A King's ransom

35

With so many problems, I wasn’t sure which to tackle first. I sat down and made a list. Several lists, actually. I ranked them in order of importance, then chronologically, then from easiest to hardest to solve, from most amazing to least amazing. It was getting me nowhere. In a snap judgment I made it a top priority to fire myself and find a new lawyer. One who didn’t make lists.

But first I needed to have an honest talk with my mother.

I entered the house through the back door and found her seated at the kitchen table. I checked my ominous expression at the door for fear that she’d think something horrible had happened to her husband. But I didn’t hold back on the truth. We were in legal battle with a nasty insurance company that was represented by one of the most powerful law firms on the planet. This was no time for any surprises from my own family. I told her everything. The meetings I’d had with the FBI narcotics agents. Dad’s share of a fishing company with ten million dollars in hidden assets. And finally the suspicions about Lindsey.

Mom didn’t answer for a time that seemed like forever. At last she said, “Your father doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.”

“What about Guillermo?”

“I only met him once. That brunch with your father in Palm Beach. Honestly, I don’t really know Guillermo.”

“I’m beginning to wonder how well Dad really knew him.”

“Your father never even hinted that the company had that kind of cash on hand.”

“It’s possible he didn’t know. The FBI’s financial analysis is a pretty sophisticated unraveling of a rather elaborate corporate structure. None of the bank accounts were held directly in the name of Rey’s Seafood Company. It was all a matter of tracing the accounts of wholly and partially owned subsidiaries back to the parent corporation. Rey’s Seafood was the ultimate parent. Or so they claim.”

“I can assure you, your father never saw a dime of that money.”

“How can you be sure?”

I saw anger in her eyes. Without a word, she got up and left the room. Two minutes later she was back at the kitchen table with a file folder.

“This is how I’m sure,” she said, sorting through the papers for me. “This is a second mortgage on our house that your father took out two years ago to pay off a shrimp boat that capsized in a storm off San Juan del Sur. No insurance. Unfortunately for us, he personally guaranteed the loan from the bank to pay for the boat. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” She moved to the next file. “Here’s an unsecured line of credit that we’ve maxed out at ninety thousand dollars. Here’s the cash advances we’ve taken on Visa, MasterCard, Discover-anyone who’d give us unsecured credit.”

“I had no idea things were so tight for you.”

“Your father’s company hasn’t turned a profit in eighteen months. At least, none that he’s seen. Now, does that look like the financial portfolio of a man who holds the keys to secret bank accounts with millions of dollars?”

“No, but. .”

“But what?”

“I’m trying to think like Duncan Fitz.”

“And you’re thinking what?”

“This does sound like a man who might defraud an insurance company.”

“Your dad didn’t defraud anyone.” She rubbed her eyes, as if a headache were coming on. She got up and went to the sink for a glass of water. From the side, the pregnancy was definitely starting to show.

“I guess the baby on the way only added to the financial stress.”

“What are you suggesting? You think your father bought a kidnap-and-ransom policy so that we could build a life for our new baby on the proceeds of insurance fraud?”

“Not at all. It’s just that these credit cards are like a black hole. I wish he’d come to me. I could have helped out.”

She looked at me as if I were crazy. “Do you think in a million years that your father would come to his own son asking for money?”

“I suppose not.”

“You suppose. Nick, he used to agonize for two days before getting up the nerve to call you on the phone and invite you over for dinner.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“And that’s the whole problem between you and your dad. Neither one of you is ever at fault.”

“You know the truth, Mom. You know how he used to be.”

“That’s in the past. You have to forgive him for that.”

“I have.”

“But have you ever told him that?” Her tone made it sound more like an accusation than a question.

“I think so.”

“Yes, and I’ll tell you why you think so. Because you’ve had the conversation in your mind so many times that it feels real to you. But it never happened. You have to make it happen.”

“I will. Or I’d like to anyway. But what do you expect me to do about it now?”

“Stop blaming your father for the way he used to drink, the way he used to be. A fifty-one-year-old man shouldn’t be made to feel like he has to start a whole new family to find a child who loves him.”

“What?” I said, incredulous.

She brought a hand to her mouth, as if wishing she hadn’t said that.

“This is crazy,” I said. “You know I love Dad. He knows it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But you meant it.”

Her eyes clouded as she laid a hand on her pregnant belly. “It’s not that your father has given up on his children. He just wanted another chance.”

“I’ll give him as many chances as he needs.”

“Maybe you will. And when he finally comes home, maybe you can look him in the eye and tell him so.”

Her take on me and Dad was so simplistic, I knew she didn’t understand. The issue wasn’t whether I could forgive him for his drinking. I could have certainly done that. The man hadn’t touched alcohol in fifteen years. That’s why she had forgiven him. For her, Dad’s drinking had been a chronic weakness, a dark chapter in their lives that they’d put behind them. For me, it all boiled down to a single moment on a single day-the one and only day he’d ever taken me lobster diving with him. The hurt that had lasted all these years stemmed not from his alcoholism but from the words that seemed to flow instinctively from his mouth in a moment of crisis on the boat that day, something no twelve-year-old boy should ever hear from his father.

I didn’t even try to sort that out with my mother. But there was one thing we’d left unresolved.

“Mom, we haven’t talked about Lindsey.”

“Yes, I think we have.” She gave me a long look, as if to say that everything that had gone wrong between my father and me applied double to his daughter.

“It’s a very serious accusation they’ve thrown at her. But so far it’s just an accusation.”

“I haven’t spoken to your sister since her birthday.”

“Has Dad?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time?”

“I don’t know. But I think they’ve actually even seen each other a few times down in Nicaragua.”

“Was it an ugly thing, or were they on good terms?”

“Let me put it this way. Your father and Lindsey have never been that close. But they were never, never that far apart.”

“Thanks, Mom. That’s a help.”

She nodded as if to say “You’re welcome,” then quietly left the room.