31. Charlotte Crystal Clear
Charlotte Crystal Clear
Work had been so busy today that I had barely had time to obsess about the fact that, this close to Bill’s first pretrial conference, discovery should be coming in any minute. Oliver had texted me earlier: Nothing yet.
Yet somehow, between setting up a group disability policy for a doctor’s office, quoting a huge car dealership’s health insurance, lunch with Gabe and the owner of three hundred apartments we were trying to woo, and an afternoon of playing catch-up on emails and a few walk-ins, I had managed to check out something I was avoiding. It was just a chat room, one of those simple things that I had come across while—dangerously—googling “Bill Sitterly.” And sure, I had found furious messages from multi-multimillionaires who had lost one of their millions. But I also found notes from retired couples who had given Bill their entire retirement and lost everything. Men going back to work as greeters at Walmart. Women going back to doing hair despite the arthritis crippling their fingers.
It was a horrible feeling. I thought about Alice, about how she’d seen me in the bank that day, and wanted to help. And I suddenly got the feeling that I wanted to help too. Maybe it wasn’t my responsibility, necessarily, to give these people back what they had lost. But I began to feel that way.
I was trying to shake the heaviness I felt on my drive home, the thoughts running through my head that I did not want to have. The town was aflutter with the idea that Bill was innocent. But was it enough? What if he went to jail anyway? What if he had been framed so well that he took the fall for something he didn’t do? And, worst of all, what if he was lying to me? What if he was guilty? I had been so great at pushing those thoughts away that they took my breath away as they all flooded in now.
If that was the case, I would never get my money back. Never get my house back. Iris and I would really, truly have to start over. And, while my job at Montoya & Sons was getting us by, if I had to make a full-on fresh start, it had to be in New York where everyone wasn’t talking about my family. I didn’t want Iris to have to leave her friends. But it was the only way. I could get a job with Bradley, make a new start for us, pay those people back—at least the ones who had lost everything. I probably couldn’t fix everyone’s problems, but I could fix some.
I would say it was a weird or coincidental time for Bradley to call, but wasn’t that what life was like? You thought of someone, and they appeared in line behind you in the grocery store. You wanted to go on a trip to the Caribbean, and suddenly all you saw was pictures of boats in clear water. (Side note: I desperately missed being the person planning those vacations.)
I hit the phone button on my steering wheel—I would never again take having my own car for granted—and said, “Well, hello. Have you called to beg me to come work for you?”
I don’t know how I pulled off such a cocky tone when I was feeling so low.
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“Seriously?” This could be an answered prayer.
“I’m really calling to ask you if you’ve heard of the Capstone Fund.”
I racked my brain. “Is that Dan Isaacs’s fund?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, yeah. I’ve heard of it, but I’m not, like, up to date on it or anything.”
“Do you know if Bill invested with Dan?”
I blew out my breath, trying to exhale the butterflies filling my stomach. They were in-between butterflies, butterflies of thinking something either really great or really horrible is coming next and not being sure which. “I honestly don’t know, Bradley. But I know he and Dan are friends, so I would think it’s highly possible. Why?”
Please be good news. Please be good news.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t even know if this is true. But I’ve heard rumblings today that the SEC has launched an investigation into them.”
“But, like, a secret investigation?”
“For now, yeah. But I’m just wondering if Bill was caught up with them if there are dots to connect there.”
Please, Lord, let this be their fault and not his .
Bill had already called me today, using twenty of his phone minutes instead of ten. So I couldn’t be sure if he would call tomorrow. I needed to ask him, but I didn’t know when that would happen. There was no way I could go see him tomorrow either. My day was slammed and, as much as I missed my husband, I couldn’t risk losing this job. So, at the stoplight, I texted Oliver: Capstone Fund.
“I so, so hope you’re right, Bradley. I’ll get his attorney to look into it.”
“Okay, but this did not come from me. I shouldn’t even know about this.”
“Of course,” I said. “And I am so appreciative of you putting yourself on the line for me like this.”
“For you,” he said. “Not Sitterly. I still can’t stand him, to be clear.”
I smiled. “Crystal clear.”
“Oh, and, Char?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m calling to tell you that I’ve asked around, and if you still need a job, I think I can give you one.”
“I’m sorry. What? Really?”
“Yeah. No one thinks you had anything to do with this.” He cleared his throat. “Charlotte, you didn’t, did you?”
I laughed incredulously. “Bradley! Bill didn’t even have anything to do with this. I’m so out of the game, I don’t even know if he’s investing in Capstone. No. I had nothing to do with this!” I instantly regretted saying how far out of the game I was. But, well, he knew that.
“I had to ask.” He paused. “Look, just keep me posted. Come up here, interview, meet the office staff.”
My eyes filled with hot tears of gratitude and stress and horror. Gratitude that he would help me. Stress that I might actually have to do this. And horror that I might have to live for years without Bill. On the bright side, I did know that, if he had to stay in jail, they would likely relocate him to New York if I moved. My stomach began to hurt. How was that the bright side?
“Thank you. Seriously. I’ll call you next week.”
“I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything between now and then.”
I hung up the phone as I pulled into the driveway. I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. I had so much to process, so much to figure out. But for now, it was my week to do laundry. So I walked upstairs hoping to find my daughter. I wanted a big hug—and maybe a little help with the folding.