I wrapped my arms around him.
“She knew.”
“How?”
I unfolded Mom’s note.
Please be gentle with your brother.
He is sick.
Greg stared at the words.
“She still made soup for me?”
“Beef barley.”
I almost smiled.
“Six containers downstairs. Every one says FOR GREG.”
He cried even harder.
We stayed at the kitchen table until nearly sunrise.
Greg confessed everything.
The gambling.
The debts.
The lies.
The business.
The college money.
The forged signature.
“I always thought I could win it back,” he said. “That’s the lie. One more bet and everything gets fixed.”
Around three, he looked at the cash box.
“Beth. I only need twenty thousand.”
I said nothing.
“Just enough to pay those men. Then I’ll get treatment.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“They know where my children are.”
“Vanessa and the kids are coming to Pittsburgh with me.”
He opened his mouth.
