“Too much for whom?”
“For one person!”
His answer came too quickly.
I looked around my kitchen.
The same kitchen where he had eaten cereal in his football uniform thirty years earlier.
The same cabinets his father had repainted twice because I could never decide which shade I liked.
“Kevin, do I miss mortgage payments?”
“No.”
“Do I forget where I live?”
“No.”
“Have I gotten lost?”
“No.”
“Have I fallen?”
“No.”
“Have I asked you to manage my finances?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly is too much?”
He had no answer.
So I supplied one.
“The value.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!”
“Then explain why Jessica promised it to Linda.”
“She didn’t promise it.”
“You told me she did.”
“She said Linda could probably live there eventually.”
My skin went cold.
“Live here?”
“She was talking. That’s all.”
“Your mother-in-law intends to live in my home?”
“She doesn’t intend anything!”
I heard Jessica shouting in the background.
Then Kevin said something away from the phone.
A door slammed.
He returned.
“This whole thing is exploding.”
“No, Kevin.”
I looked at the documents Richard had placed inside my new estate binder.
“It already exploded at O’Hare. You’re only hearing the noise now.”
He lowered his voice.
“What did you do with the estate?”
So that was the question.
Not Are you safe?
Not Why would Jessica call a financial planner?
Not Did we frighten you?
“What do you think I did?”
“Mom.”
“I changed it.”
His breathing became audible.
“How?”
“You no longer need to concern yourself with it.”
“Did you cut me out?”
“You told me yesterday that my future living arrangements were being discussed for a year without me.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No, Kevin. It doesn’t.”
