Chapter 4: The Missing College Fund
Brandon's chair hit the carpet with a heavy thud.
For a moment, he stood motionless beside Madison, his face drained of color. Then he bent to retrieve the chair, moving so quickly that he nearly knocked over his wife's wineglass.
Grandma Eleanor noticed.
So did I.
"Brandon," Grandma said, "why did you stand up?""
He froze with one hand gripping the back of the chair.
"What?""
"I asked why you stood up.""
"I didn't realize I was supposed to remain seated.""
"Nobody said you were. But you seem rather interested in a folder that hasn't even been found yet.""
Brandon forced a laugh.
"Come on, Grandma. It's been a long evening. Maybe we should all take a breath.""
"That sounds sensible. Perhaps you could start by answering my question.""
He glanced at Madison.
She was staring at her plate, twisting the diamond ring on her finger.
My mother sat rigidly beside them, one hand pressed against her handbag. She had stopped arguing. That frightened me more than her shouting ever could.
I leaned toward Grandma.
"What college fund?""
She looked at me, and the anger in her expression softened into something that hurt even more.
"Your grandfather established an education fund for you when you were born. He added to it every year. When you turned eighteen, he transferred the management of the account to a financial institution, with instructions that the money remain available for your education or other expenses he had specifically authorized.""
"I had a scholarship.""
"I know.""
"I paid my tuition with that and my summer job.""
"I know that, too.""
"Then what happened to the money?""
Grandma took a slow breath.
"Your grandfather intended it to remain yours, whether you attended college or not. He believed that a young person deserved a financial foundation of her own.""
I stared at her.
I remembered Grandpa mentioning something about savings when I was younger. He'd told me not to worry about college expenses, that there would be options if I worked hard and made sensible decisions.
But Mom had always dismissed those conversations.
"Your grandfather likes making promises," she'd told me once.
"Don't build your future around money you haven't earned.""
So I hadn't.
I'd worked two jobs during college, accepted the scholarship, and graduated with enough savings to rent a small apartment. I had never asked where the money Grandpa mentioned had gone.
I assumed it had been a vague plan, something he'd intended to arrange before his illness.
Now I wished I'd asked.
"How much was in the fund?"" I whispered.
Grandma hesitated.
"At the time of his death, approximately one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.""
The number seemed to detach itself from the conversation and hover above the table.
One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
I had spent years comparing grocery prices, postponing dental work, and calculating whether I could afford to replace my aging laptop. I'd once taken a temporary weekend job because my apartment's air conditioner broke during a heat wave.
Meanwhile, there might have been enough money set aside to give me the security I had worked so hard to build.
"Did you know about this, Mom?""
She stared at the tablecloth.
"Your grandfather and I discussed it.""
"That isn't what I asked.""
"Yes," she said sharply.
"I knew about it.""
"Did you tell me?""
"No.""
"Why?""
"Because you were already receiving financial assistance.""
"My scholarship?""
"You didn't need the money at the time.""
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
"You decided that without asking me?""
"You're twisting this into something it isn't.""
Grandma opened her notebook again.
"Patricia, did you withdraw money from Arya's education account?""
Mom's silence stretched.
Then she said, "I managed the account after Dad died.""
"That was not my question.""
"I had access to the paperwork.""
"That still isn't an answer.""
Mom turned toward me, her expression hardening.
"Your sister was struggling. Brandon's business was having problems. They had a newborn. The money was sitting there, doing nothing.""
I looked at Madison.
Her eyes were wet, but she didn't appear surprised.
"You knew?"" I asked.
She shook her head too quickly.
"I didn't know the details.""
"What details?""
"Mom said she'd arranged some money for us.""
"For us?""
She swallowed.
"She said Grandpa wanted to help both of us.""
Grandma placed her pen on the table.
"Your grandfather did not establish a shared account. He established an account for Arya.""
Madison's cheeks reddened.
"I didn't ask for it.""
"But you accepted it," I said.
"I thought it was a family arrangement!""
"You thought my college fund was yours to spend?""
"That's not fair.""
"Neither is discovering that the money you were promised might have disappeared while everyone told you to be independent.""
Brandon finally sat down.
"Nobody stole anything," he said.
"The money was used for legitimate expenses.""
Grandma turned toward him.
"Which expenses?""
"Our house needed repairs. The van needed work before it finally broke down. We had medical bills after the baby was born.""
