By noon, she had posted online about older women who used money to control younger women. She did not use my name, but Richard’s sister, Vanessa, called twenty minutes later.
“You can’t pretend to be family and then abandon a child because she hurt your feelings.”
“She’s twenty-one.”
“She’s still in college.”
“She has two parents.”
“You know her mother can’t afford tuition.”
“Then Richard will have to.”
The silence on Vanessa’s end told me she knew more than she was saying.
“Richard has had a difficult year,” she said carefully.
“So have I.”
“That’s different. You’ve always been good with money.”
I nearly laughed.
That appeared to be their family’s financial philosophy. Because I was responsible, I was expected to absorb the consequences of everyone who was not.
For ten minutes after the call, I considered restoring the tuition transfer.
Then Michael phoned.
“Grandma told me what happened.”
“She shouldn’t have involved you.”
“She didn’t. Aunt Beth did.”
“That sounds right.”
He hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I may have overreacted.”
“No, you didn’t.”
His certainty irritated me.
“You warned me about Richard from the beginning,” I said. “I’m sure this is very satisfying.”
Michael went quiet.
“That’s not fair, Mom.”
I knew it wasn’t, but pride kept me from apologizing before he ended the call.
By three that afternoon, I had hurt the one person trying to protect me.
The following morning, I met Helen Pierce, my longtime banker, near Keystone Parkway. She helped me review every transaction from the accounts belonging to me.
The total was not thirty thousand dollars.
It was eighty-four thousand.
