My face went hot.
“I know you’ve been paying Sarah’s credit card bills,” he went on gently. “About eight hundred a month, for almost three years.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your bank reported it as a recurring transfer when she was added as an authorized user. It showed up in a credit report pulled on her last year. I’m not proud of how much a determined researcher can find, Adrienne. But it’s all out there.”
“And Michael?”
“You co-signed his car loan,” Malcolm said. “A Ram truck. Forty-one thousand dollars. He’s missed four payments. The lender’s been sending notices to your house.”
I closed my eyes.
All true. Every word. I’d never told anybody. Not my sister, not my friends at church. Because what kind of mother complains about helping her children?
“They’re my kids,” I said. “That’s what you do.”
