Miles kept one hand on the document.
I leaned forward, trying to make out the small print from the sofa.
Maisie moved against my chest, and I pulled her blanket higher over her shoulder.
“Can you tell us what account received the transfers?” Grandma asked.
Miles glanced at the page.
“I’m reviewing the destination information now.”
Vivian let out a breath.
“Then perhaps we should wait until everything has been checked properly.”
Grandma turned toward her.
“That is precisely what we're doing.”
I looked at the three confirmations again.
March fourteenth.
March twenty-eighth.
April fifth.
The dates were familiar in a way I wished they weren't.
I remembered the hospital envelopes arriving in my mailbox. I remembered the landlord's messages and the way I had started checking my bank balance before buying even ordinary groceries.
I had been trying to stretch a few dollars across too many needs.
Meanwhile, three large transfers had been moving through a process I knew nothing about.
Miles removed another sheet from the folder.
“This is the information provided with the transfer instructions,” he said.
He placed it beside the confirmations.
Grandma leaned closer.
“Is that Natalie's signature?”
Miles examined the document before answering.
“It was represented to me as her authorization.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He looked at me.
“Natalie, did you sign any authorization for these payments?”
“No.”
The answer came easily.
I had signed plenty of things after Owen's accident. Hospital forms, insurance inquiries, documents connected to his death, and papers I could barely read because my wrist was still painful.
But I had never signed anything asking Grandma to send money.
I had never even known she planned to send it.
Miles made a note on his copy.
“Then that needs to be investigated.”
Vivian stood again.
“You're making this sound criminal.”
“No one has reached a conclusion,” Miles replied. “I'm explaining what the records need to establish.”
“It's a family matter.”
“Then the facts should be especially important.”
Nobody spoke after that.
My mother looked at Vivian.
It was a quick glance, but I noticed it.
So did Paige.
I wondered whether they had discussed the money before Thanksgiving. I wondered whether my mother had heard that Grandma was helping me and assumed I was doing better than I was.
I wanted to ask.
But the room already felt full of questions nobody wanted to answer.
Grandma rested both hands on her knees.
“Start from the beginning, Miles.”
He nodded.
“The payments were arranged after you asked that funds be provided for Natalie's recovery and living expenses. I received documents and instructions through the arrangements Vivian coordinated.”
Vivian shook her head.
“I coordinated communications. That doesn't mean I controlled anything.”
Miles didn't argue.
He looked back at the papers.
“I'll need to compare the authorization documents with the destination account records before I can give you a complete explanation.”
Grandma's jaw tightened.
“How long will that take?”
“I can begin the review tonight. Some information may require formal requests.”
She nodded once.
“Begin.”
I had expected her to ask me more about my bills.
Instead, she seemed focused on the records.
I understood why.
The numbers were undeniable.
Someone had sent money.
Someone had provided documents.
And the money had not reached me.
I shifted Maisie onto my other arm.
My wrist began to ache, so I supported her against my shoulder.
Paige noticed and reached for a cushion.
“Here. Let me help.”
“Thank you.”
She placed it behind my elbow.
For a moment, I felt like we were the only two people in the room doing something ordinary.
Then Grandma asked another question.
“Did Natalie ever acknowledge receiving the funds?”
Miles checked the folder.
“There are communications in the file that I need to examine more closely.”
I looked up.
“Communications?”
He turned toward me.
“There were messages included with the documents I received.”
“What did they say?”
“I don't want to characterize them until I've reviewed the complete records.”
Grandma accepted that.
Vivian didn't.
“This is ridiculous. We don't need to spend the entire holiday examining old paperwork.”
Grandma looked at her daughter.
“You keep calling it paperwork.”
“Because that's what it is.”
“No. It's the explanation for why my granddaughter believes she was abandoned when I thought I had helped her.”
The words landed hard.
I looked down at Maisie.
I hadn't thought of myself as abandoned.
I'd thought of myself as unlucky.
Owen had died. I had survived. Our daughter needed me, and there were bills to pay.
I hadn't expected anyone to rescue me.
But I had believed that if my family knew how bad things were, someone would tell me if help was available.
That belief had been shaken more than I wanted to admit.
Grandma turned toward me.
“You should never have had to manage all of that without knowing what I intended.”
I swallowed.
“I didn't know there was anything to ask for.”
She looked at the blanket around Maisie.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
Then she turned back to Miles.
“Keep going.”
He gathered the first group of papers and placed them inside the folder.
The leather cover remained open on the table.
The three wire confirmations were still visible.
I watched them while everyone waited.
I had come to Thanksgiving because Paige wanted me to spend an hour with my grandmother.
Now I was sitting in the middle of a family dispute involving an amount of money I could barely comprehend.
And I still didn't know where it had gone.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: My Mother Had Been Sitting Beside Me the Whole Time, but Her Silence Suddenly Felt Like Another Question I Could Not Ignore
The Question My Grandmother Asked at Thanksgiving Made Me Realize Someone Had Been Living a Very Different Version of My Life
Part 5 of 20
