My own son allowed his wife to throw me out of the wedding I paid for, without imagining the letter I was carrying in my bag.

He took a sip and sat down opposite me.

For a few seconds neither of them spoke.

Finally, Jacob placed the cup on the table.

—Amanda is very upset.

—I can imagine.

—She says you humiliated her in front of everyone.

I stared at him without blinking.

—Did I humiliate her?

—I’m not saying that…

—Jacob, I want you to answer a question. Who asked whom to leave the wedding?

He clenched his jaw.

—Amanda was upset.

—That doesn’t answer my question.

—Yes, she asked you to leave.

—And what did you do?

Jacob looked at the cup.

—I didn’t do anything.

-Exactly.

He rubbed his hands together.

—Mom, I didn’t come here to argue.

—So, why did you come?

He took a while to respond.

—I want you to withdraw the letter.

I felt a small bump on my chest.

—What do you know about that letter?

—Amanda says you have documents that could harm her family.

I watched him closely.

—Did he tell you that?

-Yeah.

—And you believed him?

Jacob raised his head.

“I don’t know what to think. Since last night, Mr. Bennett hasn’t stopped talking about contracts, and Patricia has asked that no more changes be made without authorization. Amanda is convinced you planned this all.”

—Plan what? That I would humiliate myself in front of two hundred people?

—No. But maybe you expected something like this to happen.

I looked at him as if he had just slapped me.

—Do you really think I wrote a letter so your wife would kick me out of the wedding?

—I don’t know, Mom.

That answer hurt me more than any accusation.

I opened the black book and placed it in front of him.

—Do you remember this?

Jacob frowned.

—Dad’s book.

-Yeah.

He ran his fingers over the cover.

—I always took it everywhere.

—Here I recorded our household expenses. But I also kept documents that I considered important.

I showed him the child’s drawing.

Jacob recognized him immediately.

His expression changed.

—I did this.

—You were seven years old.

He barely smiled.

—I said you were a superhero.

—And your father wrote that I should keep it.

Jacob remained silent.

For a moment, I saw the boy who sat with me on the kitchen floor.

Then I pointed to the page where Richard Cole’s name appeared.

The smile disappeared.

-What is this?

—A letter your father received seventeen years ago.

Jacob read the document.

Then he read it again.

—Why did Dad have a letter from Amanda’s father?

—That’s what I’m trying to find out.

My son turned the page and found the note about the loan Harold had given him.

Her face lost its color.

—I didn’t know Dad had written it down as a loan.

—Did you think it was a gift?

Jacob nodded slowly.

—He told me not to worry about returning it.

—He also said you could do it when you had financial stability.

My son left the book on the table.

—Are you telling me I still owe him money?

—I’m telling you that your father documented what they agreed upon. I’m not going to draw any conclusions before reviewing the documents.

Jacob got up and walked to the window.

—Why didn’t you tell me before?

I watched him sadly.

—Because I never asked you to give me anything back.

—Then why now?

—Because I’m trying to understand what part of our history I didn’t know.

Jacob turned towards me.

—Do you think Amanda married me for money?

The question hung in the air.

I could have answered yes.

I could have told him that the location of my table, the changes in the contracts, and Amanda’s words had made me suspicious.

But he didn’t have enough evidence to accuse her of that.

“I don’t know, son,” I replied. “And I’m not going to pretend I do.”

Jacob slumped down in the chair.

For a few minutes, he stared at the black book.

Finally, he spoke.

—Last night, after you left, Amanda received a call from her dad.

I remained motionless.

-What happened?

They argued. She asked him why her name appeared on the original vineyard contract. He told her not to talk about it in front of anyone.

—And then?

Jacob swallowed.

Amanda left the room crying. When she came back, she told me it was all your fault.

I felt the air in the kitchen getting heavier.

—What else did he tell you?

My son looked at me.

This time he didn’t look away.

—He told me that if his father had made any deal with Dad, I had to convince you not to review the documents.

I remained silent.

Jacob lowered his head.

—That’s why I came. I wanted you to leave the letter and forget everything.