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“Mmm,” she says. “Nothing to steal here anyway. Only debt. God, look at all these bills.” Cupping her cheek, she peers at one in particular. “Fuck. The mortgage is due.”
“That’s your father’s responsibility,” I remind her.
Her gaze flicks up to mine. “He won’t pay it. Which means if I don’t, we’ll lose the house.”
“It’shishouse to lose.”
“It was Momma’s. She’s the one who wanted it. Everything here, she chose.” Her shoulders slump in defeat. “Let me take care of these really quick, then I’ll pack. Okay?”
“Not okay.” I snatch the bills from her hand.
“Luca!” She tries to get them back, but it’s easy to lift them out of her reach.
“You go pack. I will take care of these.”
“Wh-what?”
“If you have the money to cover them, I’d be surprised.” I lift a finger to shush her when she tries to protest. “Briar House was my mother’s too. So I know. I know.”
She drops her hand and gives me a quick nod. “Thank you,” she whispers, then rushes up the stairs.
While she seems to be tearing her room apart, the drawers opening and hangers being yanked from the rod, I go through the mail.
There’s a lot of credit card debt. A quick glance at the itemized list tells me much of it isn’t Carina’s doing. Large sums have been spent in hair salons and clothing stores. But even more of it has been flushed down the toilets that are the casinos in Atlantic City and other clubs.
Gregorio. If I could name one man who could possibly rival my father in being a shitty parent, it’s him.
I fold the bills I intend to pay, the ones that would affect Carina directly, into my back pocket.
A few minutes later, she comes down winded and disheveled as she carries one small bag.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, peering behind her to see if there’s something larger I need to carry out.
“This is it. Turns out, I don’t have a lot here either.” She shrugs. “Oh, but I do want my favorite tumbler. You can’t find them that big anywhere.”
She goes into the kitchen, with me on her tail, and rummages through the cabinets until she produces an obscenely large blue tumbler.
“What do you put in that?”
“Coffee,” she replies. “I’ve needed copious amounts of it to keep me awake throughout the years.”
“Ah.”
She goes to stuff it in her pack but pauses as something outside catches her attention. She peers out the window, setting off an alarm in my head.
Moving quickly to stand behind her, I look out onto the moonlit backyard but see nothing out of the ordinary. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She zips her bag and attempts to walk away, but I stop her. “The last time you did this, you saw the pennies in the portrait. What did you see this time?”
“It’s nothing important. I promise,” she assures me.
“Tell me, Carina, or we’re going to have a problem.”
She blows out a breath. “Fine. But it’s stupid.” She wipes at her brow. “The day you came and stood out there with my sister, I watched you. I saw you kiss her under the oak tree. You’ve never kissedmelike that.”
“What?” I frown.
“You smiled at her, then you kissed her. Gentle. Sweet. Like you cared for her.”
