The Unsent Appeal novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Friend of the Family

Briana introduces Rose to her future in-laws as a family friend; Dean warns her off and her mother offers five thousand dollars to stay away, until Rose mentions their father.

The house in Wellesley had white columns and a circular drive.

I paid the rideshare driver and stood at the foot of the front steps in the gray dress my mother had asked for.

Through the glass I could see a long table and a vase of white hydrangeas.

I had helped pay for this house, I thought, and for the flowers on its table.

Briana opened the door before I could ring.

She was wearing a pale green dress and a diamond I had never seen. She hugged me quickly and spoke into my ear.

"Please be normal. Please."

"Hello to you too," I said.

She pulled back and smiled for the people behind her, and her whole voice went high and bright.

"Everyone, this is Rose. She's an old family friend."

She smiled at me with all her teeth.

"She's been traveling for work, so I haven't seen her in forever."

A family friend.

She said it easily, and her smile did not move.

A man in a gray cardigan came forward with his hand out.

He had brown hair, round glasses and an open, slightly worried face.

"Finley," he said. "I'm so glad you could come. Briana said you were practically family."

"I'm glad to be here," I said, and shook his hand, because he deserved a straight answer from somebody.

His mother stood behind him in cream silk, and his father at the end of the hall with a glass of juice.

"Finley's parents," Briana said. "Mr. and Mrs. Prescott."

Mrs. Prescott took my hand in both of hers.

"We're so delighted by this family," she said. "Honest, warm, close."

"After the families some of Finley's friends marry into, it's such a relief."

My mother appeared beside her with a tray of coffee.

She looked at me for exactly as long as it took to smile, and then she looked at the tray.

At the table, Briana put me at the far end, next to the empty chair that had been set out for Dean.

Finley took the seat across from me on purpose.

"Where were you traveling?" he asked.

"Denver. I sell packaging for a living, so mostly warehouses."

"That sounds more honest than what I do," he said, and Mrs. Prescott laughed.

I liked him, and that was going to be a problem.

Dean came in late, in a navy blazer, and kissed our mother's cheek.

He shook Mr. Prescott's hand and sat down beside me without once looking at my face.

"Rose," he said, to the salt. "Long flight?"

"Long week."

Under the table his shoe pressed my ankle, a short hard tap.

I moved my foot.

When the plates were cleared, he stood up.

"Come see the study, Rose. Dad's old books are in there."

I had no choice but to follow.

The study was small and dark, with a window onto the garden.

He shut the door.

"Don't do anything," he said.

"What would I do?"

"Don't talk about the accident, don't talk about the plea, don't tell Finley's mother what you are."

"What am I, Dean?"

"A felon," he said. "With a record. You know exactly how that sounds to people like that."

"I know what I have," I said.

My voice was steady. My hands, I noticed, were not, and I put them behind my back.

"Then know what you owe," he said. "You've been part of this family for twenty-nine years. Act like it."

"I stopped the transfer yesterday."

He went still.

"Mom said the payment didn't come through this morning," he said, slowly. "She was crying."

"It didn't bounce. I canceled it."

His mouth tightened. For a second I saw the boy who used to take the blame for broken windows by pointing at me.

Then the door opened, and my mother slipped in with a smile pinned to her face.

"Dean, honey, Mr. Prescott wants to show you the garage plans."

Dean left without looking back.

My mother took my elbow and steered me through the kitchen into the pantry, and closed that door too.

She took an envelope out of her cardigan pocket.

It was thick, the kind a bank gives you.

"Five thousand," she whispered. "Just until the wedding, sweetheart."

"It's only six months. Stay home, stay quiet, and we'll make it up to you, I swear."

I looked at the envelope, and at the hand holding it, which was perfectly steady.

"You're paying me to stay away from my own sister's wedding."

"I'm asking you to be the bigger person. You always have been."

I thought of my father's red flannel against my face, and of the garage that smelled of cedar.

"Dad wanted you to tell the truth, Mom."

She went white to the lips.

The envelope dropped to the pantry floor between us, and neither of us bent to pick it up.

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