Chapter 5: The Nine Hundred Dollars Meant for Molly
I called Jean before I could think of anything else.
She answered while I was still standing over the papers on my desk.
"Tell me exactly what you found," I said.
Jean's voice was unsteady.
"I found a letter from the attorney who handled Emily's estate. The twelve hundred dollars came from your father's old account. But there was also a separate payment related to Emily's life insurance.""
I gripped the desk.
"Life insurance? I thought that was settled years ago.""
"Most of it was. There was a small supplemental benefit that the insurer had held while they verified some records. The attorney's letter says nine hundred dollars was payable to Molly.""
I looked at my daughter.
She stood beside the office door, listening.
"Why wasn't it paid directly to her?""
"Because she was a minor. The money was supposed to be deposited into a custodial account until she turned eighteen, unless a court-approved expense justified an earlier withdrawal.""
I felt a knot form in my stomach.
"Who was responsible for arranging that?""
"The attorney sent instructions to you. You were supposed to complete the paperwork.""
I tried to remember.
The months after Emily died were a blur of hospital invoices, insurance forms, funeral arrangements, and sleepless nights. I'd signed stacks of documents without always understanding every page.
"I don't remember receiving the letter.""
"I have a copy. It was mailed to your old address.""
"We moved before I married Tara.""
"Yes. The attorney sent another copy to the new address last year.""
I looked at the date on the photograph Jean had sent.
Last year.
"What happened to it?""
"I don't know. But the letter says the insurer had been waiting for confirmation of Molly's custodial account.""
I sat down.
"Mom, are you telling me someone could have taken money that was supposed to belong to Molly?""
"I'm telling you the records suggest the payment was never deposited into the account it was meant for.""
My stomach turned.
"How do we find out where it went?""
"The attorney can request the payment history. We need the insurer's records, the bank records, and the original authorization forms.""
"Can you call the attorney?""
"I already did. His office opens at nine tomorrow morning. He said he'd review the file and call us back.""
I rubbed my face.
"Thank you.""
"Scott, there's something else I haven't told you.""
I looked up.
"What?""
"The attorney's letter names the person who was permitted to receive correspondence about the payment while the custodial account was being established.""
"Who?""
"Your wife.""
For a moment, I thought I'd misheard.
"Tara?""
"Her name is listed as the household contact. It doesn't mean she received the money, but she was included in the correspondence.""
I stared at the floor.
"Why would she be the contact?""
"Your original paperwork may have designated her as the person helping you manage household correspondence. I can't tell from the copy I have.""
I felt suddenly exhausted.
"Mom, I'll call you tomorrow.""
"Please do. And Scott?""
"Yes?""
"Don't let this turn into an argument where everyone shouts and nobody checks the records. If money was misdirected, we need proof. If someone made a mistake, we need to understand it. And if someone deliberately took it, we need to know that too.""
After the call, I remained at my desk for a long time.
Molly sat quietly on the couch against the wall.
"Dad?""
I turned toward her.
"Yes?""
"Does that mean the nine hundred dollars was mine?""
"Possibly. We need to verify everything before we know for certain.""
She nodded slowly.
"I didn't know about the money until Grandma mentioned it.""
"Did she tell you the amount?""
"No. She just said there might be something from Mom's insurance that belonged to me.""
I reached for her hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"I thought you'd forgotten about it. And I didn't want to ask you for money when I knew we were struggling.""
I looked at her in disbelief.
"You thought asking about your own inheritance would hurt me?""
She shrugged.
"You work a lot, Dad. You always look tired.""
I had to turn away for a moment.
At twelve years old, my daughter had been worrying about my finances while I convinced myself she was too young to understand what was happening in our household.
I pulled her into a hug.
"You never have to protect me from your own needs.""
She rested her head against my chest.
"I just want things to go back to normal.""
I closed my eyes.
"So do I, sweetheart.""
We stayed there until a voice came from the hallway.
"Scott, can we talk?""
Tara stood outside the office.
She had returned without my hearing the front door. Her coat was still on, and her handbag hung from her shoulder.
Molly immediately stiffened.
I noticed.
"Go to your room for a few minutes," I told her gently.
"I'll come find you.""
She hesitated.
"Are you sure?""
"Yes.""
She left, closing the door softly behind her.
Tara stepped inside.
"I went for a drive because I needed to calm down.""
I said nothing.
She placed her handbag on the desk.
"I understand why you're upset. But you're making assumptions based on things you don't understand.""
"Then explain the nine hundred dollars.""
She looked at me.
