“How do I know I’m not Claire again?”
“You don’t.”
She flinched.
I hated causing it.
I did not take the answer back.
“I can’t prove anything in one phone call,” I said. “I can tell you I see the pattern now. I can tell you I don’t want to repeat it. I understand that may not be enough.”
“It isn’t.”
My throat tightened.
“Okay.”
She looked almost surprised that I accepted it.
A voice called from outside her bedroom.
“Dinner in ten.”
Ellie glanced toward the door.
“My mother.”
Another voice followed.
“Ask about diversification.”
She closed her eyes.
“Dad.”
The door opened.
A man leaned into the room and looked at Ellie, then at the screen.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Parker.”
“Tom.”
“Annie.”
His expression shifted slightly at the name.
“Are your investments diversified?”
“Dad.”
“Yes,” I said. “Retirement accounts, investments, and a financial adviser who frightens me twice a year.”
Tom nodded.
“Good.”
