Jasper, an equal opportunity hugger, crawled from Tess’s lap to Levi’s.
“It’s not your fault,” Levi told Tess. “Your husband is a big bag of dicks.”
She sniffed. “Yeah.” She stared up at the ceiling. “Today Peyton got mad at me when I wouldn’t let Jasper drive her home from day care, when her bath was ‘too wet,’ and when I wouldn’t buy her shoes like her friend Skylar. And please do note that there is no Skylar.”
He laughed. “Sounds about right.”
Tess sighed. “Not that I’d change a single thing about my precious girl, but sometimes her bedtime is my favorite time of the day. No, scratch that. Her falling asleep is my favorite time of day.”
“Hate to break it to you, but she probably never went to sleep tonight. She just pretends, and then she goes under the covers with a flashlight and reads.”
Tess smiled. “I know. She thinks reading past her bedtime is an act of rebellion. It hasn’t yet occurred to her that her flashlights never seem to run out of batteries.”
He smiled. “You’re a good mom, Tess.”
She blinked in surprise, looking unbearably touched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” she whispered and cleared her throat. “And you’re a good uncle. I know she wakes you up every morning. I know she gets into your things and makes you have tea parties, and you never complain. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re such a good male role model, when her dad can’t love her enough to do right by her.”
“He’s an idiot.” He shrugged. “And she’s an easy kid to love.”
Tess nodded, then laughed. “Scary how easy it is, even if half the time I’m pretty sure she needs an exorcism.”
“Maybe it’s a female thing.”
She chucked a pillow at his face and it landed with the accuracy only an older sister could execute.
THE NEXT MORNING, Levi asked everyone to meet in the kitchen at the table at eight A.M. sharp. He was there with copies of his presentation and an open laptop, ready to start the slide show. Jasper sat at his side, clearly hoping the show included breakfast.
Levi’s mom and dad showed up two minutes past the hour.
Tess came strolling in fifteen minutes later. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I didn’t want to come.”
Levi didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to do this either. “Can everyone see my laptop screen?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Tess said. “I caught Mom and Dad ears to the wall, fully eavesdropping on you earlier. So chances are, they already know whatever it is you want to tell us.”
His mom glared at her beloved daughter. “That’s going to cost you my chocolate chip cookies.”
“I already ate them,” Tess said.
His mom looked at Levi. “I’m sorry. But you were on the phone and I was hoping it was with Jane.”
Levi drew a deep breath. Everyone in the house knew that the study was directly overhead. They also knew that if you put your ear to the wall behind him, the one with the doorway to the living room, you could clearly hear every word said in the study. “I was on work calls. For Cutler Analytics.”
“I know. It was very boring,” his mom said, looking disappointed. “Though I did hear you swearing.”
“I was swearing because your printer is ancient and prints a page a year. I’m buying you a new one.”
“We don’t need a new one,” his dad said. “That printer works just fine. A new one will only break. They don’t make things like they used to.”
“Dad, you have to shake the ink cartridge after every page you print.”
“So she’s a bit touchy, that’s all,” his dad grumbled. “She still has a lot of ink left in that cartridge—don’t replace it. Those fuckers are expensive. And I still don’t see why we couldn’t have done this in the study.”
“Or in the living room on the comfy couches,” his mom said.
“You don’t allow liquor on the couches,” Levi said, handing out glasses of orange juice. Then he grabbed the vodka from the freezer, pouring a healthy shot into the OJ glasses.
“It’s eight A.M.,” his mom said.
“Eight seventeen,” Levi said. “Which means that somewhere, it’s five seventeen. And a mimosa contains thirty-two percent of your suggested dose of vitamin C, so you’re welcome.” Then he pregamed by downing his.
His mom stared at him, looking worried. “It must be bad if my most well-behaved child is drinking so early.”
“Excuse me,” Tess said. “Most well-behaved child?”
“Honey, when you graduated and I went to have a little celebratory . . . ‘mimosa,’ my vodka was nothing but water.”
“Fine,” Tess allowed. “But Levi screwed up plenty too.”
“He was an angel,” his mom said.
Levi winced.
“Oh my God,” Tess said, tossing up her hands. “He’s no angel. You just never caught him at anything.”
True story. “Focus,” he said. He handed out the folders with the evidence of Cal’s creative accounting, along with Levi’s plan on how to steer the damaged ship without going under. “I’ve also sent each of you the digital file.”
“What is this?” his mom asked, flipping through the pages.
“It’s an accounting of where the store stands financially. I’ve run all the monthly and year-end reports, so what you’re looking at are the balance sheets for the different departments, all of which have their own bottom line, debt-to-income ratios, accounts receivables and payables, assets, and inventory orders.”
“Why does it look so much worse than last year?” his dad asked.
“Because it is worse than last year.” Levi paused. “Orders were placed for store inventory, large orders. The money left your account to pay for those orders, but we never received the inventory.”
“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Tess said. “Cal was in charge of all of that . . .” She gasped softly. “Oh my God.”
His dad ran a hand down his face. “Fuck.”
“Hank!” his mother gasped.
His dad slugged his OJ down.
Jasper farted. At least Levi was pretty sure it was Jasper.
Tess looked like she wanted to throw up. Instead, she also drank. Swallowed. Pounded her chest. Then pointed at Levi. “Are you telling me that the lying son of a bitch I’m still married to was stealing from Mom and Dad to fund his new life with his girlfriend on some gorgeous island near Bali that he could never find the time to take me to?”
He nodded grimly. “It looks like he was creating invoices for fictitious accounts to funnel the money to himself.”
“Fictitious accounts?” his mom asked.
“Yeah, there are a bunch. One of them is called Buffy Slater.”
His mom drank her glass down.
“What?” his sister shrieked and leapt to her feet. “Buffy Slater is the babysitter’s name! We need to sue. We need to call the police! We need to kick his ass!”
“Yes,” Levi said, pouring her another drink, nudging it toward her. “All of that, and not necessarily in that order.”