barbecue.
I sat across from him at my parents’ dining room table, the same table where I used to finish homework while my brother Caleb smashed windows and somehow ended up being called “misunderstood.” Caleb stood behind Dad with his arms folded, looking pale but strangely relaxed, like he already knew someone else had been selected to sink in his place.
I stared at the folder Dad slid toward me.
Loan documents. Overdue notices. A warning about a lien against Caleb’s construction company. A personal guarantee tied to my parents’ home as collateral.
My mother, Elaine, twisted a napkin nervously in her hands. “Your father and I could lose everything.”
I looked at the first page again. “Why is my name on this?”