“I don’t know yet.”
And that was the truth.
I knew enough to be afraid.
I knew enough to drive forty minutes to Daniel’s house with statements folded inside my purse.
But I did not yet know everything.
Rebecca laughed abruptly.
A brittle, unnatural sound.
“Nothing happened.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“Then explain what Mom is talking about.”
“Statements are confusing. Money gets moved. Different institutions categorize transactions differently.”
She started speaking quickly now, using that calm financial voice she had used for years whenever any of us asked about taxes, insurance, bills, or school paperwork.
Rebecca handled everything.
She had always handled everything.
Daniel worked long hours managing construction projects. He was good with people and terrible with paperwork. Rebecca had gradually taken over the administrative side of their lives until none of us thought twice about it.
She paid the bills.
She filed the taxes.
She renewed insurance.
She handled school forms.
She kept passwords.
Eventually, she became custodian of Ethan and Lily’s accounts.
At the time, I thought it made sense.
She was their mother.
Why wouldn’t I trust her?
Daniel stared at Rebecca for another few seconds.
Then his eyes moved away from her.
He looked around the kitchen.
I watched the realization reach him piece by piece.
The pale marble countertops.
The custom cabinets that reached the ceiling.
The brushed brass fixtures.
The six-burner professional stove.
The enormous refrigerator.
The pendant lights Rebecca had once proudly told me were handmade.
The renovation had taken almost five months.
Daniel had complained about the cost constantly.
He had nearly canceled it twice.
Rebecca had always said she had found ways to make it work.
Discounts.
Promotions.
Delayed payments.
“Creative budgeting,” she called it.
Now Daniel looked at those cabinets as though he had never seen them before.
“Get the account records,” he said.
Rebecca folded her arms.
“No.”
I felt something cold move through me.
Daniel blinked.
“What?”
“I said no.”
“They’re our kids’ accounts.”
