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David came by Wednesday evening. He looked worn down, his tie loosened, his eyes rimmed with red. He\u2019d taken his father\u2019s death hard.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said, settling into the kitchen chair where Bob used to sit, \u201cwe need to talk about Dad\u2019s finances. I\u2019ve been going through his office files, and there are things that don\u2019t add up.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach dropped. \u201cWhat kind of things?\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled out a folder\u2014statements, reports, documents I\u2019d never seen.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know Dad had three different checking accounts?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThree?\u201d I stared at him. \u201cNo. We only had the joint account.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pointed at a column of numbers. \u201cThis one\u2019s been empty for six months. This one was closed last year. And this one\u2026\u201d He tapped a third statement. \u201cThis one has a balance of forty-three dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room tilted.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not possible,\u201d I whispered. \u201cOur retirement alone should have over four hundred thousand.\u201d<\/p>\n