PART 7 — THIRTY DAYS
“Not permanent?”
I repeated the words slowly.
Alicia looked toward the phone.
Bruce was still connected.
Thomas reached over and ended the call.
“This part stays in this room.”
Then he looked at Alicia.
“Explain.”
She sat down again.
For the first time that morning, she didn’t look polished.
She looked tired.
“It was supposed to be thirty days.”
Mark frowned.
“What was?”
“Silver Meadows.”
I stared at her.
“You planned to put me there for thirty days?”
“A trial stay.”
“Without telling me?”
“We were going to tell you.”
“When?”
No answer.
Thomas opened the Silver Meadows paperwork again.
“Why December eighteenth?”
Alicia rubbed her forehead.
“Because they had an opening.”
Mark shook his head.
“You told me Mom would go after Christmas.”
“I knew you’d get emotional.”
His expression changed.
“You lied to me.”
“Oh, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you weren’t part of this.”
That landed.
Mark stopped talking.
So did I.
Because she was right about one thing.
Whatever Alicia had hidden from him, my son had still known they intended to move me out and sell my home.
Thomas pointed at the intake summary.
“What happens after thirty days?”
Alicia looked at me.
“If you liked it, you could stay.”
“And if I didn’t?”
“You’d come home.”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed.
“To what home?”
Alicia didn’t answer.
I understood before Mark did.
“If Bruce listed my house December twenty-seventh,” I said, “then my house could have been for sale while I was still at Silver Meadows.”
Alicia shifted.
“That doesn’t mean it would sell immediately.”
Thomas stared at her.
“That is your defense?”
“I am explaining.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re avoiding.”
She looked at me.
I pointed at the paperwork.
“Thirty days ends January seventeenth.”
Thomas nodded.
I continued.
“If the house sold before then, where was I supposed to come home to?”
Nobody answered.
Then Mark whispered:
“Jesus.”
He stood and walked away from the table.
Alicia snapped, “We would’ve figured it out.”
“We?”
He turned around.
“You told me she had agreed to downsize.”
“She needed to!”
“That isn’t what I said!”
Their argument began rising again.
Thomas stopped them.
“Enough.”
Silence.
Then he asked Alicia a simple question.
“Where would the proceeds from Dorothy’s house have gone?”
Alicia’s face changed.
There.
That was the question.
She reached for the folder.
Thomas pulled it away.
“I think we’re finished with you handling these documents.”
“They belong to me.”
“They concern Dorothy.”
“They came from my files.”
“And some contain Dorothy’s apparent signature.”
Alicia slowly withdrew her hand.
Thomas began reading again.
Then he found something.
“Mark.”
My son turned.
“Do you and Alicia have a joint account ending in 4418?”
Mark frowned.
“Yes.”
Alicia whispered, “Thomas—”
He continued.
“Is Dorothy an owner of that account?”
“No.”
“Is it connected to Dorothy in any way?”
“No.”
Thomas turned the page toward him.
“Then why is it listed here?”
Mark came back to the table.
I leaned closer.
Near the bottom of a financial instruction sheet was a bank name.
Below it:
Account ending 4418.
And beside that:
Designated proceeds account.
Mark stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas answered carefully.
“It appears someone expected proceeds from a transaction involving Dorothy’s property to be directed to your joint account.”
My son looked at Alicia.
She said nothing.
“Did you do this?”
Nothing.
“Alicia.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
But I had known Alicia eleven years.
I’d seen real tears.
These weren’t there yet.
“I was trying to protect us.”
Mark stared at her.
“From what?”
She looked at me.
Then she said the sentence that finally made me understand the nineteen-minute phone call wasn’t the beginning of this story.
It was somewhere in the middle.
“From losing everything.”
Mark went still.
“What are you talking about?”
Alicia covered her mouth.
Thomas watched her carefully.
Mark stepped closer.
“What did we lose?”
She shook her head.
“Alicia.”
Nothing.
“How much?”
Her shoulders dropped.
And when she finally answered, her voice was barely audible.
“Almost all of it.”
Mark’s face emptied.
“All of what?”
Alicia looked directly at her husband.
“The college money.”
Nobody moved.
Mark whispered:
“The twins’ college fund?”
Alicia nodded.
And suddenly the lake trip, the boat, my house, Silver Meadows—
all of it looked different.
Because apparently Alicia wasn’t only planning what to do with my money.
She was trying to replace money that was already gone.
