…give us updates. Jessica’s cousin works there. She told us when you came in.”
I stood in my doorway and stared at my son.
“Jessica’s cousin,” I said. “Works at my attorney’s office. And has been reporting to you about my private legal business.”
He realized, a beat too late, what he’d just told me.
“Mom, it’s not like that,” he said. “We were just worried. You’re getting older. We wanted to make sure nobody was taking advantage of you.”
“Nobody was taking advantage of me,” I said. “Until now.”
I closed the door. Then I called my attorney, Mr. Hughes, at home, on Christmas week. He was horrified. He’d had no idea. The next morning, he found out that a paralegal named Brittany, my daughter-in-law’s cousin, had been accessing my file for over two years. Every time I called. Every change. Every question. She’d been forwarding it all to Jessica.
She was fired that afternoon. Mr. Hughes reported the breach to the state bar. He also sent my son and his wife a letter, very formally, informing them that any further attempt to obtain my confidential legal information would be referred to the police.
Here’s the thing I keep coming back to. For two years, they’d known exactly how much I had. Exactly what my will said. And they’d planned around it. The extra babysitting requests. The “small loans” for the mortgage. The sudden interest in my health.
And then, the moment I stopped being useful to them, they told me I made everyone uncomfortable.
I didn’t change the will back. I did change it a little. I left a trust for each of my three grandchildren, for their education, to be managed by Mr. Hughes until they’re twenty-five. The rest still goes to charity. Specifically, to a foundation that helps elderly people who’ve been financially exploited by family members. Mr. Hughes thought that was a nice touch.
My son and I didn’t speak for six months. Then, in June, he came to see me alone. He didn’t ask about the will. He just sat down at my kitchen table and said, “Jessica and I are in counseling. Our counselor asked me when I stopped seeing you as my mom and started seeing you as a bank account. I didn’t have an answer. I’ve been thinking about it every day.”
“What did you decide?” I asked.
“That I don’t know,” he said. “But I’d like to try to find out. If you’ll let me.”
I made him a cup of coffee. That’s where we are.
I spent Christmas this year with my sister and her family in Vermont. We went sledding. I’m seventy-four. I wiped out spectacularly and laughed so hard I couldn’t get up. My nephew took a video.
I sent it to my son. He sent back a laughing emoji and a heart. It’s a start.