"What nine hundred dollars?""
"The payment from Emily's life insurance. The one that was supposed to go into a custodial account for Molly.""
Her face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
"That was years ago," she said.
"The attorney sent correspondence last year. Your name was listed as the household contact.""
"I receive a lot of mail.""
"Did you receive a letter about the payment?""
"I don't remember.""
"Did you contact the insurer?""
"No.""
"Did you receive the nine hundred dollars?""
"Of course not.""
I watched her carefully.
"Then why did you ask Molly whether Jean had given her money?""
Tara's mouth tightened.
"I was trying to understand why she had three hundred dollars.""
"Before you found it in her backpack?""
She looked away.
I felt my heartbeat slow.
"What did you just say?""
Tara blinked.
"What?""
"You said you were trying to understand why she had the money. But you told me you discovered it after searching her backpack.""
"That's what I meant.""
"No. You said you were trying to understand why she had it.""
She crossed her arms.
"You're twisting my words.""
"Did you know Molly had three hundred dollars before you searched her backpack?""
"No.""
"Then how did you know to look?""
"I didn't know! I was checking her things because money was missing.""
I leaned forward.
"Why did you search her backpack at all?""
"Because she's been secretive lately.""
"Secretive about what?""
"I don't know! That's why I searched it.""
Her voice rose, then fell abruptly.
She looked toward the door.
I followed her gaze.
The hallway was empty.
"Scott, I know how this looks," she said.
"But I would never steal from a child.""
I wanted to believe her.
That was the worst part.
I remembered her helping Molly with homework, buying her winter clothes, and sitting beside her at school concerts. I remembered the first time Molly had called her Tara instead of her stepmother, and how Tara had smiled as though it didn't matter.
I didn't want those memories to be false.
But I couldn't ignore what was happening now.
"Then help me find the records," I said.
She frowned.
"What records?""
"The bank documents. The insurance correspondence. The envelope Molly saw in the office.""
"I don't know where that envelope is.""
"Did you take it?""
"No.""
"Can I look through your handbag?""
Her expression turned icy.
"Absolutely not.""
"Why?""
"Because I'm your wife, not your employee. You don't get to search my personal belongings because your daughter has accused me of something.""
I held her gaze.
"Then you won't mind explaining why you were in the home office last Friday.""
She stared at me.
"How do you know I was there?""
"Molly saw you.""
"Of course she did.""
Tara picked up her handbag.
"Do you know what the real problem is, Scott? You never wanted me to be part of this family. You wanted someone to cook dinner, keep the house clean, and make your life easier. But the moment something goes wrong, you run back to the ghost of your first wife.""
I stood.
"That's not fair.""
"No? You mention Emily every time I disagree with you. You compare everything I do with what she would have done. And now you're letting Molly use her mother's death to avoid consequences.""
"Stop using Emily against my daughter.""
"I'm not using anyone!""
She slammed her handbag onto the desk.
A small object slipped from the outer pocket and fell to the floor.
It was a folded bank receipt.
Tara immediately bent down to pick it up.
But I was faster.
I reached the floor first and unfolded the paper.
The receipt was dated eleven months earlier.
It showed a cash withdrawal of nine hundred dollars from an account whose last four digits matched the account number printed on Jean's letter.
My hands went cold.
I looked up.
"Tara, what is this?""
She held out her hand.
"Give it to me.""
"Why do you have a receipt showing a nine-hundred-dollar withdrawal from the account connected to Emily's estate?""
"That's not what it is.""
"It has the account number.""
"You don't understand.""
"Then explain it.""
She grabbed for the receipt.
I stepped back.
"Scott, give it to me!""
Her voice cracked.
I had never seen her look so frightened.
Not angry.
Frightened.
The realization struck me harder than the accusation itself.
She wasn't afraid I would misunderstand the receipt.
She was afraid I would understand it.
I folded it carefully and placed it in my pocket.
"We're going to the bank tomorrow.""
"No.""
The word came out immediately.
I stared at her.
"What do you mean, no?""
"You can't just walk into a bank and demand private information.""
"I'm the person named in the estate documents.""
"You don't know what you're doing!""
"Then come with me and explain.""
She shook her head.
"Scott, please. There are things you don't understand about that money.""
"What things?""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't take it for myself.""
I felt the room grow still.
"What did you do with it?""
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "I used it to pay something that would have destroyed this family if you'd found out.""
I stared at her.
"What could possibly be worse than stealing from my daughter?""
May you like
Tara looked toward the staircase.
Then she said, "You need to ask Cole what happened last year.""
