“Mom said you had agreed and were embarrassed about needing help. She said asking you again would make you feel worse.”
“Did you believe that?”
His grip loosened.
“I wanted to.”
I remembered him standing in my kitchen, admitting I could manage my money. Remembered the silence where his answer should have been.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know.”
Richard cleared his throat.
“Before this becomes an accusation, we should establish exactly what documents you have.”
I looked at his closed portfolio.
“You can establish that with my attorney.”
For a moment, nobody moved.
Vanessa gave a short laugh.
“You hired somebody?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“With what you pay lawyers, you could have helped Mom.”
“I offered to help Carol.”
Carol stared at the buffet handles.
I drew the clean sheet from the folder. Across its top I had written a heading: Statement of Events. Below it were empty lines and a place for a signature.
“This is what I wanted you to sign, Vanessa. Your own account of what happened here.”
Her eyes went to my forehead.
“You said you would sign the papers.”
“I reconsidered being quiet.”
Richard reached toward the folder.
I placed my palm over it.
“These are copies.”
His hand stopped.
“My lawyer has the originals. She also has the bank letter and the hospital records.”
Vanessa glanced toward Ethan, then back at me.
“You went to the hospital?”
“That evening.”
“You should have called us.”
I touched the edge of the tablecloth, where the stain had faded but never quite disappeared.
“You were already here.”
Carol sat down heavily.
Richard turned toward her.
“Don’t say anything.”
That was when she looked up.
It wasn’t the warning itself. It was how quickly it came, how practiced it sounded.
“Why?” Carol asked.
