I remained standing.
Genevieve began as soon as the front door closed.
“Last night was a misunderstanding.”
“No,” I said.
“The message was clear.”
Her mouth tightened.
“We had business guests.
Benjamin was under pressure.
The seating was limited.”
“The townhouse has a dining table for ten.”
“That is not the point.”
“It became the point when my granddaughter asked why I was not coming.”
Benjamin finally looked at me.
“She was not supposed to text you.”
The room went still.
He seemed to realize what he had admitted only after the words left his mouth.
Genevieve turned sharply toward him.
I sat in the chair opposite them and placed the BENJAMIN folder on my lap.
“So she was told I was coming.”
Benjamin rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, please.”
“And then someone told her I was not.”
“It was a complicated evening.”
“It was dinner.”
Genevieve leaned forward.
“This is exactly why we were concerned.
You take everything personally.”
I looked down at the folder.
“A personal invitation usually is personal.”
Wesley coughed once into his fist.
I could not tell whether he was hiding discomfort or amusement.
Genevieve crossed her legs.
“We are willing to move past last night.
But you need to restore the accounts immediately.
Several obligations are due today.”
She spoke as if offering me mercy.
I opened the folder.
The first page was the bank’s summary of canceled authorizations.
“One hundred seventy-four obligations,” I said.
Benjamin’s face changed.
Genevieve did not blink.
“What are you talking about?”
“One hundred seventy-four recurring payments connected to Benjamin’s household, business, memberships, or family expenses.”
“That cannot be right,” Benjamin said.
I slid the first eight pages onto the coffee table.
“It is right.”
He glanced at the rows but did not pick them up.
Genevieve reached for the papers, scanned the first page, and tossed it back down.
“These are ordinary family arrangements.”
“Ordinary for whom?”
“Your son.”
“Yes.
My son.
A forty-nine-year-old man.”
Benjamin flinched.
Genevieve’s voice sharpened.
