Chapter 2 - The Account With My Name On ItNeil waited until we were inside my parents' house before asking me what I intended to do.
Not because she was crying.
Hannah almost never cried in front of people.
She was standing perfectly still in her pale yellow dress, staring at the mason jar clutched against her chest.
The jar was empty.
Three days earlier, it had held exactly $1,651.26.
I knew because Hannah had made me count it twice.
Birthday money.
Christmas envelopes from her grandparents.
Five-dollar bills neighbors gave her for watering plants or pulling weeds.
Coins she found under couch cushions.
The twenty dollars her father, Neil, had slipped into her birthday card with a note that said, For something future-you will love.
Hannah called it her “college and puppy fund.”
She hadn't decided which one came first.
We were at my parents' backyard barbecue celebrating my nephew Logan's eighth birthday. String lights hung over the patio. Burgers smoked on the grill. Kids ran through sprinklers while my mother fussed over cupcakes and my father argued with Neil about baseball.
And my younger sister Trisha was passing out gifts.
Not birthday gifts for Logan.
Gifts for both of her children.
Expensive sneakers.
A glitter-covered tablet case.
A remote-control truck.
A designer backpack Stella had been begging for.
Everyone laughed as the kids ripped through tissue paper.
Everyone except Hannah.
I walked toward her.
“Honey?”
She flinched.
That was when I saw Trisha watching us.
Not nervously.
Defiantly.
“What happened to your money?” I asked.
Hannah stared at the empty jar.
Trisha answered for her.
“Oh, for heaven's sake, Claire. Don't make this dramatic.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
Trisha rolled her eyes.
“She contributed.”
“To what?”
“The gifts.”
I actually thought I'd misheard her.
“What gifts?”
She waved toward the mountain of wrapping paper.
“Those.”
Behind us, Logan shrieked happily as he opened another box.
Hannah's lower lip trembled.
I crouched in front of her.
“Hannah. Did you give Aunt Trisha your money?”
She looked at Trisha before answering me.
That tiny movement told me everything.
“Hannah.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“She said I had to.”
The backyard noise seemed to disappear.
I stood.
Trisha folded her arms.
“Oh, stop.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I told her family helps family.”
“You took sixteen hundred dollars from a seven-year-old?”
“She wasn't using it.”
Neil had reached us now.
My mother did too.
Trisha kept talking, louder because she knew she had an audience.
“My kids have had a horrible year, Claire. Logan's been struggling at school. Stella got excluded from that dance group. I wanted them to have one nice afternoon.”
“With Hannah's savings?”
“You've got plenty of money.”
“That isn't my money.”
Trisha laughed once.
“She's seven.”
Hannah whispered behind me.
“She said everyone would know.”
I turned.
“What?”
Her face crumpled.
“She said if I didn't give it to her, everybody would know I was a selfish little brat.”
Neil's expression changed instantly.
My father said, “Trisha.”
But Trisha shrugged.
“I was trying to teach her generosity.”
“You threatened my child.”
“Don't use words like threatened.”
“What word would you prefer?”
My mother stepped between us.
“Claire, everyone is upset. Let's not ruin Logan's birthday.”
I stared at her.
“My daughter was bullied out of every dollar she saved, and you're worried about cake?”
“Oh, come on,” Trisha snapped. “It's not like Hannah needs it.”
Hannah began crying.
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
She wrapped both arms around the empty jar and turned away as if she were ashamed.
I put my hand on Neil's arm before he could speak.
Then I looked at Trisha.
“You spent all of it?”
She hesitated.
Almost imperceptibly.
“All of what?”
“The $1,651.26.”
Her eyes sharpened.
She hadn't known the exact number.
“Basically.”
“Where is the rest?”
“There isn't any rest.”
“Receipts?”
Her face changed again.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You're going to audit me over children's gifts?”
“Yes.”
My mother sighed dramatically.
“Claire.”
I ignored her.
Trisha smirked.
And then she made the mistake that changed everything.
“You know what? Take it out of the tuition money if you're this obsessed with keeping score.”
The tuition money.
Forty thousand dollars.
The graduate-school fund I had spent two years quietly building because Trisha had begged me to help her finish a nursing program.
She had already chosen the school.
Already told relatives I was paying.
Already planned her life around money that was still legally sitting in an account with only my name on it.
I looked at Hannah.
Then at the empty jar.
Then at the pile of expensive gifts my sister had bought by frightening a child.
I set my iced tea down on the patio table.
I didn't shout.
I didn't threaten.
I simply took out my phone.
Trisha laughed.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing a mistake.”
She didn't understand.
Not yet.
Three hours later, she would.
May you like
Because by sunset, the $40,000 tuition fund she believed belonged to her would no longer exist.
And stealing $1,651.26 from my daughter would turn out to be the most expensive decision my sister had ever made.
