“Where’s fifty thousand dollars going to come from if his own accounts are bare?” Helen asked.

“Another high-interest loan,” I said.

“Or Mallory’s savings.”

The whole truth came down over the kitchen table with a heavy, unbending weight that made the room go completely still.

Spencer wasn’t meeting me on park paths or calling estate lawyers out of loyalty to his mother’s pride.

He was sunk under enormous credit debt Patricia knew nothing about, and he was looking at total financial ruin if he couldn’t get his hands on a hard asset before the bank’s deadline ran out.

“He doesn’t want peace, he wants the lake house so he can stave off foreclosure,” I said.