Page 131 of What Remains of Grace

The knot in Jenna’s stomach eased. Marilyn sounded normal. Which hopefully meant no medical emergencies.

“Just the usual,” Jenna said. “Sugar, caffeine, and Emmie’s ongoing war with the price of eggs. What’s going on?”

“Well,” Aunt Marilyn said, in that familiar way she had of easing into a story, “I had quite a morning at church. And I’ve been sitting here trying to decide whether to call you or just behave myself. I finally told myself, ‘Marilyn, she would want to know. Just call the girl.’”

Jenna smiled. “Okay . . . is everybody all right?”

“Oh yes,” Aunt M said quickly. “Nobody hurt, nobody in trouble, and nobody making any surprising announcements.” A pause. “This is more of a . . . well, I suppose you’d call it a prayer-list update.”

“That sounds ominous,” Jenna said. “Go on.”

“You’re not going to believe who showed up on it today,” Marilyn said, her voice gentle but undeniably curious.

A dozen names flashed through Jenna’s mind. None prepared her. “Troy Bailey,” Aunt M said softly.

Jenna leaned her head against the wall. Of course.

“What about him?” she asked carefully.

“Well,” Aunt M began, “it sounds like he’s having a very hard time. I didn’t catch every detail, but from what I understand, he got mixed up in some kind of business deal through that young woman he was seeing. Her father is a businessman. He runs several different companies. You know those types.”

Jenna just paused, waiting for Aunt M to continue. Obviously, she was choosing her words carefully.

“It seems after she secretly found out he was running around on her, too, she encouraged him to put money into one of those companies. A lot of money. And he used the house to do it. The one he bought using y’all’s money and the life insurance. She said her daddy was going to double his money.”

“He mortgaged the house?” Jenna asked.

“That’s what I heard,” Aunt M said gently. “Quite heavily. And unfortunately, the business folded not long after. They said her daddy paid that girl a consultant fee of a million dollars. Then just liquidated. The whole company went bankrupt. Everything Troy invested… it’s gone.”

Jenna closed her eyes. “That has to be illegal.”

“There are lawyers involved. Loads of them,” Marilyn said, still sounding more sad than scandalized. “But none of them are Troy’s. His name is way down on the list of people owed anything. They said that man’s lawyers probably have all those contracts sewn up so tightly that nobody will ever see that money again. They say he’s not one to go up against either. Some folks at church were whispering about mob connections, but you know how people exaggerate.”

“So . . . he could lose the house?” Jenna asked carefully. “Lose everything?”

“I’m afraid so,” Marilyn said. “I heard the bank already seized it, actually. You know he hasn’t worked in years. He’s apparently staying at that little motel by the highway. The one with no working vending machines.”

A surprised laugh escaped Jenna. “That’s awful.”

“It is,” her aunt agreed gently. “And I don’t take any pleasure in it. Truly. It doesn’t fix anything that happened. It doesn’t make it fair, but when I heard it . . . I don’t know, sweetheart. A very old, very heavy part of me felt just the tiniest bit lighter.”

Jenna felt her throat tighten.

“I’ve prayed for years,” Marilyn said carefully, “not for anything bad to happen to him, never that, but simply for the strength to let go of the anger. To trust that God saw what Grace lived through, and that someday, in some way, the truth would come out. Just enough to let my heart rest a little.”

Jenna swallowed. “It doesn’t bring her back. And it doesn’t . . . help us.”

There was a quiet pause on the other end of the line, the kind filled with someone choosing their words carefully.

“No, sweetheart,” Aunt Marilyn said at last. “It doesn’t bring her back. Nothing will.” Her voice warmed, gentle as a hand on Jenna’s cheek. “But look at you. Look at Emmie. Look at that bakery. You’re doing just fine. Better than fine, if you ask me.”

She exhaled. Marilyn continued, “And him? He isn’t. Not because you wished anything on him, but because his choices finally caught up with him. Sometimes that’s what justice looks like in this world. Not perfect. Just . . . a little tilt in the right direction every once in a while.”

Jenna let that settle, the truth of it fitting quietly into place.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “We’re doing just fine. I guess you’re right.”

“I just didn’t want you to hear it through Facebook gossip,” Aunt M added. “And for what it’s worth, I am very proud of you. You did right by that child and by that house. Your sister would be proud . . .” Her voice softened. “She’d be laughing her head off right now about this. I can almost hear her.”