She and Grandma talked about money. Grandma said she was running out. Mom said she would figure something out.”
Andrew’s hands curled inside his jacket pockets.
“Anything else?”
Harry stared at the water.
“She came down once. About a year ago.”
Andrew stopped breathing for a moment.
“I pretended to be asleep,” Harry said. “She stood on the stairs. Grandma asked if she wanted to talk to me. Mom said no.”
His voice cracked.
“She said I looked fine.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
Behind his eyelids, he saw Mary standing at Harry’s funeral.
Mary taking his hand.
Mary telling him they had to accept the truth.
Mary signing papers.
Mary putting flowers on a grave that did not hold their son.
When Andrew opened his eyes, Harry was watching him.
“Are you mad?”
“Not at you,” Andrew said. “Never at you.”
That night, after Harry fell asleep on the couch, Andrew sat at the kitchen table and opened the laptop.
Mary had always handled the paperwork.
Insurance.
Banking.
Household bills.
Andrew had trusted her because marriage was supposed to have trust inside it.
Now he searched through old accounts until he found the policy.
Harry’s life insurance.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Filed three weeks after the funeral.
Approved six weeks later.
Mary’s signature was on the claim.
Betty’s signature was on a witness form.
The money went into Andrew and Mary’s joint account.
Then it began moving out.
Five thousand dollars.
Three thousand.
Twenty-five hundred.
Again and again.
Most of it went to Betty.
Some of it paid Mary’s credit cards.
Some disappeared into accounts Andrew did not recognize.
Andrew was still staring at the screen when the front door opened.
Mary walked in.
Her heels stopped clicking when she saw the laptop.
“What are you doing?”