I stared at him.
"You bought a new entertainment system last spring.""
He blinked.
"How do you know that?""
"Madison posted a picture of it. You also went to Florida in June.""
"That was a family trip.""
"And the designer stroller?""
Madison's face flushed.
"Can you stop keeping track of everything I buy?""
"I wasn't keeping track. You posted the receipts yourself.""
Brandon rubbed his forehead.
"Look, we were under pressure. Patricia offered to help. We didn't know this was some sacred, untouchable fund.""
Grandma's voice dropped.
"Did you know where the money originated?""
Brandon looked at Mom.
That was answer enough.
Grandma picked up her phone and called someone.
"Michael? It's Eleanor. Please tell me you're close.""
A muffled response came through the speaker.
"Good. I need you to bring the estate file concerning the education account. And please contact the bank's legal department. I want to establish the account history before anyone makes another withdrawal.""
Mom shot to her feet.
"You can't freeze our accounts!""
"I'm not trying to freeze your accounts," Grandma replied.
"I'm trying to determine whether anyone moved money that didn't belong to them.""
"You have no idea what you're doing!""
"I've managed a business for forty years, Patricia. I know the difference between a gift and an unauthorized withdrawal.""
Mom looked around the table, searching for an ally.
Aunt Denise lowered her eyes.
Uncle Robert folded his arms.
Nobody spoke for her.
Then Madison began to cry.
Not quietly.
She pressed a napkin to her face and let out a series of ragged sobs that made several guests shift uncomfortably.
"Everyone thinks I'm some terrible person," she said.
"I have a baby. I haven't slept properly in months. Brandon's business almost failed. Mom was the only person who helped us.""
I looked at my sister.
For one brief moment, I remembered the little girl who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. I remembered teaching her to ride a bicycle and letting her hold my hand when she had her tonsils removed.
I had loved her long before I understood that our mother would turn that love into a reason for me to accept almost anything.
"I'm not angry because you needed help," I said.
"I'm angry because you accepted help taken from me and expected me to stay quiet.""
Madison lowered the napkin.
"I never thought of it like that.""
"That's the problem.""
Grandma reached for my hand.
"You don't have to decide how you feel about your sister tonight.""
I nodded, though my throat hurt.
Then the dining room doors opened.
A tall man in a charcoal suit entered carrying a leather briefcase. His silver hair was neatly combed, and rain glistened on the shoulders of his coat.
Michael Levin.
Grandma rose to greet him.
"Thank you for coming.""
He glanced around the table, taking in the fallen chair, the untouched dinner, and my mother's expression.
"I gather this isn't about a routine estate question.""
"No," Grandma said.
"It's about a missing education fund and a letter your client left six years ago.""
Michael set his briefcase on the table.
"Which account?""
Grandma told him.
His expression changed immediately.
He opened the briefcase, removed a thick folder, and flipped through several pages until he found what he needed.
Then he looked at me.
"Arya, before I say anything further, I need you to answer one question honestly. Did your mother ever ask you to sign documents related to your grandfather's estate?""
I searched my memory.
There had been a stack of papers after Grandpa died. Mom had brought them to my apartment, explaining that they were routine family documents and that I needed to sign a few pages to keep the estate administration moving.
I had been twenty years old, grieving, and completely unfamiliar with legal paperwork.
I remembered signing something at my kitchen counter.
"I think so," I said slowly.
"But I don't know what the documents were.""
Michael's face grew serious.
"Do you remember signing anything that mentioned an assignment of beneficial interest, a transfer of funds, or a power of attorney?""
My heart began to pound.
"No.""
He looked toward my mother.
"Patricia, do you remember those documents?""
Mom gripped the back of her chair.
"That was six years ago.""
"Yes," Michael replied.
"And if the documents I'm thinking of are the same ones, six years may be a very important detail.""
He removed a single sheet from the folder and placed it in front of me.
At the bottom was my signature.
Or something that looked like it.
Above it, in small black print, were the words:
*Assignment of Beneficial Interest.*
I stared at my name.
Then I read the date.
It was the day after Grandpa's funeral.
And suddenly, I remembered my mother standing beside my kitchen counter, tapping her fingernails against a stack of papers while telling me there was nothing to worry about.
May you like
But what I remembered most was the final page.
Because I was almost certain I had never signed it.
