Chapter 12: Everything You Have

"I said put it down," Janie said again, quietly.

I held the report against my chest.

"You left it on the desk."

"I did." She shut the door behind her.

"I wanted you to find it. I've been waiting two weeks for you to look at anything in this room."

"You're his daughter."

"I'm his daughter."

She said it flatly.

"Tell me what the ledger doesn't say," I said.

"My mother cashed every check and never once knocked on this door."

Janie's voice shook for the first time.

"She told me his name three weeks before she died."

For a second I saw her at twenty-seven, in a hospital chair, holding a hand.

I made myself stop seeing it.

"So you came here."

"In May, with her box. Her letters, a photo of him with me on a dock, and a test I paid for myself."

She pointed at the paper in my hands.

"I stood on this porch and rang the bell. Your mother answered. She knew who I was before I opened my mouth."

"What did you want?"

"Everything."

The word sat between us.

"I didn't want money. He's been throwing money at us my whole life. I wanted what you had."

She counted it off on her fingers, steadily.

"The room. The car. A seat at the table beside him. The project you love. The title on the door."

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