18. June
JUNE
Meredith moves to the kitchen window. She’s let the silence stretch until it’s almost a dare to break it. Richard, still hovering near the island, collects himself in little pieces—straightening the edge of the dish towel, aligning a stack of boxes, refusing to meet our eyes.
It’s the waiting that does it. That, and Meredith’s refusal to blink.
When she finally speaks, her voice is smooth and certain, cutting straight to the marrow.
She finally sees her opening, the chance to figure out what really happened.
And where I don’t want to kick a dog when it’s down, she seizes the opportunity, capitalizing on his weakness.
“You knew about Everwell’s tactics, didn’t you? ”
He doesn’t answer right away, but there’s a flicker—shoulders hunching, lips going thin.
But she doesn’t give him an inch. “Let’s be clear.
The feds indicted Everwell for bribing council members and for trying to coerce or blackmail them so the company could buy out the Shack and Birdie’s.
There are court filings. Depositions. It hasn’t hit the news, but I know what I saw here, Richard.
I know you were in on all of that. And because you were married to Mom, you had access to every private negotiation.
So, why don’t you tell us how you were involved? ”
Silence, longer this time. The second hand on the oven clock marks out every beat.
I take a seat at the table and lean forward on my elbows, watching Richard for a tell.
He doesn’t disappoint.
His hands are braced on the back of the chair. He looks—God, he looks old. The kind of old that seeps into your bones when nothing is left except regrets.
But Meredith stands her ground, arms folded, back rigid. “We’re not here for dramatics. Or pity. I want the truth about what happened—start to finish.”
I expect him to fight. He always has before—sidestepping, deflecting, changing the subject like a magician’s flourish. But this time, he just…sags. The shell of him crumples, and I see the man my mother must’ve found in the embers of her old life, a man too exhausted for deception.
He pulls out the chair. His voice, when it comes, is a whisper. “You want the truth. All of it?”
Meredith doesn’t move. “Yes.”
Something passes between them—old wounds, old debts.
He glances at me, then back at the boxed-up fragments of the kitchen.
“I know you don’t believe this, but all I ever wanted was to make sure Eleanor was taken care of.
That the legacy didn’t get lost to the highest bidder.
But I wasn’t blind. I knew the developers would come back eventually.
Everwell just happened to be the one with the most cash and the least conscience. ”
Meredith pounces, not letting him build a case for himself. “You attended council meetings. You lobbied for rezoning, even as you pretended it would ‘protect’ the shoreline. And when the bribes started, you didn’t blow the whistle. You let them operate in your own backyard. Why?”
There’s a twitch at his jaw, the only defiance he’s got left. “Because I thought I could control it,” he mutters. “That I could steer it so the family didn’t get hurt. I was wrong.”
The admission hangs in the kitchen, sticky as old resin.
I watch his hands; they’re trembling now, just slightly, as he knots them together above the wood.
Meredith circles back, relentless. “What about the art forgery? The set-up for June and Ashton. Did you know about that?”
His eyes shut for a second, lashes fluttering.
“I knew they were going after Ashton. He was the public face, the one with the money backing the Shack. They figured if they could torpedo him, the Shack would collapse, and they’d buy it for pennies on the dollar.
” He opens his eyes, finally focusing on me.
“I never thought you’d get caught up in it, June.
I honestly didn’t think the Shack would survive reopening. ”
I want to believe him. I want to scream at the same time.
Meredith presses on, her voice measured but icy. “But you didn’t stop it. Not the bribes, not the slander, not when you watched the feds slap handcuffs on June’s wrists. So, either you didn’t care, or you were in so deep you couldn’t dig your way out.”
His fingers clench, nails printing half-moons into his palm. “That’s not fair,” he says, but I hear the wobble under the protest. “I tried?—”
“You tried what? Silence?” Meredith is dangerously close to losing her patience. “Hoping it would blow over? Because from where I stood, it looked like you were content to let everyone else take the fall while you cashed the checks. And believe me, I saw the checks!”
When he bows his head, the hair at his temples—once so meticulously styled—hangs loose, silver and wild. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to fix it without blowing up the entire family. Your mother was already so sick. I couldn’t risk bringing scandal to her doorstep.”
My chest aches—pity and rage braided together. “So you let me rot instead?”
