“How much?”
Mom remained silent.
Grandpa answered.
“Two hundred thousand dollars each.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Ava whispered, “What?”
I almost laughed.
“Where is it?”
Mom started crying.
Not delicately.
Not strategically.
Real tears.
“I was trying to keep us afloat.”
My stomach went cold.
“What did you do?”
“The money came with restrictions. Education. Housing. Investments. I was trustee until you reached a certain age.”
Grandpa stared at her in disgust.
“And she violated those restrictions.”
Mom shook her head.
“I intended to replace it.”
“How much did you spend?”
Grandpa clearly already knew.
But he wanted her to admit it.
Mom whispered, “Most of it.”
Ava shot to her feet.
“You spent my money?”
Mom turned toward her.
“On this family!”
“On what family?”
“The mortgage. Your private school. Vacations. Your pageants. Your car.”
Ava stared at her.
Then at me.
Suddenly, I remembered every time Mom had claimed there wasn’t enough money for my college textbooks.
