Chapter 4 - THE SISTER’S ACCOUNT
"How dare you?" Sarah hissed, stepping straight into the entryway before Thomas could block her. She was wearing the same expensive designer dress she had worn to the garden party, but the hem was now stained with gravy from the table Thomas had overturned. "Mom is in the emergency room right now, Thomas! Her blood pressure hit 190 because of that little stunt you pulled!"
Thomas stood perfectly still, his hand still resting on the brass doorknob. "If her blood pressure is that high, Sarah, it’s probably from the three plates of prime rib she ate before I arrived. Get out of my house."
"Your house?" Greg stepped forward, his chest puffed out beneath his polo shirt. Greg worked as a regional manager for a logistics firm, a job Thomas had secured for him through his restaurant suppliers three years ago. "This house wouldn't even exist if your father hadn't given you that five-thousand-dollar loan back when you were nineteen to buy that first sandwich cart!"
Thomas looked at Greg, then at Sarah. The memory of that five-thousand-dollar loan was a favorite weapon in the Carpenter family arsenal. They brought it up at every Thanksgiving, every anniversary, every family milestone.
"That loan," Thomas said softly, his voice dropping into a tone that made Greg step back an inch. "That loan was paid back with twelve percent interest within six months, Greg. And since then, I've paid off Sarah's college tuition debt, I’ve funded two of your car leases, and I’ve given you a ten-percent discount on every corporate event your company hosted at my diners. If we’re doing accounts, Sarah, you owe me roughly eighty-four thousand dollars. Would you like me to have Alan send you the spreadsheet?"
Sarah blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "That’s different! We’re family, Thomas! Family helps each other! You don't humiliate your parents in front of the entire extended line because of a little old-fashioned discipline!"
"Old-fashioned discipline?" Thomas stepped onto the porch, pulling the front door nearly shut behind him so his children wouldn't hear the venom in his sister's voice. "Your son Leo was filming my six-year-old crying while he cleaned up after you. Did you see that, Sarah? Did you think that was family helping each other?"
"They’re just boys being boys—"
"If Leo ever puts a camera in my kids' faces again, Sarah, I won't just break his phone. I’ll cancel the contract with your husband’s firm," Thomas said. "The catering business uses Greg’s logistics line for ninety percent of our deliveries. That contract is worth forty thousand a year to his branch. Do you want to see how fast his regional manager title disappears when that volume drops to zero?"
Greg’s face drained of color. He reached out, grabbing Sarah’s elbow, his aggressive posture evaporating instantly. "Sarah... come on. Let’s go. He’s not in his right mind tonight."
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"No, Greg, I’m finally in my right mind," Thomas said, looking at his sister. "You spent years looking down at me because I didn't go to an Ivy League school, because I had my kids with women I didn't stay with, because my life didn't look like a church flyer. But you lived on my dime while you did it. The ride is over. Tell Mom and Dad that the movers will be at the Wayzata house on the first of the month. If their things aren't packed, they’ll be on the curb."
He stepped back inside and clicked the deadbolt into place before Sarah could answer. From the kitchen, the smell of scorching beef reminded him of his real priorities. He walked back to the stove, flipped the burgers with a steady hand, and felt a strange, deep sense of liberation settling into his chest. For twenty years, he had been the pillars of a temple that was dedicated to his own unworthiness. Tonight, he was letting the roof fall.
