Chapter 2: The Missing Money
Dad set his work bag on the floor.
“Nia, sweetheart, talk to me.””
I stepped toward him and turned my phone around.
“Look.””
He took it carefully, his eyes moving across the screen. At first, he looked confused. Then he scrolled through the transaction history, his thumb slowing when he reached the withdrawal.
His jaw tightened.
“How much was in there before?”” he asked.
“Two thousand three hundred and fifty-two dollars,” I said.
“I checked it last night.””
“And now?””
“Twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents.””
Dad looked at the screen again.
Then he turned toward Celeste.
“You took $2,340?””
The room became so quiet that I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
Celeste uncrossed her arms.
“Marcus, don't start.””
“I'm asking you a question.””
“I already explained it to Nia. There was a family emergency.””
Dad glanced at the MacBook box.
Then he looked back at her.
“A laptop is an emergency?””
Celeste's mouth opened, but no answer came.
The woman standing behind Dad stepped forward. Her name was Ms. Reynolds.
She had managed the accounting records for Dad's construction company for nearly seven years. I had seen her at company picnics and holiday dinners, usually carrying folders while the adults discussed things I wasn't supposed to understand.
She didn't look surprised by the argument.
That frightened me more than anything else.
“Marcus,” she said quietly, “I think you should see the report I brought.””
Celeste immediately turned toward her.
“Why are you here?””
Ms. Reynolds placed her dark-gray laptop on the dining table, several feet away from the sealed MacBook box.
“I came because you asked me to review the unusual transactions in the company accounts.””
Celeste let out a short, humorless laugh.
“This has nothing to do with me.””
Ms. Reynolds didn't respond.
Instead, she opened her laptop.
The screen lit up with a spreadsheet and a transaction summary. There were columns of dates, amounts, and transaction categories, but the individual recipients and account information were concealed.
At the top of the report was one large number.
*$68,420.*
Dad leaned closer.
“What is this?””
“The total value of the transactions currently under review,” Ms. Reynolds replied.
“They came from several company accounts over a period of time. I've separated them from ordinary operating expenses.””
Dad's face went still.
“Sixty-eight thousand four hundred and twenty dollars?””
“Yes.””
I looked from the screen to my father.
I had never seen him look that way before. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't even moving much.
He was reading.
And the longer he read, the more his expression seemed to close in on itself.
“These came from my company, too,” he said.
Celeste's hand dropped away from the birthday gift.
For a moment, she looked as though she might deny everything.
Then she noticed Ms. Reynolds watching her.
“You're making this sound criminal,” Celeste said.
“These are accounting entries. People move money around all the time.””
Ms. Reynolds folded her hands.
“Transfers require authorization. Some of the transactions in this report do not have the documentation I would expect to see.””
“Maybe you lost the paperwork.””
“I checked the archived records.””
“Then check again.””
“I did.””
Celeste turned to Dad.
“Are you seriously going to let her accuse me in front of your daughter?””
Dad didn't look away from the laptop.
“I'm trying to understand why money is missing from my daughter's savings account and why my accountant is showing me almost seventy thousand dollars in transactions she can't properly document.””
“Nothing is missing,” Celeste snapped.
“The money was used.””
“Used for what?””
She pointed at the MacBook box.
“For the family!””
Dad looked at the box again.
I watched him notice the silver ribbon, the birthday card, and the little bow Celeste had attached to the side. The box suddenly seemed absurdly small beside the laptop displaying the financial report.
He reached toward it but didn't touch it.
“Did you use Nia's money to buy this?””
Celeste's lips pressed together.
“I was going to explain everything.””
“When?””
“When the time was right.””
Dad finally looked directly at her.
“You emptied her savings account. What possible time could be more appropriate than now?””
Celeste's voice rose.
“You have no idea what I've been dealing with! I keep this house running. I manage everything while you're at work. I make sure Nia has clothes, food, birthday parties—”
“I never asked you to pay for this gift with her college money,” Dad interrupted.
“You don't ask me to do anything! You just expect me to handle everything!””
I flinched at the sudden volume.
Ms. Reynolds quietly shifted the laptop so Dad could see another page of the report.
“Marcus, there's something else.””
Celeste immediately stepped toward the table.
“No. That's enough.””
Ms. Reynolds stopped moving.
Dad noticed.
“What is it?””
“The company transactions aren't the only records I've been asked to review,” she said.
“There are several entries that may be connected to the same pattern.””
Celeste stared at her.
“You had no right to go through my personal business.””
“I haven't opened your personal accounts,” Ms. Reynolds replied.
“I'm referring to transactions recorded in company accounts.””
“Then stay out of everything else.””
Dad raised one hand.
“Celeste, stop.””
She turned toward him, breathing hard.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked less like the person who controlled every conversation in our house and more like someone trying to calculate how much everyone else knew.
Dad pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Nia,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, “I want you to save screenshots of your account history. Don't delete anything, and don't try to fix this yourself.””
I nodded.
He looked at Ms. Reynolds.
“Can you establish exactly where the company money went?””
“I can document the transfers I have access to. I won't speculate about the purpose or the final recipient until the records are verified.””
“Then verify them.””
Celeste laughed again, but this time the sound was thin.
“You're both acting like I've robbed you.””
Nobody answered her.
She looked at me, perhaps expecting me to soften the situation, to say I was sorry, or to tell Dad that she had meant well.
I couldn't.
All I could think about was the little account I had checked every night before bed. I had imagined using that money to buy textbooks, pay application fees, and move into a dorm room someday.
Now I wondered how many times Celeste had watched me save another twenty dollars while knowing she could take it whenever she wanted.
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he looked at Ms. Reynolds again.
“Show me the dates.””
May you like
She turned the laptop toward him.
And Celeste took one small step backward.
