“You don’t have authority.”
Emma pointed at me.
“She does.”
That small gesture shifted something inside me.
Authority.
I had forgotten that word could still belong to me.
Rachel looked at me differently then, almost pleading.
“Margaret, tell her to stop. This is embarrassing.”
Embarrassing.
I looked at the empty kitchen.
Embarrassing was opening a refrigerator with nothing in it.
Embarrassing was asking for fifty dollars when ten thousand was mine.
Embarrassing was feeling grateful for an envelope of my own money.
I drew in a slow breath.
“I want to see my account,” I said.
Rachel stared at me as if she no longer recognized my face.
“You don’t understand the bigger plan,” she insisted. “Daniel’s company is growing. Once it succeeds, everything will return multiplied.”
Emma crossed her arms.
“What company?”
Rachel hesitated.
That hesitation told us more than any answer could have.
Daniel had started a construction business three years earlier. At least that was what he told us. Thompson Construction Group. He had come to my house one evening and sat at this very table with blueprints, coffee, and that earnest look he had learned to wear whenever he wanted me to say yes. He said banks were slow. He said family should support family. He said this was an opportunity.
I remember asking him, “Is it risky?”
He smiled and said, “Not with me running it.”
I believed him.
