I reach across the table, cover her hand with mine. “You were trying to do the right thing without losing everything. I understand that better than anyone.”
Kate’s eyes are bright. She blinks rapidly, looking away. “God. Don’t be nice to me. I can’t handle nice right now.”
“Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”
She laughs and pulls her hand back to wipe at her eyes. “Fine. But I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu. Dad cut me off.”
“So I heard.”
We’re quiet for a moment. Kate finishes her drink and signals for another.
“How’s Mom?” I ask. I’d called her earlier and spoken briefly. She’d told me she loved me and then said she had to go.
“Holding on.” Kate’s expression shifts, something softer underneath the sharpness. “She’s stronger than we give her credit for. I think in some ways, she’s relieved. No more pretending.”
“Has she said anything about—” I gesture vaguely at myself. At the situation.
“About you and Jamie?” Kate tilts her head. “She said, and I quote, ‘At least one of my children has found someone who makes them happy. Even if the timing is inconvenient.’”
I hide a smile.
“She’s always liked you best.” Kate says it without resentment. “And I think she’s ready to be done. With the lies, with the performance, with all of it. Dad’s the one who can’t let go.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No and I haven’t seen him since Mom’s birthday.” Kate’s mouth twists. “He’s never going to forgive me. I’ve made my peace with that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She pauses. “Though I suspect you’re about to be in the same boat. After that interview, he’s not going to forgive you either.”
“Probably not.”
“How do you feel about that?”
I consider the question. A year ago, the thought of my father’s permanent disapproval would have gutted me. The Crane legacy, the weight of three generations was the foundation I’d built my entire identity on.
Now it feels like a house I’ve finally walked out of.
“I feel fine,” I say. “I didn’t expect that. But I do.”
Kate smiles, a real one this time. “Good. You deserve it.”
Her second drink arrives. She takes a sip.
“There’s something else you should know. I’ve been hearing things—from friends in the DOJ, people who track these situations.” She lowers her voice. “Arrests are coming. Soon. Warren for certain. Probably Dad too.”
I nod slowly. I’m not surprised. After last night’s interview, after I said I’d cooperate fully with any investigation, the dominoes were always going to fall.
“When?”
“Weeks, not months. Maybe sooner.” Kate watches my face. “Are you ready?”
“No, I don’t think I can be.” I turn my water glass in my hands.
“No,” Kate says quietly. “Neither am I, but I think it was inevitable.”
The restaurant has gotten busier around us. I can hear the lunch crowd filling in, voices rising, the clatter of plates. Through the carved screen, I catch glimpses of the main dining room: well-dressed people eating expensive food. My world, once. Still my world, maybe. Just different now.
