It wasn’t enough to make her wealthy, but it was enough to give her choices.
Kevin managed most of our finances, so I’d allowed him to handle that account too.
One Sunday evening, Sarah brought a bank statement to the dinner table.
“Mom, about the account Grandpa left me—”
Kevin immediately reached for it.
“Not tonight, kiddo. Your mother’s exhausted.”
He picked up the statement with the dirty dishes.
Then he turned toward me.
“Speaking of exhausted, how’s that boss of yours treating you?”
The subject changed.
And I let it.
Worse, I thanked Kevin later for keeping Sarah from adding another problem to my already stressful week.
I would remember that moment for years.
When Lola and I finally landed, she drove me home from the airport.
At a red light, she looked over.
“You’re staring again.”
“Sorry.”
“Maureen, I’m going to ask you something once, and then I’ll leave it alone.”
I waited.
“Are you sure everything is okay at home?”
“Kevin’s a good provider.”
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Answering a different question.”
I looked away.
“My dad left Sarah money for college. Kevin manages that too. Everything’s fine.”
“I’m sure it is.”
But she said it exactly the way I’d said Kevin was a good provider.
Neither of us believed me.
When I finally opened my front door that afternoon, the house felt wrong.
Too quiet.
“Sarah?”
Nothing.
“Kevin? I’m home.”
Only the refrigerator hummed.
I left my suitcase in the hallway and walked toward Sarah’s bedroom.
Then I stopped.
Her door was open.
Sarah never left her bedroom door open when she wasn’t home.
I stepped inside.
Her closet was almost empty.
Bare hangers swung slightly beneath the air vent.
Several drawers were open.
