Then she made dinner for one.
She ate it at the table Gerald had bought at an estate sale in 2003.
And she thought about what Jack had said.
“We know some people who are good at reading the whole story.”
She thought about what that meant.
She thought about the folder she had found in the financial records.
How Jack had said the problem had been handled.
How she hadn’t asked what that meant.
Because some questions were better not asked.
She washed her dishes.
She went to bed.
She stared at the ceiling for a while.
Then she slept better than she had in months.
She didn’t entirely know why.
The next morning, before her Thursday shift, her phone rang.
It was a number she didn’t recognize.
Local area code.
No name attached.
She answered the way she answered everything.
Directly.
“Evelyn Parker.”
“Mrs. Parker?”
A woman’s voice.
Professional.
Measured.
“My name is Sandra Voss.”
“I’m an attorney.”
“I’ve been asked to make contact with you regarding a civil matter that I believe pertains to your situation.”
“I was referred by a mutual acquaintance.”
Evelyn sat down.
“What acquaintance?”
A brief pause.
“The referral was made through a third party on your behalf.”
“I understand if that’s confusing.”
“I want to be transparent with you.”
“I was contacted and asked if I had capacity to review a situation involving potential elder financial abuse.”
“And whether I’d be willing to do an initial consultation at no charge.”
Another pause.
“I said yes.”
“This call is the result of that.”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Sandra continued.
“This is just a call.”
“You can hang up right now and that’s the end of it.”
“What do you need from me?” Evelyn asked.
“About 45 minutes of your time.”
“And a list of documents if you’re willing to gather them.”
“The kind that would show the sequence of transactions and transfers over the last three years.”
“Whatever you have access to.”
“I have access to almost nothing.”
Evelyn said.
“My grandson has…”
“I know,” Sandra said.
“That’s actually useful information in itself.”
“Can you tell me what you do have?”
She could.
She had her memory.
Which was excellent.
She had Gerald’s original will.
A copy she had kept in a place Ryan didn’t know about.
A fireproof box in the back of her bedroom closet behind three decades of Christmas ornaments.
She had the dates of everything.
Because she had been paying attention.
Even during the months when she told herself she wasn’t.
Because some part of her had known.
Some part she hadn’t been ready to listen to.
That she might need the dates later.
She spent 45 minutes with Sandra Voss that morning.
And when the call ended, she sat at her kitchen table feeling like someone had opened a window in a room that had been sealed for over a year.