Terrence’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“You asked to move into my house without telling me any of this.”
“Yes.”
Bessie’s voice shook.
“Then do not ask me to call you blameless.”
“I’m not.”
That stopped her.
Terrence looked at the table.
“I’m not asking that.”
Angela let the silence sit.
Terrence continued.
The Maple Street sale had not been his idea.
Lennox told him they were months from foreclosure because of debt he had supposedly helped create. She said selling was the only way to prevent lawsuits and criminal exposure. At closing, she controlled the wire instructions. Terrence believed most of the proceeds would pay debts.
Three days later, Lennox told him the money was gone.
He demanded bank access.
She changed passwords.
He threatened to leave.
She showed him copies of the applications bearing his signatures and told him she would report him as the architect of the scheme.
“Why did you come to me?” Bessie asked.
“Because I had nowhere else.”
“That is not the same as telling me the truth.”
“I know.”
Bessie looked at her son for a long time.
Then she pushed the bank authorization toward him.
“Are you ready to tell it now?”
Terrence nodded.
The next steps were not dramatic.
They were paperwork.
Statements.
