Page 11 of Single Mom's Undoing
“I honestly don’t care,” Margot replies. “I’ve already asked myself these questions. In the absence of an answer, I chose to move on. But to answer your persistent inquiry, five years ago, Emmanuel and I had some issues, personal issues that are none of your concern. I was to blame. And when I came back into our marriage, he was there, eager to work things through. So, that’s what we did.”
“Then three years later, he disappears.”
“Carter, what are you getting at?”
“Five years ago, Emmanuel started using. Heavily.”
“Don’t I know it,” Margot rolls her eyes.
“Right after you worked things out.”
She exhales sharply, utterly exasperated. “I swear to God, if you’re here just to rile me up and piss me off, then leave. I don’t have the energy or the patience for these half-assed mind games.”
“Have you considered that he might be dead?” I ask the difficult question.
“Not according to his credit card trails. According to his recent expenses, he’s been living it up somewhere in Baja. And if I take a closer look at his company’s financial records, I reckon I’ll find enough embezzlement there to justify calling the Feds on his sorry ass. But I won’t do that. If he stole from us through his subsidiary, I’ll consider that his one-time alimony payment and bid him adieu. I’m better off.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” I say, and I mean every word. “I really am. And I hope it gets better.”
“It is getting better.”
“You’re popping Oxy like they’re Pez, and you’re washing it all down with vodka. I don’t know if any of that qualifies as better. Does Dad know?”
Margot sits up, her cheeks flaring red with fury. “Ah, so you’re here to make sure I’m not running Daddy’s business into the ground? That’s what this is about, right, Carter? You want your seat at the table back because little Margot can’t hack it.”
“No, I am genuinely worried about you and seeing as you and Dad spend a lot of time together, I figured he’d have noticed.”
“Our dear father hasn’t been around, Carter. He’s too busy traveling the world with his business buddies and greasing the right wheels to nab himself a state senate seat.”
“State senate. That’s new.”
And deeply concerning. If my father intends to take his business practices into public policy, then the entire state of Oregon is practically screwed. The man is ruthless and has nothing but contempt for the little guy.
“You haven’t been around, so you wouldn’t know,” Margot retorts, leaning back into her seat. “The man is ambitious. He took our grandfather’s fortune and tripled it. He thinks he can do more from a higher seat of power.”
“He tripled our grandfather’s fortune by crippling any small business that tried to coexist with Lockwood Industries in the same market,” I point out. “Thousands were left without a job. The unemployment rate for this district alone plummeted.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing you opened up your fancy private security firm, huh?” she sneers. “You created a few jobs to make up for Daddy’s sins.”
“It’s sad, really, looking at you now,” I say as I get up. “I thought you’d matured, that maybe, just maybe, I’d catch a glimpse of the real Margot today. But you’re still buried under all of that self-loathing and misery. My mistake.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, brother,” Margot calls out after me.
I’m halfway to the foyer when I pause, listening to the sad silence I left behind. Except it’s not silence, per se. I can hear Margot sighing and sobbing. She works so hard to keep up that stony, spikey façade, when deep down, she’s crumbling. She’s been crumbling for the past five years, but at least she was able to hold it together when Emmanuel was around.
Now, she’s plummeting, and I don’t know where it’ll lead her.
She is right about one thing. There were a series of unfortunate events that happened years ago. It didn’t start with Stephan’s suicide, but it ended with Clara’s departure.
And I’ve got a feeling that some of the answers are hidden deep within my own family.
4
CLARA
There’s a café on the south side of town that makes the best lavender scones. It’s also far enough away from the square and the main avenues that I’m able to take my son outwithout worrying that I might run into familiar faces.
I double-checked the emergency kit in my bag—extra inhaler, meds, and the portable monitor Dr. Patel insisted I carry. Leaving the house without them isn’t an option anymore.
