He said: Arthur. Do you want to pursue this criminally or civilly?

Dad looked at his coffee.

He said: what’s the difference in outcome?

Marcus said: criminally, the focus is on prosecution and consequence. Civilly, the focus is on recovery and protection. In practice, I often recommend both paths run simultaneously because the criminal investigation tends to produce cooperation that makes the civil matter cleaner.

He said: the decision is yours.

Dad said: Vanessa is my daughter.

Marcus said: yes.

Dad said: Grant is not.

Marcus said: no.

Dad was quiet for a moment.

He said: tell me what you recommend.

Marcus told him.

Dad listened.

At the end he said: yes. Do that.

He handed the phone back to me.

He looked at the last strip of bacon on the plate.

He said: are you going to eat that?

I said: it was already yours.

He took it.

Part 5 — Saturday

I drove Dad home on Saturday morning.

The locks had been changed.

Marcus had arranged the contingency.

A locksmith met us at the door.

The house was exactly as Dad had left it.

His files — the original ones, the ones with documents he had actually signed — were in the metal cabinet where they had always been.

The four documents he had not signed were with Marcus.

Vanessa called once on Saturday afternoon.

Dad answered.

The conversation was short.

When he came into the kitchen afterward he said: she wants to meet next week. With attorneys.

I said: what did you say?

He said: I said Marcus would be in touch about the scheduling.

He sat at the kitchen table.

The same kitchen table where he had been stealing bacon three days earlier.

He said: she thinks Grant pressured her into it.

I said: do you believe her?

He said: I think she knew more than she wants to admit and less than Grant did.

He said: I don’t know what comes of that yet.

He said: I know she’s my daughter.

He said: and I know what those documents were.

He said: both things are true and they don’t cancel each other out.

I said: no. They don’t.

He said: your mother used to say I was too patient with Vanessa.

I said: Mom was usually right.

He said: yes. She usually was.

He looked at the kitchen.

He said: I need to go to the store. I ate most of your bacon.

I said: you ate all of my bacon.

He said: I’ll replace it.

I said: you’ll steal it again if you replace it.

He said: probably.

He said: Natalie.

I said: yes.

He said: thank you for coming when I called.

I said: you’re my father. You didn’t have to call twice.

He said: I know.

He said: Grant said you made your choice years ago.

I said: yes.

He said: you chose to live your life. That isn’t a choice against anything.

I said: I know.

He said: I know you know.

He said: I just wanted to say it out loud.

He stood up and got his coat from the hook by the back door.

He said: bacon and eggs?

I said: and coffee.

He said: I’ll be back in twenty minutes.

He drove himself to the store.

He was back in eighteen.

Some fathers steal bacon at breakfast tables three states from home.

Some sisters call at 6:30 in the morning with invented news.

Some documents have signatures that don’t quite match.

And some attorneys say I believe you and mean it and know exactly what to do next.

Drive when your father calls.

Make extra bacon.

Press speaker.

And let him lean toward the phone when the time comes.

He knows when it’s time.

He was very quiet.

That’s how you know.