Emma had always been fond of her grandmother.
Despite the subtle discouragement from Zuri about spending too much time with sick old people, now he realized that Myrtle’s absence would hurt Emma in ways he hadn’t considered.
“She’s taking a trip, sweetheart,” Zuri said, though her voice lacked conviction. “She’ll be back.”
Emma studied her parents with the unblinking directness of childhood.
She heard you laughing at her car, didn’t she? I saw her face. She looked like I did when Tommy Morrison called me stupid at recess.
The comparison was devastating in its simplicity.
David had comforted Emma through that incident, had called the school, and demanded action against the bully.
Now he realized that he and Zuri had been the bullies in their own home, and their victim had been his own mother.
“It’s more complicated than that, M” he said weakly.
No, it’s not,” Emma replied with the brutal honesty of children. “You were mean to her, and now she’s gone.”
After Emma left for school, David and Zuri continued their archaeological dig through their financial life.
Each discovery more shocking than the last.
The vacation cabin in Vermont that they used every summer and had assumed was a family inheritance, purchased and maintained by Myrtle.
The private school tuition for Emma and Jake, paid by an education fund Myrtle had established.
Even their car payments were being supplemented by monthly transfers from her accounts.
“Jesus Christ,” David whispered, looking at a three-year summary that James Morrison had provided.
“She’s been spending almost $4,000 a month on us. $4,000, Zuri, every month.”
Zuri was crying again. But this time, her tears came with the terrible understanding of what they had lost.
“The nursing home,” she said through her sobs. We wanted to put her in a nursing home and she was paying for our entire life.
The phone rang and David grabbed it desperately hoping it was his mother.
Instead, it was the mortgage company following up on Zuri’s call from the previous day about the automatic payments.
Mr. Patterson, this is Janet from First National. I wanted to clarify the situation with your mortgage payments.
As I mentioned to your wife yesterday, the account holder for your automatic payments is listed as Myrtle Patterson.
If she’s removed from the account or if the payments stop for any reason, you’ll need to make alternative arrangements immediately.
David felt his stomach drop.
What kind of alternative arrangements?
Well, your next payment is due February 1st. That’s $2,247.
If Mrs. Patterson is no longer handling the payments, you’ll need to ensure we receive that amount by the due date to avoid late fees and potential default proceedings.
After hanging up, David stared at his bank balance on the laptop screen.
After Christmas expenses and holiday bonuses for their cleaning lady and babysitter, they had $1 and $200 in checking and maybe another $800 in savings.
Without his mother’s support, they couldn’t even make their next mortgage payment.
We have to find her, Zuri said, her voice desperate. We have to bring her home.
And say what? David snapped, his guilt transforming into anger as it always did when he felt cornered.
Sorry we treated you like garbage, but please keep paying our bills.
Maybe if we apologize.
Apologize for what? For the joke? For wanting what was best for her?
But even as he said it, David knew he was lying to himself.
The Christmas card had been cruel, but it was just the latest in a long series of signals they had sent his mother about her place in their family.
The separate hotel room on vacation, the comments about her condition, the way they talked around her as if she wasn’t present, the gradual exclusion from family decisions and conversations.
James Morrison arrived at 10:00 a.m. carrying a briefcase and wearing the expression of a man who had seen this scenario play out before.
He was in his 70s with silver hair and kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, but his demeanor was all business.
“David Zuri,” he said, settling into their living room. “I assume you’ve had time to review the documents your mother left.”
“Where is she, James?” David demanded. “This is insane. She can’t just disappear.”
James studied him calmly.
“Your mother is a competent adult with no legal restrictions on her movement. She can go wherever she chooses, but her condition, her Parkinson’s is mild and well-managed. She’s perfectly capable of traveling and living independently.”
Zuri leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly.
James, we know we made mistakes. The Christmas thing was just a joke that went too far. We never meant to hurt her.
I’m not here to judge anyone’s family dynamics, James replied diplomatically. I’m here to discuss the practical implications of your mother’s departure.
He opened his briefcase and withdrew a thick folder.
Your mother has been supporting your household financially for 3 years. The total amount is approximately $144,000, not including the down payment she made on this house when you purchased it.
David felt the room spin slightly.
Down payment $80,000 in 2018. Without it, you wouldn’t have qualified for your mortgage.
The number hung in the air like an accusation.