That was worse.
Nine minutes of quiet.
At 10:15, Diane’s white SUV skidded into my driveway so fast it hopped the curb.
She came through my front door without knocking. She didn’t even look at me. She went straight past me into the kitchen, where Greg was pouring coffee with his hair still wet, and grabbed his arm with both hands.
“You have to stop her!” she screamed. “Make her take it back!”
Coffee sloshed over the rim of Greg’s mug and splashed on the floor.
“Mom. Mom! What? Stop what?”
“She sent me money!” Diane’s voice cracked right down the middle. “Thirty-nine thousand, nine hundred dollars! It’s just sitting in my account! And a lawyer! A lawyer sent me a letter, Greg!”
She shoved her phone at his face.
He took it. He read the screen. I watched his lips move a little.
Loan repaid in full.
No ownership interest of any kind.
