PART 2
The silence that followed was deafening. Terrence stared at his hands. Lennox examined her perfectly manicured nails.
“Actually, Mom,” Terrence finally said, “we were hoping we could stay here with you. Just temporarily, while we figure things out.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard.
“Stay here?”
“It would just be for a little while,” he rushed to explain. “Maybe a few months. We wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“But what happened to the money from the sale?” I asked.
Another silence. This one felt heavier, more dangerous.
“Well,” Lennox said, smoothing her skirt, “I had some expenses. Things I needed to take care of.”
“What kind of expenses?”
“Personal things,” she said, her tone suggesting the conversation was over, but I wasn’t ready to let it go.
“Lennox, you just sold a house for over six hundred thousand dollars. What could possibly—”
“I bought some jewelry,” she interrupted. “And some clothes. I got my car detailed and upgraded the interior. I also took a spa trip to California with my sister. Oh, and I paid off my credit cards.”
I stared at her, waiting for her to continue to explain where the rest of the money went. When she didn’t, I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“How much jewelry?” I asked quietly.
“Does it matter?” Lennox snapped. “It was my money to spend.”
“Your money?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Terrence finally looked up at me.
“Mom, please. We just need a place to stay while we get back on our feet.”
“Get back on your feet?” I repeated. “Terrence, you just had over half a million dollars. How are you not on your feet?”
“It’s complicated,” he mumbled.
I looked between my son and his wife, seeing them clearly for perhaps the first time. Terrence, my boy whom I’d raised to be responsible, to think before acting, was sitting in my living room homeless despite having just had more money than most people see in a lifetime. And Lennox, who had never worked a day since marrying my son, was sitting there in what looked like a brand-new outfit that probably cost more than my monthly Social Security check.
“Where did all the money go, Lennox?” I asked again, my voice firmer this time.
She rolled her eyes.
“I told you, I had expenses.”
“Six hundred and twenty thousand dollars’ worth of expenses?”
“It’s not your business, Bessie.”
Something snapped inside me.
“It became my business when you showed up at my door asking for a place to live.”
Terrence put his head in his hands.
“Mom, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Harder than it has to be,” I repeated. I stood up, my coffee forgotten. “Terrence, help me understand this. You had a beautiful house, money in the bank, and now you’re asking to move in with your 64-year-old mother because your wife spent it all on jewelry and spa trips?”
“It wasn’t just jewelry and spa trips,” Lennox said defensively. “I had debts to pay off.”
“What debts?”
“Credit card debts.”
“How much?”
She glared at me.
“Enough.”
I felt like I was drowning.
“Terrence,” I said, looking at my son.
He raised his head and I saw something in his eyes that broke my heart. He looked defeated, embarrassed, but also resigned, like he’d given up fighting long ago.
“How much debt did she have?” I asked him directly.
“Mom…”
“How much, Terrence?”
He sighed deeply.
“About eighty thousand. Eighty thousand in credit card debt.”
I felt dizzy.
“What did she buy with eighty thousand dollars on credit cards?”
“Clothes mostly,” he said quietly. “Shoes, handbags, vacations before we were married. And the rest of the money from the house…” Terrence looked at Lennox, who was now studying her phone as if this conversation didn’t concern her. “She wanted to redecorate her sister’s house as a surprise,” he said. “And she bought a new car for her mother. And she… she wanted to invest in her friend’s business.”
“What kind of business?”
“A boutique,” Lennox said without looking up from her phone. “It’s going to be very successful.”
“How much did you invest?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
The number hit me like a physical blow. Three hundred thousand dollars invested in a friend’s boutique by a woman who had never run a business, never held a job, never shown any interest in anything beyond shopping and spa treatments.
“So let me get this straight,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You sold your house for $620,000. Eighty thousand went to pay off Lennox’s credit card debts. Three hundred thousand went to invest in her friend’s boutique. What happened to the rest?”
“I told you,” Lennox said, finally looking up from her phone with irritation. “I had expenses. The jewelry, the spa trips, the car detailing, some furniture for the boutique, gifts for my family. Things add up.”
I calculated quickly in my head. Even being generous with her expenses, there should have been at least fifty thousand left, maybe more.
“Where’s the rest of the money?” I asked.
“There is no rest,” Lennox said. “It’s gone.”
Gone. Over $600,000 gone in a matter of months on jewelry, spa trips, credit card debts, and a boutique investment that I was willing to bet would never see a profit.
I sank back into my chair, feeling every one of my 64 years settling into my bones. This wasn’t just about money. This was about the son I’d raised, the values I’d tried to instill in him, and the woman who had somehow convinced him to throw it all away.
“So now you want to live here,” I said.
“Just temporarily,” Terrence repeated.
I looked around my small home. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen. I’d worked for thirty years to pay off this house, to have a place that was mine, where I could live out my retirement in peace.
“And what’s your plan?” I asked. “How do you intend to get back on your feet?”
May you like
Terrence and Lennox exchanged a look.
“Well,” Lennox said, “Terrence will keep working, obviously, and I’m sure the boutique will start turning a profit soon. And if it doesn’t…” She shrugged. “Then we’ll figure something else out.”
