Chapter 9: What Teresa Said
The room at the police station was small and smelled like old coffee.
Teresa sat across the table from me, her hands folded in front of her.
She was still wearing the dress from the party — the new one, the one she'd bought with my money.
Her hair had come loose on one side.
She looked smaller than she had in my backyard, but her eyes were the same.
Greg sat beside me.
He had told me, on the drive over, to let her talk.
Don't fill silences.
Don't argue.
Let her give us what she gives us.
"I asked to see you alone," Teresa said, looking at Greg.
"That's not possible," I said.
Her jaw tightened.
Then she let it go.
"I want you to understand why I did this," she said.
"I'm listening."
"Your father came back with nothing.
He'd made bad investments.
He owed people money.
He needed a way to stabilize himself, and I — I wanted him back, Connor.
He's still your father.
He's still my brother.
I thought if we could get the property secured, get him on stable ground, we could bring the family back together properly."
"By stealing my house."
"By protecting family assets." Her voice was firm.
"Amy is not family.
She came into your life three years ago and she has had access to everything you built.
Everything your father and I—"
"My father left," I said.
"He didn't build anything with me.
I built it alone."
"You built it with the values we raised you with."
"Teresa." I kept my voice flat.
"You sent my wife to scrub dishes while she held a sick baby.
You told twenty relatives she was only good for giving birth.
You forged my signature on a will that would have left my son with nothing."
"The will was Robert's idea."
"You knew about it."
She looked away.
"You knew," I said again.
"And you let it happen.
And you took fifty-four thousand dollars from me over eighteen months and spent it on parties and new dresses and whatever Robert needed to get back on his feet."
Her chin lifted.
"You were always generous with your money."
"I was generous with my mother.
That's not the same thing."
She looked at me then — really looked at me — and for just a moment something shifted in her face.
Not guilt.
Not quite.
Something older.
Something that might have been grief, if she'd let it go that far.
"I thought Amy was wrong for you," she said quietly.
"From the beginning.
I thought she was too quiet.
Too careful.
I thought she was hiding something."
"She wasn't hiding anything.
She was afraid of you."
"She should have stood up to me."
"She was alone in a house with twenty of your relatives and a sick baby.
She had no money of her own because you'd convinced me the household account was enough.
She had no allies because you'd spent a year telling everyone she was ungrateful." I leaned forward slightly.
"You built a cage around her and then criticized her for not walking out of it."
Teresa was quiet for a long time.
"I want to make this right," she said finally.
"That's not your decision anymore."
"Connor—"
"The DA's office is reviewing the documents.
Greg will handle the property matter.
Whatever comes next comes through the legal process." I stood up.
"I'm not going to tell you I hate you.
You're my mother.
But what you did to Amy — what you put her through in that kitchen, what you planned to do to my son's future — I don't have a word for that yet that I'm willing to say out loud."
I pushed my chair back.
Teresa's voice came very quietly.
"Will you let me see Frederick?
Someday?"
I stopped.
Didn't turn around.
"That depends entirely on what you do next," I said.
"And it will be Amy's decision as much as mine."
I walked out.
Greg caught up with me in the hallway.
"She gave us enough," he said.
"She confirmed knowledge of the will.
That's significant."
"I know."
"Connor." He stopped walking.
"You did well in there."
I didn't feel like I'd done well.
I felt like I'd just had a conversation with someone who used to be my mother and was now something I didn't have a name for.
I walked out of the building into the afternoon sun and called Amy.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"She confirmed the will.
She tried to justify it." I paused.
"She asked if she could see Frederick someday."
Amy was quiet for a moment.
"What did you say?"
"I said it was your decision as much as mine."
Another pause.
Longer.
May you like
"Okay," Amy said.
"Come home."
