Page 4 of Hidden Memories

When we leave, I plan on selling my wedding ring,which unfortunately, as is Greek tradition, is only a simple band and it’s not worth more than a few grand. I have some other jewelry to sell as well if need be. If we’re careful, it will fund our lives until probate goes through, and I’ve been stuffing small amounts of my allowance in a piggy bank for a rainy day.

I don’t want my father to know this wedding ring and other gifts will end up in a pawnshop somewhere. His daughter stooping so low would humiliate him to no end.

Dad’s words are a constant affront. “If you think I’m going to continue to support you financially while you wait for your inheritance, while you make some harebrained move like taking my only grandchild to some Podunk town, you better think again.”

Thankfully, I don’t have to explain I don’t want another cent from this man because our conversation is interrupted by the front gate ringing to my cell phone. I take the phone to the bathroom. The moving van should be here, and I still need to throw my creams and hair products into a suitcase. I put the phone on speaker and set to task.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Petras?”

“Yes… Coastline Transport?”

“No, ma’am. It’s the FBI.”

What?I glance up in the mirror and catch sight of my father. Our gazes connect. My eyes are wide open with surprise.

His aren’t.

I spin. Why isn’t he surprised the FBI is here?

I take the phone off speaker and put it to my ear. “How can I help you?”

“We’re here because of an investigation involving yourlate husband, Nicholas Petras. We’d like to come in and speak to you face-to-face.”

“Sure. Of course.”

I hang up and buzz the gate open.

My father and I have about three minutes before they’re up the drive and at the door.

“You have one last chance to be honest with me, Katinka.” My dad is calmer now but still more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “Are you leaving because you blew the whistle? Tell me the truth. I need to know what you told them about Nicholas.”

“What do you mean?”

He annunciates and repeats himself slowly as if I don’t speak English. “Did. You. Blow. The. Whistle?”

I’m so confused.

He tries a different question as if it will make more sense. “Are you moving house? Or are you fleeing, Kat? I know you were always trying to undermine your husband. Telling stories about him… did you tell another story? To the FBI?”

I shake my head wildly, not believing what I’m hearing.

The FBI is here to investigate Nic? And my father thinks I set it up?

In the moments that follow, my dreams are slashed into twenty thousand pieces. My late husband is being investigated for fraud at Pacific Dreams Developments. My father thinks I brought this trouble upon his company. Nic’s assets are being frozen. Those of Dad’s company, too.

As the FBI unfolds the story of my fate, making it clear this investigation will go on for months, I twist the circle of gold on my finger until the skin is sore. This ring is no longer our ‘getting by’ money. It’s our life insurance.

Hours later, movers hanging back out of the kindness of their hearts, we finally load up the van.

After midnight, the last box is in our dusty but furnished Mission farmhouse. I paid for a deposit and one month in advance out of money I’d been holing away from cash Dad has given me since Nic died. Thankfully,Podunkis cheap. But it isn’t free.

I find the sheets in a box and hastily make up the queen-sized bed in my room; I’m far too tired to do a separate one for Theo. He’d only end up in here anyway. I want him here, too. Thankfully, my little boy falls asleep out of pure exhaustion.

But I’m running on fumes and swiping frantically, thinking up ways I can find even just a small job to keep us going until the investigation is over. God willing we actually get any money when it’s over.

I have no transferable skills. The only things I know are art and horses; both are poorly paid. Nicholas worked hard to isolate me over the years from anyone I had a real relationship with, so favors would be nearly impossible. I have no extended family.

---