Chapter 10 - What She Told His Mother
Malcolm stood in Andre’s kitchen without speaking.
Andre watched him.
“Tasha,” Malcolm said into the phone, “what did you tell my mother?”
Tasha’s crying grew quieter.
“When?”
“Don’t ask me when. Tell me what.”
“Before she got sick.”
Malcolm gripped the counter.
His mother, Denise Reed, had died after a short battle with pancreatic cancer.
She had been sixty-one.
Sharp, funny, stubborn, and deeply proud of her sons.
In the final months of her life, she had worried constantly about Malcolm.
Not his health.
His stability.
She had repeatedly told him not to chase “every shiny opportunity.”
At the time, Malcolm had assumed illness had made her fearful.
Now his skin went cold.
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were burning yourself out.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“Tasha.”
“I told her you were thinking about leaving your job without another one.”
Malcolm stared at Andre.
Andre’s face hardened.
“I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
“I said you were talking about moving without a plan.”
“I had job leads.”
“I know.”
“You made me sound reckless.”
“I was afraid she’d encourage you.”
“So you poisoned her against my choices first.”
“That isn’t how I thought of it.”
“How did you think of it?”
“I thought if she told you to slow down, you’d listen.”
Malcolm’s chest tightened.
His mother’s voice returned in memory.
Baby, stability matters.
Don’t throw away something solid because somebody promises you bigger.
You got a good woman and a home. Don’t keep chasing.
Malcolm had resented those conversations.
Once, he had snapped at her.
He had left her house early.
They reconciled, but he still remembered the regret afterward.
“You made her think I was irresponsible.”
“I exaggerated.”
“No. You lied.”
“I was trying to get through to you.”
“You recruited my dying mother into controlling me.”
Tasha sobbed.
“I’m sorry.”
Andre stood.
“Give me the phone.”
Malcolm shook his head.
His brother paced.
“What exactly did she say?” Andre demanded.
Tasha heard him.
“Andre, please.”
“Don’t say my name.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Was that why Mom called me after the Houston recruiter?”
Andre stopped walking.
Tasha went silent.
Malcolm knew.
“Oh my God.”
He remembered the date.
His mother had still been healthy enough to drive.
She had appeared at his apartment with groceries.
They had sat at the dining table.
She had told him she felt he was “restless.”
Malcolm had laughed.
He had no idea why she brought it up.
Later that night, he told Tasha the conversation was weird.
Tasha had hugged him and said:
“She just loves you.”
Malcolm whispered, “You arranged that.”
“I asked her to talk to you.”
“You lied to her, then sent her to me.”
“I didn’t send her.”
“You manipulated her.”
“I thought—”
“Stop.”
His voice broke.
The word came out louder than intended.
“Just stop telling me what you thought.”
Silence filled the call.
Malcolm’s eyes burned.
“I spent the last year of my mother’s life wondering why she stopped believing in me.”
“She believed in you.”
“You gave her reasons not to trust my judgment.”
“I was scared.”
“She died thinking I needed you to keep me grounded.”
Tasha began crying again.
“I loved your mother.”
“That makes it worse.”
Malcolm ended the call.
For several minutes he stood facing the dark screen.
Andre sat slowly.
Neither brother spoke.
Finally Andre said, “Mom knew you loved her.”
Malcolm looked away.
“I know.”
“She was proud of you.”
“I know.”
“You two had disagreements before Tasha.”
“I know.”
Andre stood beside him.
“You can’t let this rewrite everything.”
Malcolm laughed bitterly.
“That’s exactly the problem. I don’t know what it rewrites.”
He walked toward the window.
“Every time Mom told me to be careful, was that her? Or Tasha?”
“Probably both.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“No.”
Malcolm rubbed his face.
“I remember telling Mom I didn’t need permission to want more.”
Andre nodded.
“She said you were right.”
“Three weeks later she was diagnosed.”
Andre’s eyes lowered.
“I wasted time being mad at her.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I was mad about something she believed because Tasha lied.”
Andre put a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder.
Malcolm did not pull away.
At noon, a new email arrived.
Not from Tasha.
From Bellweather.
Elena had sent details for Thursday’s final interview.
Malcolm stared at the screen.
The past twenty-four hours had contaminated every career victory.
But this one was still alive.
Andre noticed.
“That them?”
“Yeah.”
“What does it say?”
“Final panel. Security conversation first.”
“You going?”
Malcolm looked at him.
“Absolutely.”
For the first time that day, Andre smiled.
“Good.”
Malcolm opened the attached preparation document.
Then his phone vibrated.
A voicemail notification.
Tasha had called while he was reading.
He almost deleted it without listening.
Instead, he pressed play.
“Malcolm, there’s one thing I need to tell you before you hear it from somebody else.”
He closed his eyes.
Her recorded voice continued.
“I contacted Bellweather months ago.”
Malcolm’s eyes opened.
Andre saw his expression.
“What?”
The voicemail continued.
“I didn’t cancel anything then. I just… asked questions. I used another name.”
Malcolm put the phone on speaker.
Tasha’s voice filled the kitchen.
“I wanted to know how much travel the job really involved.”
Andre stared.
“And when the recruiter wouldn’t tell me because I wasn’t the applicant, I did something stupid.”
A pause.
“I created an email address pretending to be your assistant.”
Malcolm felt cold.
“I know how that sounds.”
Andre muttered, “Do you?”
Tasha continued.
“They might still have those messages.”
The voicemail ended.
Malcolm looked at Bellweather’s invitation.
Security conversation first.
Suddenly he knew why the company wanted one.
The cancellation had not triggered their concern.
It had confirmed it.
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Someone had been circling Malcolm’s candidacy long before the morning he discovered anything.
And on Thursday, Bellweather was going to show him exactly how far Tasha had gone.
