Page 121 of The Lie Maker

“We told him you’d deny it, so there was no point in bringing it up. But we wanted something he’d find persuasive. He said he could come up with another reason.”

“And Harry?”

“Cayden told him to tell you he couldn’t sell the book, but sweetened the deal with an opportunity, and that phone. Yes, I wanted you to be hungry.”

“What did you do to him?”

“When you told me you were hounding him, after hearing from your editor, that was a concern.” She didn’t have to say any more. There was a pause, and then, “Is your father there, in the room with you?”

“Uhh...”

“Please put him on, Jack.”

I turned and looked at Dad. “She wants to talk to you.”

Dad considered the request for a moment, then held out his hand. He tapped the screen to put the phone on speaker so that I could listen in, then set it on the table.

“I’m here,” he said.

“Michael,” Gwen said. “Forgive me for not knowing what you call yourself these days, but when you worked for my father, you were Michael Donohue.”

Dad’s eyes seemed to dance for a second. He was thinking back, trying to remember her.

“You came to work with him some days,” Dad said. “And I remember, when I would come to the house, I would see you sometimes.” Dad looked almost wistful. “There was one day, I came to your father’s office, and you were dancing for him. He called you a witch.”

“Gwendoline,” she said, “the good witch. You were always very... nice to me. You didn’t suck up to me like the others, just because my dad was the boss. You talked to me like a regular person.” She paused. “My father thought the world of you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Do you remember the day you took me for a hot dog?” Gwen asked.

Dad glanced up, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling of the trailer, as he tried to recollect. “Vaguely. Your father was to take you to lunch but he had to cancel. Asked me to take you someplace fancy. But all you wanted was a hot dog from a stand. You said your father thought hot dogs were disgusting and he never let you have one, which seemed kind of funny, given the kind of shit he sold in his fast food outlets. But if I got you one, you said it’d be our secret.”

“You’re good,” Gwen said. “And we had to make up a story about where you supposedly had taken me.”

“What did we come up with?” Dad asked.

“Green Dragon Tavern,” she said. “You knew the menu by heart, so we were able to come up with something convincing. I told my dad I had fish and chips.”

“I remember.”

“That’s what makes this so hard, Michael,” Gwen said. “Is it okay if I call you Michael, whatever your name is now? Back then, of course, it was Mr.Donohue. But we’re all adults now.”

“Michael is fine.”

“It’s hard, because I once knew you to be a good man. Before you betrayed my father.”

“What would you like me to say, Gwen? After all this time? That I’m sorry? I suppose I am. Sorry that it turned out the way it did. Sorry I let your father talk me into things I never should have done. Sorry I wasn’t a stronger person. Sorry I ever met Galen Frohm. I’ve no doubt he was a wonderful father to you, but he was the most evil person I ever knew. I understand he passed away. You have my condolences.”

Gwen was silent for a moment. Then: “You took my father away from me. You robbed me of all those precious years I could have had with him. And just when he was about to be released, he got sick. He died all alone, Michael. All alone. He was treated despicably.”

Dad said, “That must have been very difficult for you. I don’t expect you to care, but the actions I took robbed me of years with my son and my wife. They wouldn’t come with me, and if I’d stayed with them, I would have put them at risk.”

“How did you spend those years?” Gwen asked. “What was the view from your prison cell like? Oh, wait. There was no prison cell, was there?”

Dad looked weary. I could tell he’d had enough of this.

“What do you want, Gwen?” he asked.