I did not answer Thomas immediately.
I was still standing beside my father's bed.
The navy tie lay across the suit I had chosen.
I could see the crease where it had been folded for storage.
“Why would you ask me that?”
Thomas did not rush to fill the silence.
“Your father wanted me to understand the circumstances before I went through the estate documents.”
I swallowed.
“Are you saying someone has done something wrong?”
“I'm not making an accusation, Nora. I'm asking what you know.”
I looked around the room.
My father's reading glasses were still on the dresser.
The receipt remained tucked beneath the lamp.
Everything looked as it always had.
Nothing in the room suggested that the future of his money might already be causing trouble.
“My husband quit his job,” I said.
There was a brief silence.
“When?”
“Yesterday. He told me he'd resigned the day before that.”
“And what reason did he give?”
I hesitated.
It felt embarrassing to explain.
Paul had been so confident when he told me about the inheritance.
He had spoken as though he knew what Dad had left behind.
Now I had to admit that I knew almost nothing.
“He thinks my father's estate will be enough for us to live on.”
“Did your husband discuss that with you before resigning?”
“No.”
I heard myself say the word.
It sounded more serious aloud than it had in my head.
Thomas asked whether Paul had made any other plans involving the estate.
I told him about the dinner.
I explained how Paul had promised to find Gloria a house and offered Denise two hundred thousand dollars.
I did not exaggerate.
I repeated the conversation as accurately as I could remember it.
When I finished, Thomas was quiet for several seconds.
“Has your husband seen any estate documents?”
“No.”
“Has he been given any figures?”
“Not by me.”
“Do you know whether he has contacted any of your father's financial institutions?”
“No. I don't know.”
I felt suddenly foolish.
I had never thought to ask Paul what he had been doing with his time.
I had assumed his resignation was a personal decision about work.
I had not considered that he might have been preparing for a future he believed was guaranteed.
Thomas spoke again.
“I'd like you to come to my office tomorrow as planned. Please bring any estate correspondence you have received.”
“All right.”
“And, Nora, don't feel that you need to answer questions about your father's finances before we have reviewed the documents together.”
I looked down at the phone.
“I haven't been answering questions.”
“Good.”
The word was quiet.
It stayed with me after the call ended.
I put the phone away and sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time since Dad's death, I wondered whether my ignorance of his financial affairs had left me vulnerable to other people's assumptions.
I did not know what my father had planned.
I did not know how much he had owned.
I did not know what Thomas intended to show me.
But I knew one thing.
Paul had made promises without knowing whether he could keep them.
I returned home shortly before noon.
Paul was in the living room.
His laptop was open on the coffee table, and a notebook rested beside it.
He looked up when I entered.
“Did you get everything for the funeral?”
“I found Dad's suit.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
I put my purse down.
“Thomas Avery called me.”
Paul looked at me more carefully.
“Your father's attorney?”
“Yes. He wants me to come in tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“To go over the estate paperwork.”
Paul closed the laptop halfway.
“Fine. I'll come with you.”
“He asked me to come alone.”
His expression changed.
“Why would he do that?”
“He said Dad requested it.”
Paul stared at me for a moment.
Then he gave a short laugh.
“That doesn't make any sense. We're married.”
I had heard those words before.
Usually, they were meant to end a discussion.
This time, they only made me more aware of how often he used our marriage as a reason I should not question him.
“He wants to explain the documents to me first.”
“What documents?”
“I don't know yet.”
Paul leaned back.
“It's probably routine. Attorneys like to make everything complicated.”
I did not answer.
He opened his laptop again, but I could tell he was no longer concentrating on it.
After a moment, he spoke.
“Did you ask him about the inheritance?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he called to arrange a meeting.”
Paul looked annoyed.
“You should have asked what we're dealing with.”
I felt something shift inside me.
“What we're dealing with?”
He glanced up.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Paul. I don't think I do.”
He closed the laptop.
“Nora, we need to know what our future looks like.”
I took a breath.
“My father died three days ago. I don't know what my future looks like. I barely know what tomorrow looks like.”
His face softened slightly.
For a moment, I thought he might apologize.
Instead, he said, “I'm trying to help you.”
I looked at him.
“I haven't asked you to plan my father's estate.”
“I'm planning our lives.”
“You already resigned.”
“And I stand by that decision.”
He sounded firm.
I wondered whether he understood what he was asking me to accept.
He had made a decision that affected both of us, then described it as something he was entitled to do for himself.
He had promised money to his family, then described it as something he was entitled to do for us.
There was always a reason.
There was always an explanation that made his choice sound reasonable.
I walked into the kitchen.
The sympathy cards were still stacked beside the toaster.
One had fallen onto the counter.
I picked it up and placed it back with the others.
Paul followed me.
“Are you angry with me?”
I considered the question.
“Yes.”
He seemed surprised.
“Over what? I haven't taken anything from you.”
“That's not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“You're spending money you don't know exists.”
He shook his head.
“I know your father was wealthy.”
“You don't know what he left.”
“He sold the company, Nora.”
“I know.”
“He owned property.”
“I know.”
“So why are you acting like I'm making this up?”
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Because you haven't asked me what I want.”
He stared at me.
Then he looked away.
I had expected an argument.
Instead, he picked up his coffee mug and carried it to the sink.
“Let's talk about this after the funeral.”
It was the first sensible thing he had said.
I wanted to accept it as a promise that he would wait.
But he had already resigned.
He had already offered Denise the money.
And Gloria had already begun imagining a different house.
I could not make those things disappear by postponing the conversation.
That afternoon, I spent several hours at Dad's house organizing the papers I could find.
I did not go looking for account balances.
I did not open drawers I had no reason to open.
I gathered the documents Thomas had mentioned and placed them in a folder.
The receipt beneath the lamp caught my eye again.
I lifted it.
It was for a small household purchase.
Nothing important.
I almost threw it away, then stopped.
Dad had kept it for a reason, even if the reason was no more complicated than wanting a record of what he had spent.
I put it back beneath the lamp.
Somehow, that small act felt like respecting him.
Before I left, I stood in the doorway of his bedroom.
I tried to remember the last time I had visited without knowing it might be the last time.
We had talked about ordinary things.
A repair he needed to make.
A neighbor he had run into.
A meal he wanted to try.
I could not remember every word.
I remembered the sound of his voice.
That was enough to hurt.
When I got home, Paul was on the phone.
He was standing near the window, speaking in a low voice.
I could not hear every word.
Then I heard him say, “We'll know more soon.”
He turned when he noticed me.
“I'm going to call you back,” he said into the phone.
He ended the call.
“Who was that?”
“Denise.”
“What did she want?”
“She was checking on things.”
“What things?”
Paul frowned.
“Don't start, Nora.”
I took off my coat.
“I asked a question.”
“She wanted to know whether I'd talked to the attorney.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That we're waiting for the paperwork.”
He sounded irritated that I had asked.
I wondered whether Denise had already started making plans for the money.
I wondered whether Gloria had continued looking at houses.
I wondered how many people were now expecting something from an estate none of us had seen.
Then I remembered Thomas's question.
Has anyone begun making plans to spend money they believe you are going to inherit?
I had answered honestly.
I didn't know the full extent of it.
But I knew enough to understand why my father had wanted me to come alone.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Before I Could Learn What My Father Had Left Me, I Had to Face the Possibility That My Husband Had Already Built His Future Around It
My Husband Made a Decision While I Was Still Grieving, and I Finally Saw What He Believed My Father’s Death Had Given Him
Part 3 of 20
