Chapter 5
The foundation was the one thing my mother loved almost as much as her family.
She and six women from church started it after a neighbor died alone in his apartment.
He couldn't afford reliable transportation to his medical appointments.
By the time anyone realized how sick he was, it was too late.
Mom never forgot him.
She began organizing grocery deliveries.
Then rides to clinics.
Then small emergency grants for older residents.
Over the years, the foundation grew.
It wasn't wealthy.
Most donations came from local businesses, church members, and families who wanted to help.
Every dollar mattered.
And now Rachel was telling me foundation money had entered the wedding account.
I felt physically sick.
"How much?" I asked.
"At least twelve thousand dollars, based on the records we've reviewed."
I closed my eyes.
Twelve thousand.
That could pay for months of grocery deliveries.
It could help elderly people keep their electricity on.
It could provide transportation for dozens of medical appointments.
And someone had moved it toward a wedding.
I took a deep breath.
"Who authorized it?"
Rachel hesitated.
"The transfer instructions appear to bear the name of the foundation's treasurer."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"Celeste Parker."
I stopped breathing.
Nia's mother.
Celeste had joined the foundation's finance committee eight months earlier.
She told Mom she had experience managing charitable accounts.
Mom was delighted.
She believed Nia's family was embracing the work she cared about.
Now I wondered whether Celeste joined simply to gain access.
I stared at the phone.
"Rachel, we need to secure the foundation accounts."
"I agree. The board should review access immediately and preserve all transaction records."
I nodded.
After ending the call, I contacted the foundation's president, Mrs. Loretta King.
She was seventy-two, a retired school principal, and one of Mom's closest friends.
When I explained the suspicious transfer, she became quiet.
Then she whispered, "Marcus, please tell me you're mistaken."
"I hope I am."
She took a shaky breath.
"We have a delivery scheduled Monday."
My throat tightened.
"I know."
"Twenty-seven seniors are depending on us."
I stared at the hospital wall.
"We'll make sure they get their groceries."
She began crying.
"Your mother would be devastated."
I closed my eyes.
"She already is."
That afternoon, Mrs. King arranged an emergency board meeting.
The foundation's bank was notified of the disputed transactions.
Celeste's access was suspended pending review.
Independent accounting assistance was requested.
And the board preserved the available records.
I attended the meeting with Rachel.
Celeste did not.
She sent a short message claiming she was being unfairly accused.
Mrs. King read it aloud.
Then placed her phone on the table.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, an elderly board member named Mr. Harris asked a question.
"Where did the twelve thousand go?"
Rachel answered carefully.
"The current records suggest it entered an account used for wedding-related payments and transfers."
Mr. Harris looked devastated.
"We trusted her."
I nodded.
"So did we."
He shook his head.
"That money belongs to the people we serve."
I felt tears rise.
"Yes."
Then I made a decision.
"I'll cover Monday's grocery deliveries."
Mrs. King immediately protested.
"Marcus, you don't have to."
I shook my head.
"I know."
I looked around the table.
"But those people shouldn't suffer because someone else made terrible choices."
Nobody argued.
That evening, I visited Mom.
She was sitting upright in bed.
Her mint-green jacket lay folded on a chair.
I sat beside her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better."
She smiled faintly.
"The doctor says I may go home soon."
I nodded.
"That's good."
She studied me.
"There's something you're not telling me."
I hesitated.
Then took her hand.
"Mom, we found questionable transfers from the foundation."
Her face changed.
"What?"
I explained.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I didn't hide anything.
When I finished, she covered her mouth.
"Oh, Lord."
Her eyes filled.
"Mrs. Walker needs groceries."
I nodded.
"I know."
"And Mr. Jenkins has dialysis Monday."
"We're arranging transportation."
She began crying.
I leaned forward.
"Mom, the board is handling it."
She shook her head.
"Those people trusted us."
My throat tightened.
"They still can."
She looked at me.
"Marcus."
I squeezed her hand.
"We're going to put everything right that we can."
She held my gaze.
Then nodded.
I sat with her until she calmed down.
But before leaving, she asked something that surprised me.
"Have you heard from Nia?"
I looked down.
"Yes."
She waited.
"What did she say?"
I took a breath.
"She wants to talk."
Mom closed her eyes.
Then whispered, "I hope she tells the truth."
So did I.
The next morning, Nia appeared at the hospital.
She wore jeans and a gray sweater.
Her hair was pulled back.
She looked exhausted.
I'd asked her not to visit Mom without permission.
She respected that request and waited in the lobby.
When I arrived, she stood quickly.
"Marcus."
I nodded.
"Nia."
Her eyes filled.
"Can we sit?"
I agreed.
We sat near the window.
For a moment, she stared at her hands.
Then whispered, "I'm sorry about the jacket."
I watched her carefully.
"Why did you do it?"
She began crying.
"I was angry."
"About a color?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I waited.
Then she looked at me.
"Your mother kept reminding me I wasn't in control."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
"She asked questions about the money."
I stared at her.
"Because it was her money."
Nia looked down.
"I know."
I took a breath.
"Did you know Celeste transferred foundation funds?"
Her face went pale.
For several seconds, she didn't answer.
Then whispered, "Yes."
Something inside me broke again.
"You knew?"
She nodded.
"I found out afterward."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
I stared at her.
"And you didn't tell anyone?"
She began crying harder.
"Mom said she'd replace it."
I closed my eyes.
How many times had I heard those words?
She'd replace it.
The investment would recover.
The money would come back.
Meanwhile, people were missing real services.
I looked at Nia.
"Did you tell your mother to stop?"
She shook her head.
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
She whispered, "That she'd lose the house."
I stared at her.
Celeste's mortgage.
The missing wedding money.
The foundation transfer.
Every piece led back to the same secret.
Nia's family was financially collapsing.
And instead of asking for help honestly, they'd used my mother's generosity.
I stood.
"This conversation is over."
Nia began crying.
"Marcus, please!"
I looked at her.
"I need you to cooperate with the financial review."
She nodded rapidly.
"I will."
"And I need you to stop contacting my mother."
Her face crumpled.
"Okay."
I turned toward the elevator.
Then Nia called my name.
"Marcus!"
I stopped.
She swallowed.
"There's something else."
I looked back.
Her face was pale.
"Mom didn't just use the foundation money."
My stomach tightened.
Nia continued.
"She has another account."
I stared at her.
"What account?"
Nia began trembling.
"The one she opened using your mother's information."
I felt cold all over.
May you like
Because suddenly, I understood that Celeste hadn't simply taken money offered to her.
She may have been using my mother's identity without permission.
