The 174 Payments My Son Thought I Would Keep Making

The third person stepped out of the vehicle.

I knew him immediately.

It was Richard Bennett.

Benjamin’s financial adviser.

The man who had helped my husband, Thomas, manage our investments for more than twenty years.

The man who had attended Thomas’s funeral.

 

The man who had once told me, “If you ever need anything, Mrs. Kelley, you call me.”

Apparently, I was about to find out whether he meant it.

Richard closed the car door and looked toward my house.

Benjamin stood beside him.

Genevieve remained on the other side of the vehicle, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

 

I didn’t move.

I simply stood behind the curtain and watched them.

My tea had gone cold.

For the first time that morning, I wasn’t angry.

I was curious.

Why would Benjamin bring his financial adviser to my house?

Then