PART 3
I hadn’t known he had already been watching.
Ava reached toward the phone.
Grandpa pulled it away.
“Don’t.”
His voice was quiet.
Ava froze.
“I can explain.”
“I hope you can.”
Grandpa turned toward me.
“Amelia, did you know about the tracker?”
“No.”
He studied my face for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“I didn’t think you did.”
Mom suddenly laughed nervously.
“This is getting ridiculous. You put a tracker on a twenty-four-year-old woman’s car?”
“Her car?”
Grandpa’s eyes moved toward Mom.
“That’s an interesting choice of words.”
Mom’s face tightened.
“I meant the vehicle.”
“No,” Grandpa said. “You meant the vehicle belongs to the family.”
He placed his phone on the desk.
“It doesn’t.”
Nobody spoke.
Grandpa opened a folder sitting beside his computer.
He pulled out a document.
Then another.
Then another.
“I didn’t buy that SUV for the family.”
He looked directly at Ava.
“I bought it for Amelia.”
Ava’s lips trembled.
“I know, Grandpa. I just—”
“No.”
He lifted his hand.
“You’re going to listen.”
The room became completely still.
“I watched what happened after Amelia’s birthday because I knew there might be a problem.”
Mom stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I know my daughter.”
Mom’s expression changed.
“And I know my granddaughters.”
He looked at me.
“Amelia has spent her entire life stepping aside for other people.”
My throat tightened.
I looked away.
Grandpa continued.
“She never asks for much. When she wants something, she apologizes for wanting it. When someone hurts her, she finds a reason to excuse them.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed.
“Dad, this is becoming unnecessarily personal.”
Grandpa looked at her.
“No. This is exactly as personal as it needs to be.”
Then he pointed toward the phone.
“Now let’s talk about the SUV.”
Ava sat down.
Grandpa began reading the tracker history.
“Thursday, August fourteenth. Vehicle left this house at 8:12 a.m. Returned at 10:43 p.m.”
Ava shifted.
“Friday. Left at 6:05 a.m. Traveled 117 miles.”
Mom interrupted.
“She had an interview.”
Grandpa nodded.
“I know.”
He tapped the screen.
“She did not go to an interview.”
Ava’s eyes widened.
Grandpa continued.
“She drove to a lake.”
Ava’s face went pale.
Mom stared at her.
“Ava?”
“I—”
Grandpa held up another document.
“I also received the dealership’s registration notification.”
He slid the paper across the desk.
“The SUV is registered solely to Amelia.”
Mom looked at the document.
For the first time since the dinner began, she looked genuinely frightened.
Grandpa wasn’t finished.
“The insurance policy is also solely in Amelia’s name.”
He looked at Ava.
“You were not listed as an authorized driver.”
Ava whispered, “Mom said it was fine.”
Grandpa’s eyes hardened.
“Your mother doesn’t own that vehicle.”
Ava looked at Mom.
Mom looked away.
Then Grandpa leaned back.
“Now here’s the part I don’t understand.”
He pointed at the mileage report.
“Why has my granddaughter’s SUV traveled more than 1,800 miles in fourteen days?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at me.
“Amelia, how many times did you drive it?”
I swallowed.
“Once.”
Grandpa closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, there was sadness there.
Not anger.
Sadness.
“One hundred and eighty-two miles?”
I nodded.
He looked back at the report.
“Then someone else put more than sixteen hundred miles on it.”
Ava’s voice came out weakly.
“I needed it.”
Grandpa stared at her.
“For what?”
She didn’t answer.
“For work?”
Silence.
“For school?”
Nothing.
“For an emergency?”
Ava lowered her eyes.
“No.”
Grandpa waited.
“Then tell me what you needed it for.”
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“I just wanted to have it.”
The words hung in the room.
Grandpa stared at her.
“You wanted it.”
“Yes.”
“So you took it.”
“My mom let me.”
Grandpa turned toward Mom.
Mom immediately said, “I thought you wouldn’t mind.”
Grandpa laughed once.
It wasn’t a happy laugh.
“You thought Amelia wouldn’t mind.”
Mom crossed her arms.
“She always gives in.”
That sentence changed everything.
Grandpa’s expression became unreadable.
“You’ve mistaken kindness for permission.”
Mom looked down.
“You’ve taught her that if she doesn’t fight back, whatever belongs to her can be taken.”
I felt tears forming in my eyes.
I hated that he had said it out loud.
Because it was true.
Grandpa looked at me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I wiped beneath one eye.
“Because I didn’t want you to think I was causing trouble.”
“Trouble?”
He shook his head.
“Amelia, asking for your own property isn’t causing trouble.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Then Ava suddenly stood.
“Fine!”
Everyone turned.
She was crying now.
“I’ll give it back!”
Grandpa nodded.
“Good.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Grandpa’s voice became firm.
“Now.”
Ava stared at him.
“But we’re at your house.”
“Then we’ll go to my driveway.”
She looked at Mom.
Mom didn’t move.
Ava whispered, “Mom?”
Mom finally spoke.
“Dad, you’re humiliating her.”
Grandpa stared at her.
“No. I’m ending the humiliation your daughter has been putting your other daughter through for two weeks.”
Ava grabbed her purse.
She stormed out.
Mom followed.
I remained standing beside the desk.
Grandpa looked at me.
“Come with me.”
We walked outside.
The white SUV was parked beneath the large oak tree near the garage.
It looked exactly the way I remembered it.
Clean.
Bright.
Almost impossibly new.
But now I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
There were scratches along the passenger-side door.
A small dent near the rear bumper.
Mud beneath the wheel wells.
My heart sank.
Grandpa walked around the vehicle slowly.
He crouched near the rear bumper.
His jaw tightened.
“What happened here?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
Ava stood several feet away.
Mom beside her.
Grandpa looked at them.
“Who caused the dent?”
Ava said nothing.
Mom sighed.
“It was probably nothing.”
Grandpa straightened.
“Nothing?”
He pointed to the bumper.
“This vehicle was delivered fourteen days ago.”
He looked at me.
“She hasn’t even had a chance to enjoy it.”
Ava suddenly snapped.
“It’s just a car!”
Grandpa turned toward her.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“It is not just a car.”
He walked toward her.
“It represents something.”
Ava crossed her arms.
“What?”
“Trust.”
She looked confused.
Grandpa continued.
“I gave Amelia something because I wanted her to know that someone believed in her.”
Then he pointed at the SUV.
“And you treated it like something you were entitled to.”
Ava looked away.
Grandpa reached into his pocket.
He took out the keys.
Then he held them toward me.
I stared at them.
“Take them.”
I did.
The metal felt strangely heavy in my palm.
Grandpa smiled faintly.
“Happy birthday, Amelia.”
My eyes filled again.
“Thank you.”
He squeezed my shoulder.
Then he turned toward Mom.
“We’re not finished.”
Mom’s face tightened.
“What else is there?”
Grandpa looked at her for a long moment.
“I want to know exactly what you told the dealership.”
Mom frowned.
“What?”
