the lobby.

“David unfortunately made a few bad investments,” he says, “including one in a friend’s business that, well, for lack of better words, tanked. David was the main investor.”

My mom shakes her head. “But—”

“He leveraged most of your investment portfolio, and there’s not much left in savings—although the house is fully paid for, and it’s yours.” He says those last words as if my mother should take comfort that while she’s lost her husband, all her money, and any sense of safety or security, at least she isn’t homeless.

But I’m with my mom—there must be a mistake. If my dad had been hemorrhaging money, there’s no way he would’vegotten a brand-new Porsche just a few months ago. And the month before that, he bought me the checkered Louis bag I’d been eyeing.

Those were not the actions of a man who’d lost all his money. But they were, I realize, the actions of a man who carried on like normal, living a charade until the very end, even as his world crumbled around him. And now that he’s gone, we’re left to clean up his mess without so much as a broom.

“I suggest you take some time to process this news,” the lawyer says. “But when you’re ready, I think it would be smart to sell the house and move to a smaller place. I imagine you’ll be able to live quite comfortably.”

Quite comfortably?My mom’s lips narrow into a thin line at Callahan’s dismissive words. The Buckhead house isn’t just a house. It’s a symbol of my mom’s status, a place to entertain and show off her exquisite taste in art and design. I could no sooner see her moving into a condo than I could picture her getting a tattoo.

“For Katherine, er, Kat,” he says, correcting himself, “your father left a small sum of money, ten thousand dollars. And as far as the beach house in Destin...”

My heart lifts at the thought of my grandparents’ Florida beach house. Some of my best memories took place at that house, on the rare lazy summer days my dad would leave his work at the office and join me in the ocean, catching waves while Mom watched from the white-sand shore. I didn’t realize my dad knew how much those days and the house meant to me. My eyes well with tears at this final, thoughtful gift.

“Your father left half of the house to you, and the other half”—he pauses—“to your half sister.”

My stomach twists in a giant knot at his words. Blake may bemy father’s daughter, but she’s not my sister—half or otherwise. But now is hardly the time to correct him.

I’ve had fifteen years to process this news, but my mom hasn’t had the same luxury. I take a deep breath and turn toward her, bracing myself for the worst. But she looks as stoic and serene as ever. Her head is held high and her eyes are trained on the stack of papers on Callahan’s desk. I watch, waiting for her stone face to crack as the truth inevitably hits her the same way the news about the money had.

But she doesn’t so much as flinch, and I get the sinking feeling that this isn’t news to her. Suddenly, I’m the one who’s shocked that the secret I helped my father keep for the last fifteen years wasn’t a secret at all.

All the years of guilt and shame at being an accomplice to his deceit are gone in an instant, replaced by a flash of anger.

I remember the one time I’d been brave enough to bring Blake up again. It was approaching summer the year after we’d met, a few months after her letters had stopped coming. I was mad at my dad for missing the father-daughter dance at the Jewish Community Center, and I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. So I asked if he’d talked to Blake recently.

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of her name, and he snapped like a tight rubber band, yelling in a hushed voice that my mother was in the next room. I realized then that it would be impossible to hurt him without taking my innocent mother down, too.

As much as I want to ask my mom when and how she found out, I know this isn’t the time or place. I imagine she’s already mortified that this lawyer knows the ugly truth behind the picture-perfect family image she’s taken so much pride in portraying for the last three decades. And all she’s got left to show for it is a house she might lose, too.

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