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An Improper Deal(57)

By:Nadia Lee


They can say whatever they want, think whatever they want, but I still don’t believe it’s true. There has to be a mistake—all the things people say about my dad.

My only worry is Nonny. She’s only thirteen. She can’t cope with her classmates shunning her or the way she’s suddenly been disinvited to all the parties and sleepovers.

I’m still shaking that Susan Lexington’s mom told Nonny she had to go home because she isn’t welcome anymore. What a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” Nonny says, her voice small, as I drive back home.

“It’s not your fault.” I don’t call Mrs. Lexington names out loud. Nonny’s still too young for that kind of stuff.

“Do you think it’s true? What people say?”

“No,” I say decisively. “No way.”

“But everyone says Dad was running a Ponzi scheme.”

“That’s what nasty rich Wall Street guys do, not Dad. Only thing he did is try to help people in town make money so they could save for their retirements or their kids’ college and stuff like that.”

“But…”

“The whole economy is awful right now, and it’s been slow to recover.” I look over to see how much she’s understanding. “Even a professional investment company would’ve lost money. People just want to blame Dad for bad timing.” I take a deep breath. “Listen, Nonny. Dad’s a great guy, super smart too. But how could he trick everyone in town? That doesn’t make any sense, right? I mean, it’s not like everyone else is too dumb to figure it out if it’s really a fraud.”

She thinks that over. “I guess.”

“He even has a partner. Are they saying that Mr. Smith is too stupid to figure it out too? He went to Dartmouth, which is a really good school.”

She nods.

“I’m telling you, it’s all bull.” I let out a rough breath. “Once the truth comes out, people are going to be sorry they were mean to us. You’ll see.”

“Okay.”

Even as she says that, I know she’s unsure. She’s only thirteen. To her, being accepted and liked right now is more important than some future apology from the people around us.

I park my car in the driveway. As Nonny and I walk toward the three-story brick house with a cheery yellow roof, I can hear loud, angry voices coming from our home.

Mom and Dad didn’t used to fight, but now they argue all the time. Nonny stiffens, but I force a smile for her sake. “Come on.”

I open the door and yell out, “We’re home!”

Instantly the yelling stops. Mom comes out, her hands beautifully manicured and soft. I have her eyes and nose, but Dad’s mouth and brow.

“Why don’t you go up and change? I’m making pot roast for dinner,” she says with a labored smile.

Nonny’s shoulders sag with visible relief that the fight’s over. I’m worried about my parents. I don’t want to see them fight either, but I don’t know what to say.

Nonny and I go upstairs. “When are they going to stop?” she asks as she drops her duffel bag in her bedroom.

“Probably soon.” As soon as Dad’s name gets cleared, I’m sure. Mom can’t stand the scrutiny and social condemnation. She’s used to having a full calendar, stuffed with charity events, lunches and dinners. Beautiful and vivacious, she’s always been the center of Lincoln City’s social scene.

“I heard that they’re going to divorce,” my sister whispers.

“Nope. Never going to happen.” I crouch in front of her. “Don’t listen to what everyone says.” Despite my calm words, apprehension slithers over me like rancid oil. Mom and Dad are terrible at hiding things from me. I could always guess what they got for my birthday and Christmas.

Loud yelling comes from the yard. Startled, I jump to my feet. It’s the voice of my dad’s partner in the investment company.

“It’s all your fault, you fucking bastard!” he screams, his words slurred. He almost sounds drunk.

Dad says something back, but it’s hard to make out with the other man’s ranting.

Pop pop pop.

I jump at the deafening cracks. My heart pounds. They sound like gunshots, but—

Nonny’s hands clutch me. “Anna!”

“Shh…” I soothe her and take a quick peek at the front yard. My blood turns to ice. Dad’s on the lawn, something red pooling around him.

There’s a shriek, then the door bangs open and Mom rushes out. The gun swings toward her.

No!

I grab Nonny and cover her ears with my hands as though that can block out the horrible sound.

Pop pop pop!

My entire body shakes, and I hug Nonny tightly and get on my knees. My instincts are split—call for help, or keep Nonny safe? What if we’re next? Oh my god!