Chapter 4: The Money My Grandmother Left Behind
“The account your grandmother opened for you,” Denise repeated, twisting a tissue between her fingers, “was supposed to help the family when we needed it.””
I stared at her.
“My grandmother left that money for my education.””
“She left it for your future,” Denise snapped.
“And your future was always going to include this family.””
“That isn't what she said.””
“Jasmine,” Dad interrupted gently, “what exactly did your grandmother tell you about the account?””
I swallowed.
I remembered sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table when I was twelve, swinging my legs beneath a chair that was too tall for me. The smell of cinnamon rolls filled the room, and she had placed a small envelope beside my glass of milk.
Inside was a handwritten note.
This is the beginning of something wonderful, sweetheart. When you're ready to build your own life, this money will help you get there.
She had told me that she and my mother had opened an education fund for me. I didn't know the balance, and I had never seen the account statements. Grandma said the money would grow quietly until I was ready for college.
After my mother died, Denise took over most of the household paperwork.
She told me the account had been complicated by medical expenses and that Dad was handling everything.
I had believed her.
“Grandma said it was for college,” I told Dad.
“She said Mom helped her set it up.””
Dad's eyes shifted toward Denise.
“Did you access that account?””
Denise dabbed at her cheeks.
“I managed it.””
“That wasn't my question.””
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I accessed it.””
“How much did you take?””
“I didn't take it all at once.””
Dad's face hardened.
“How much?””
Denise looked at the floor.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars.””
The number didn't make sense at first.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
I repeated it silently, waiting for it to become something smaller.
It didn't.
Dad gripped the back of a dining chair.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars from a child's education fund?””
“I paid household expenses!”” Denise protested.
“Mortgage payments, repairs, utilities. You were working constantly, Marcus. Someone had to keep this house running.””
“You had access to my household account.””
“That money wasn't always enough.””
“Then you should have spoken to me.””
“You would have said no!””
“Because it wasn't yours to spend!””
Denise flinched.
I couldn't move.
“Was there ever any money left for me?”” I asked.
She looked at me, then quickly away.
“Some.””
“How much?””
“I don't remember.””
“You don't remember?””
“It was years ago, Jasmine! I wasn't keeping a record of every dollar!””
Dad pulled out his phone.
“I'm calling your grandmother.””
Denise sprang up.
“Don't drag Evelyn into this!””
“She was the person who helped establish the fund.””
“She'll make everything worse!””
Dad stopped dialing and stared at her.
“Why would the truth make everything worse?””
Denise opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I took a step toward the coffee table, where my acceptance letter lay beneath the harsh glow of the chandelier.
“Did you spend my mother's money too?””
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Denise went completely still.
Dad turned toward me.
“Jasmine?””
“I remember Mom telling Grandma she wanted me to go to college. I remember them talking about a scholarship account. Did Denise take that money too?””
My stepmother's expression crumpled.
“Your mother was sick,” she whispered.
“There were so many expenses.””
Dad's voice dropped.
“What does that mean?””
Denise pressed both hands against her stomach.
“Some of the money came from an account your mother had before she died. It was used to help with the family.””
“What account?”” Dad demanded.
“I don't know all the details!””
“Then tell us what you do know.””
She began crying harder.
I had seen Denise cry after arguments before. Usually, the tears came with accusations, reminders of everything she had sacrificed, and demands that we comfort her.
This time, Dad didn't move toward her.
Neither did I.
Finally, she whispered, “Your mother had life insurance.””
The room seemed to lose all its warmth.
Dad stared at her.
“I knew about the policy. It paid for the medical bills and funeral expenses.””
“Not all of it.””
“How much was left?””
Denise shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I didn't handle everything!””
Dad turned away and ran a hand over his face.
I remembered my mother's final months: the medication bottles on her nightstand, the soft blanket Grandma brought to the hospital, and Dad sleeping in a chair beside her bed.
After the funeral, Denise had taken charge of the paperwork. She told me there were bills to settle and that I shouldn't worry about money.
I had been fourteen.
I hadn't worried about money.
