Chapter 9 - The Thanksgiving Apology
Word traveled through the Porter family like wildfire.
By Wednesday afternoon, Uncle Roy had called Hank three times. Cousin Sarah, who had watched Megan slap me across the Thanksgiving table without saying a word, sent a four-paragraph text message apologizing for not intervening.
The narrative of "greedy, childless Ivy picking on her poor sister" had disintegrated completely.
At four o'clock, Megan showed up at my Brookside shop alone.
She didn't storm in. She walked through the front door looking small, wearing an oversized gray hoodie, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. The shop was empty; Chloe had already left for the day, and I was finishing cleaning the stainless steel grooming tubs with disinfectant.
The bell above the door jingled. I turned around, holding a spray bottle and a rag.
"We sold the boat," Megan said quietly, standing by the reception counter.
I didn't answer. I wiped down the chrome faucet.
"Wade took sixteen thousand for it this afternoon from a guy in Norman," she continued, her voice trembling. "He borrowed four thousand from his brother to make up the difference. He wired the full twenty thousand to your account an hour ago. The bank said it will clear by tomorrow morning."
"Good," I said, tossing the rag into the sink. "Then Wade doesn't have to worry about the sheriff."
Megan stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looked around the shop—at the bright, clean walls, the display of high-end leashes, the framed business certifications.
"Mom is staying in our guest room," Megan said. "She won't stop crying. She keeps saying Dad ruined the family."
"Mom ruined the family, Megan," I said, leaning against the counter. "Mom is a thief. And you were her accomplice."
"I didn't know about the second mortgage, Ivy! I swear to God, I didn't know she stole from Dad!"
"You knew Tucker didn't have surgery," I said coldly. "You knew you didn't have twenty thousand dollars in medical bills. You looked me in the eye, told me your son was suffering, and took my money so Wade could keep his toys."
Megan covered her face with her hands and began to sob. "I was drowning, Ivy. Wade’s debts were piling up, the collectors were calling my work, and Mom always told me, 'Don't worry, Ivy has more than she knows what to do with.' She made it seem like you owed it to us. Because you were alone."
"I was never alone," I said, stepping toward her until she was forced to look at me. "I had my dignity. I had my self-respect. And I had a family I thought loved me. But you and Mom didn't see a sister. You saw an ATM that didn't complain."
Megan reached out, trying to touch my arm, but I stepped back out of reach.
"I’m sorry," she whispered. "For slapping you. For everything. Please don't cut me out, Ivy. Tucker loves you."
"Tucker is an innocent kid," I said. "I will always make sure Tucker has what he needs. But you and I are done, Megan. You pay your own bills now. You handle Wade’s debts. And if you ever raise your hand to me again, I won't walk out to my car. I will put you in a courtroom."
May you like
She stood there for another minute, waiting for some sign of softening, some hint of the big sister who had always bailed her out. When none came, she turned and walked slowly out the door, the bell chiming behind her like a funeral toll.
***
