Chapter 5 - The Money with My Name on It
Mom had called it my someday money.
She put birthday checks into it.
Overtime pay.
Whatever she could save without Dad noticing she was wearing the same winter coat another year.
Before she died, she told me there would be enough to help.
Not enough for everything.
Enough for a beginning.
Dad had shown me a statement the previous winter.
A little over twenty-six thousand dollars.
Now he sat at the kitchen table while I stood across from him.
“How much is left?”
“We had expenses.”
“How much?”
“Emma, a family isn’t a bank.”
Julie pulled out a chair.
“Show her the account.”
Dad glared at her.
“This is between me and my daughter.”
“Then answer your daughter.”
He opened his laptop.
For a second, I thought he might turn it away again.
Instead, he slid it across the table.
The balance was $4,612.18.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at the transaction history.
There were transfers over the past five months.
Some small.
Some large.
One was for eight thousand dollars.
Another for six thousand.
“What was that?”
Dad followed my finger.
“House expenses.”
Dana appeared in the doorway.
“We’re not going to justify every purchase.”
“You used my college money.”
“It was an account in your father’s name.”
Julie’s face went still.
“So you knew.”
Dana looked at Dad.
He stared at the table.
I clicked through the transactions.
There was the sports training company whose logo was printed on Owen’s new backpack.
There was a flooring contractor.
And there was a transfer made the same week Dana posted pictures of their anniversary trip.
I remembered staying home with Owen.
I remembered Dad telling me they had gotten a great deal.
“You used it for a vacation?”
Dad closed his eyes.
“We were going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“I expected a bonus.”
“And when you didn’t get it?”
“We didn’t know how to tell you.”
I stepped away from the table.
My father had not forgotten what mattered to me.
He had spent it.
Julie helped me carry the suitcases outside.
Dad followed us onto the porch.
“We can fix this.”
I looked back at him.
“Then start with the truth.”
That afternoon, Julie called my grandmother.
An hour later, Grandma Ruth called me.
May you like
“Emma,” she said, “your mother gave me something before she died.
I think it’s time you saw it.”
