Chapter 13: Queens

Her mother opened the door of the row house in her apron.

She saw Lena's face and the folded paper in Lena's fist, and she put one hand over her mouth.

"Where is he?" Lena said.

"Sweetheart..."

"Where is Dad, Mom?"

"In the kitchen. He hasn't eaten since Tuesday."

Lena walked past her down the narrow hall.

Her father sat at the table with the ledger book shut in front of him and his glasses folded on top of it.

He looked up and saw what she was holding.

He did not ask what it was.

His whole face seemed to give way at once.

"I was going to tell you," he said.

"When?"

"I tried on Tuesday."

"You said we'd sort it out in the morning."

"I didn't know how to start."

She put the page on the table and flattened it with her palm.

She turned it over to the four lines in his handwriting.

"Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

Her father looked at the table.

"Eleven years ago your mother was sick," he said.

"The insurance wouldn't cover the second round. My company kept the books on the Karras docks.

"It was easy. A little here and there. I told myself I would put it back."

"You never put it back."

"No."

"Mom knew about the money."

"Not the sum. I told her I took a second job."

Her mother had come into the doorway.

She stood with her fingers pressed to her lips, tears running down her face.

"Tell her the rest."

"Mom, let him talk."

"He's been waiting to say it for six months."

Her father's hands were shaking.

"After the wedding," he said, "I got a letter.

"The old man knew everything. He said I could pay with a prison term or with a favor.

"I went to his house. He gave me a chair and a glass of wine, and he asked me one question."

"What?"

"Whether my daughter's husband had a marriage license."

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