Our parents had died in a highway accident six years earlier.
I knew that much.
A rainy night.
A wrong turn.
A collision.
Adults had always changed the subject when I asked for details.
“Dad was driving?” I asked.
“No,” Grace said quickly. “It wasn’t the accident that killed Mom and Dad.”
I let out a breath.
“This was before that. Dad was managing the depot when a serious mechanical problem was discovered in several vehicles.”
Arthur spoke quietly.
“He reported it.”
Grace looked at him.
“Eventually.”
Arthur accepted the correction.
“Yes.”
“Dad thought the company would blame him,” Grace continued. “There were arguments. Lawyers. Investigations. He lost his position.”
I stared at Arthur.
“You fired him?”
Arthur didn’t look away.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because at the time, I believed he had hidden maintenance reports.”
“Did he?”
Grace answered.
“Not exactly.”
That phrase again.
Not exactly.
Arthur folded his hands over his cane.
