As the days passed, I began thinking about what would happen when Kevin and Tara returned.
They would probably visit.
They usually did.
The first Sunday of the month had always been their routine.
I wondered whether they would still bring a pie.
I wondered whether Tara would ask about my paperwork.
I wondered whether Kevin would sit in the same kitchen chair and tell me how much he had missed me.
The thought made my stomach tighten.
I didn't want to argue.
But I wasn't going to pretend.
I spent one afternoon organizing the documents I had received from Carol.
I placed the transaction records in the front of the folder.
Behind them, I kept the information about the joint account.
I also included copies of my original signatures.
The cruise photograph remained on my phone.
I had saved it because it showed exactly what Kevin had written.
I wasn't going to rely on my memory when the message itself was still available.
I placed the folder in my desk drawer.
Then I locked it.
I had never locked that drawer before.
It felt strange.
But I was learning that privacy wasn't an insult to family.
It was something every person deserved.
That evening, I called Carol.
I wanted to make sure she had my current telephone number.
She confirmed it.
Then I asked whether there was anything else I should do while the investigation continued.
She advised me to contact the bank immediately if I noticed any further suspicious activity.
She also reminded me not to share personal account information with anyone who contacted me unexpectedly.
I thanked her.
After hanging up, I sat quietly.
Earl had always handled some of our financial arrangements.
But after he died, I had learned to manage everything myself.
I had made mistakes over the years.
I had occasionally forgotten a payment date.
I had once misplaced an insurance document.
But I had never given anyone permission to take my savings.
That distinction mattered.
I was not helpless.
I was not incapable.
And I wasn't going to let anyone make me feel otherwise.
The next morning, Kevin called.
I answered.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hello."
"We're getting ready to come home."
"All right."
"How have you been?"
"Fine."
He laughed.
"You don't sound very excited."
I looked at the blue notebook.
"I've had a lot on my mind."
He paused.
"What's going on?"
I nearly told him.
Instead, I asked when they would be arriving.
"Tomorrow afternoon."
I nodded, although he couldn't see me.
"Drive safely."
"We will."
He said he loved me.
I told him goodbye.
After the call, I stood by the kitchen window.
Tomorrow.
They would be home tomorrow.
I knew I needed to be ready.
I didn't want to meet them while I was still trying to understand what I had seen.
I wanted to be calm.
I wanted to have the documents nearby.
And I wanted to hear what they had to say before deciding what to do next.
That afternoon, I placed the bank folder inside the desk drawer.
I checked that the drawer was locked.
Then I cleaned the kitchen.
I wiped the table.
I washed the cups.
I put away the spare chairs.
I didn't know why I was doing all of that.
Perhaps because I wanted the house to look normal.
Perhaps because I wanted one part of my life to remain under my control.
The following day, I woke early.
I made breakfast.
I dressed carefully.
Then I waited.
Around two in the afternoon, I heard a car outside.
I looked through the front window.
Kevin's vehicle was parked near the steps.
He got out first.
Tara followed.
She was carrying a handbag.
They walked toward the front door.
I opened it before they knocked.
"Hi, Mom."
Kevin leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
"Hello, sweetheart."
Tara smiled.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine."
She held out a small bag.
"We brought you something."
I took it.
"Thank you."
It was a box of chocolates.
I placed it on the hall table.
Kevin looked around.
"Everything looks the same."
"Most things are."
He laughed.
Tara removed her coat.
Then she looked toward the kitchen.
"Have you been keeping up with your paperwork?"
I stared at her.
The question came so naturally.
So casually.
As though she had asked whether I had bought milk.
I took a breath.
"I've been handling it."
She nodded.
"That's good."
Kevin walked toward the kitchen.
"Do you have coffee?"
"Yes."
I followed him.
I placed three cups on the table.
And for a moment, we sat together just as we had on all those other Sundays.
Only this time, I knew what had happened.
And I knew that the woman sitting across from me had been recorded at the bank.
I looked at Kevin.
Then I looked at Tara.
I wasn't ready to begin the conversation yet.
But I knew it was coming.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: Tara Asked About My Paperwork Again, and This Time I Didn’t Give Her the Comfortable Answer She Expected
I Thought My Son Only Wanted to Help Me, Until I Remembered What His Wife Had Been Doing Inside My House
Part 11 of 20