I had worried about forgetting the sound of my mother's laugh.
Now I wondered how many other things Denise had hidden while I was trying to survive losing her.
Dad finally dialed Grandma's number.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Marcus?”” she said.
“Is everything all right?””
“No, Evelyn. I'm sorry to call like this, but I need to ask you about Jasmine's education fund.””
There was a pause.
“What about it?””
“Did you establish an account for her?””
“Yes. Your wife and I discussed it years ago. Why?””
Dad glanced at Denise.
“Did you give Denise permission to withdraw money from it?””
“No.””
Grandma's answer was immediate.
Dad closed his eyes.
“Do you know how much was in the account?””
“Of course I do. I received a statement last spring. There should have been approximately seventy-six thousand dollars, including the interest.””
My knees nearly buckled.
Seventy-six thousand.
Denise had admitted to taking forty-eight thousand.
Even if some of that money had been spent legitimately, the remaining balance should have been substantial.
Dad gripped the phone.
“Evelyn, can you send me that statement?””
“Of course. Marcus, what's going on?””
“I'm afraid Denise has been accessing the account without Jasmine's permission.””
Grandma fell silent.
Then her voice sharpened.
“Put Jasmine on the phone.””
Dad handed me the phone.
“Grandma?””
“Oh, sweetheart.”” Her voice softened immediately.
“Are you safe?””
I pressed my lips together.
“I'm safe.””
“Has Denise been bothering you?””
I glanced at my stepmother.
“She tried to throw me out because I wouldn't give Jordan two thousand dollars for a phone.””
Grandma inhaled sharply.
“What?””
“And Dad found out she transferred money from my savings account.””
For several seconds, I heard nothing but Grandma's breathing.
Then she spoke, each word deliberate.
“Jasmine, listen to me. That money was never Denise's. Not one dollar. Your mother and I made certain of that.””
“I know.””
“No, sweetheart. I don't think you do. There was a reason I set up that fund separately. Your mother was worried about what would happen to you if anything happened to her.””
I looked at Dad.
He had gone pale.
“Grandma,” I whispered, “what are you saying?””
“I'm saying your mother insisted the money be protected. She wanted you to have a future nobody could take away from you.””
Behind me, Denise suddenly shouted, “That's enough!””
Dad turned.
“Denise, sit down.””
But she wasn't looking at him.
She was staring at my phone with an expression so furious that I instinctively stepped back.
Grandma heard her.
“Is Denise there?””
“Yes.””
“Put me on speaker.””
I obeyed.
Grandma's voice filled the living room.
“Denise Carter, I want you to explain why Jasmine's education fund has been touched.””
Denise's face twisted.
“You have no idea what it takes to keep a family together!””
“I know what it takes to raise a child. I also know the difference between helping a family and stealing from one.””
“You don't know anything about our finances!””
“Then explain them.””
Denise looked at Dad.
He said nothing.
For the first time, she had nobody willing to rescue her from the questions.
She backed toward the staircase.
“You're all making a terrible mistake.””
Grandma replied calmly, “No, Denise. The mistake was believing nobody would ever check.””
Denise turned and hurried upstairs.
A door slammed.
Dad took the phone from me.
“Evelyn, I'm going to get the account records tomorrow. We'll contact the bank and determine exactly what happened.””
“Don't wait until tomorrow to protect Jasmine's accounts,” Grandma warned.
“And Marcus, there's something else you need to know.””
Dad frowned.
“What?””
“I didn't simply put money into that account.””
A chill moved through me.
Grandma continued.
“I appointed a trustee. Denise was never supposed to control those funds. And if money was withdrawn without authorization, the trustee will know.””
Dad looked toward the staircase.
“Who is the trustee?””
Grandma hesitated.
Then she gave us a name.
It wasn't a bank employee.
It wasn't a lawyer Dad knew.
It was someone whose name I had heard only once before, years ago, when my mother was still alive.
May you like
And when Dad recognized it, he whispered a question that made Grandma's answer sound even more frightening.
“Why would he let Denise get anywhere near the account?””
