Chapter 3 - THE MONEY
I genuinely thought I'd misunderstood him.
“You did what?”
My father's eyes stayed on the floor.
“Sarah—”
“One hundred and eighty thousand dollars?”
Mom started crying harder.
“It wasn't like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
James stood so close beside me that his shoulder touched mine.
He hadn't said a word.
He didn't need to.
My parents looked terrified of him now.
Good.
Dad swallowed.
“Your grandmother set up separate inheritance accounts.”
“For Lauren and me?”
“Yes.”
“How much did Lauren get?”
“One hundred eighty thousand.”
“And I got the same?”
“Yes.”
The room tilted.
I thought about student loans.
The used Honda I'd driven until the transmission failed.
The cramped apartment James and I had rented when we first married.
The bills we'd fought through while he was deployed.
The night I'd sat on our kitchen floor seven months pregnant, crying because our hospital insurance deductible was higher than we'd expected.
And all that time…
There had been money.
My money.
“Why?”
Mom stood.
“Lauren was struggling.”
I actually laughed.
The sound scared me.
“Lauren was struggling?”
“She had debts.”
“So did I!”
“She was in a bad place.”
“I was in nursing school working double shifts!”
“Sarah, please.”
“How much did you give her?”
Dad finally looked at me.
“One hundred and fifty thousand.”
My fingers went numb.
James inhaled slowly through his nose.
Mom rushed forward.
“We were going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“We thought Lauren would repay us.”
“You thought the woman who has never paid you back for anything in her life was going to repay one hundred fifty thousand dollars?”
Mom's shoulders sagged.
I stared at my father.
“You controlled the account?”
“You were twenty-one when Evelyn died. She named us temporary trustees until you turned twenty-five.”
“I turned twenty-five two years ago.”
“I know.”
“Where is the remaining thirty thousand?”
No answer.
My stomach twisted.
“Dad.”
“We used some of it.”
“For what?”
“Family expenses.”
“What family expenses?”
He looked toward the kitchen.
I followed his gaze.
My parents' kitchen had been remodeled two years earlier.
Italian tile.
New cabinets.
Quartz counters.
Forty-thousand-dollar renovation.
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“You used my inheritance to remodel your kitchen?”
“It wasn't all your money.”
“How much?”
Mom whispered, “Twelve thousand.”
My vision blurred.
“Anything else?”
Silence.
“Anything else?”
Dad finally said, “Lauren needed help with a car.”
I nearly screamed.
“Her BMW?”
Nobody answered.
My eyes filled with tears.
James reached for Emma.
“Give her to me.”
I hesitated.
“Sarah.”
His voice was gentle.
“I've got her.”
I handed him our daughter.
Then I turned toward my parents.
“You stole from me.”
Mom flinched.
“We didn't steal.”
“What do you call taking money that belonged to me without telling me?”
“We're your parents.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Dad's voice hardened.
“We made a decision for the family.”
“No. You made a decision for Lauren.”
He slammed his palm on the table.
“She was in trouble!”
“And I wasn't worth protecting?”
The anger left his face.
That question hurt him.
I could see it.
Good.
Let it.
From behind me, Uncle Robert spoke.
“There is something else.”
My parents both turned toward him.
Dad's face went white.
“Robert.”
“What else?”
Robert looked miserable.
“Your grandmother knew they might try something like this.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“She left instructions.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Robert, stop.”
But Robert was already reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He pulled out an envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
My name was written across the front in my grandmother's handwriting.
SARAH ELIZABETH.
My breath caught.
Robert held it toward me.
“Your grandmother gave me this three days before she died.”
I took it.
My hands shook.
“What is it?”
He looked at my parents.
Then back at me.
“Read it.”
I opened the envelope.
The first line made my heart stop.
May you like
Sarah, if you're reading this, it means your parents did exactly what I was afraid they would do.
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