He looks at me, and for the first time, I see the tears. Not dramatic, not even visible unless you know what to look for. Just…there. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head slowly, sadly. “I know that sorry isn’t enough.”
Meredith’s face is lined with frustration and years’ worth of pent-up resentment, all of it simmering at the surface. “Keep going. Did Everwell approach you directly? Did you ever take a dime or sign off on a deal?”
He shakes his head, desperate. “I never took a penny. Not one. Not for myself. But I did broker meetings—small ones, over coffee, sometimes just a phone call. Town council, a few board members. The intention was always to protect the island’s interests.
That’s how they put it. But as the stakes went up, so did the tactics.
By the time it got ugly, there wasn’t a way to back out without consequences. ”
The room feels smaller, the air thinner.
I want to spit the words, but Meredith is in full cross-exam mode—a force of nature.
“And you still said nothing. Even after June’s arrest. Even when the island nearly turned against us.”
He nods, shame rolling off him in waves.
“I thought it would stop. That once the Feds ran out of evidence, it would all just fade away. She wasn’t guilty, so I never figured they could frame her for anything.
And I thought Ashton would just pull out instead of doubling down.
But it kept spiraling. People got hurt. I lost control.
” He sighs, the sound full of regret and remorse.
“The only thing I ever wanted was for Eleanor to have peace. For you all to have some kind of future here. But I failed. At every turn.”
Meredith stands motionless, anchoring the moment. “So, you admit you covered for them.”
“No, I never covered for them. But I didn’t fight them, either.” His hands are fisted on the table, wrists white with strain. “I know how that sounds. I know what it means. If you want to hate me, that’s your right. But that’s the truth.”
I look at Meredith, startled at the way her jaw softens; it’s not much, but it’s enough to register.
We’ve been here before. Not this exact kitchen, not this exact heartbreak, but the place where you see the shape of a man shrunk by his failures.
The place where confession is the only currency left, only Richard is alive to make his. We had to get Dad’s post-mortem.
But there’s one piece I can’t let go. “You knew they were framing Ashton. You had to have seen the smoke. Did you ever think the person they’d hurt most would be me?”
He lifts his face, red-eyed and raw. “No. Truthfully, I believed he’d pull his financial backing to avoid the mess completely.
Worst-case scenario, they’d ruin him financially, maybe even get him barred from certain boards or associations.
I never believed they’d come after you. They didn’t even know about your marriage.
Nobody did. Ashton kept that locked down tighter than Fort Knox. ”
Something inside me cracks at that. The secrecy—mine, his, Mom’s, all of us. How it never protected anyone, not really. In the end, all it did was hurt the people we loved the most.
Meredith takes a breath, shoring up for the final push. “Then why didn’t you go to the authorities yourself? Report what you knew, the minute you realized how deep it went?”
Richard swallows. “Cowardice. There’s no other word for it.”
Finally, Meredith lets her arms fall to her sides, voice lower but no less sure. “Thank you for telling the truth. You let this go on too long. But at least, finally, you’re owning your piece.”
Richard nods slowly. “I didn’t want to leave it like this. But it seems I don’t have a choice.”
I watch him for another heartbeat, the way his fingers twitch, the way his eyes linger on the empty mug in front of him. The way he can’t—will never—look at the future without Mom in it.
We’ve all lost something. But at least the wreckage is honest now.
I let myself look—really look—at Meredith. She’s done what she came to do. And maybe, for once, that’s enough.
For a second, I wonder what Mom would make of all this.
I picture her at the head of the table, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, smile radiating warmth no matter how cold the world got. She’d probably just pat the chair beside her, pour the tea, and wait.
I do the same.
Richard rests both hands flat on the table, as if anchoring himself to the last familiar thing in the world.
His voice, when it comes, is not just confession but surrender.
“If you still have any questions about anything, ask,” he says, gutted but not gone.
“I’ll answer. I need to close this chapter knowing things are done. ”
There’s no satisfaction in victory.
I think of Dad, too, how he could never truly air out his own secrets. Maybe this is the best we get—a little honesty, in the end.
Everything else is paused, waiting for forgiveness, maybe. Or just for the next shoe to drop. And I wait, too, letting the hush of the kitchen soak into my bones.
No one moves.