Chapter 5
The former accounts manager’s name was Paula Finch.
She agreed to speak with Daniel, Miriam, and me at the office. I had expected someone defensive. Paula arrived pale and carrying a notebook she had kept from her time there.
“I should have asked you directly,” she said before we had even sat down.
“Tell me what you remember.”
Paula opened her notebook.
Lauren had submitted the first Laurel House invoice shortly after Thomas’s death. It came with a list of donor calls and event tasks. Michael had told Paula that I had approved it.
“Did Lauren say the same?” Daniel asked.
“She said Eleanor was exhausted and Michael was handling things for her.”
My hands grew cold.
Paula had asked Miriam, who was away on family leave that week. Michael had then sent an email saying to process the payment before the end of the month.
Paula looked at me.
“I believed him. He was your son. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve told us now,” I said.
Daniel asked whether she had kept the email. She had.
The next two invoices had arrived after Paula left. Miriam’s new accountant had held them for supporting records.
There was still a chance Lauren had done real work. The office’s email archive would tell us more.
By afternoon, Miriam had found the event correspondence. Lauren had made some calls and helped arrange one dinner. Most of the listed work, however, had been done by staff at the charity or by Miriam’s team.
One invoice described a donor dinner that had been canceled before invitations went out.
I called Michael.
“We found records,” I said.
He sounded tired. “Then you know she helped.”
“She helped with one dinner. The invoices include work other people did and a dinner that never happened.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Please do.”
“You could have come to me first.”
“I asked you yesterday.”
“I meant before you called an attorney.”
I closed my eyes.
“Michael, someone wrote down that I gave verbal approval. I did not.”
He was silent long enough that I thought the call had dropped.
Then he said, “I told Paula you would be fine with it.”
“That isn’t approval.”
“I know that now.”
“Did you know what was in Lauren’s invoice?”
“I knew she was helping with the events. I didn’t check every line.”
I believed that he had not checked. I also believed he had found it convenient not to.
“I need you both to give Daniel the records you have,” I said. “No more requests through the office until we understand everything.”
“That’s going to hurt my business.”
“Tell me how.”
“Some of our meetings use the office space. The house at the lake too.”
Those arrangements had begun when Thomas was alive. They were written down, with limits Michael had stopped paying attention to.
“I’ll honor the current agreements while Daniel reviews them,” I said. “New expenses will wait.”
His voice broke slightly.
“Are you cutting me out of the family?”
“No. I’m asking you to account for what you’ve requested.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It isn’t.”
Later that day, Lauren arrived at the office alone.
Miriam showed her into the conference room. She wore the cream coat I had admired at Christmas and carried a neat binder.
“I brought everything I have,” she said.
For a brief moment, I hoped the binder would settle it.
She opened to photographs from charity dinners, copies of invitations, and handwritten notes about donors. Some pages showed work she really had done.
Daniel asked about the canceled dinner.
Lauren flipped through the binder.
“That was planning time.”
“The invoice calls it event management and guest coordination,” he said.
“Planning takes time.”
“How many hours?”
“I didn’t track every minute while my father-in-law had just died.”
Her voice rose. I saw grief and anger on her face, and I could not tell which parts belonged to Thomas.
“I’m not asking you to account for your feelings,” I said. “I’m asking what you billed for.”
She snapped the binder shut.
“You’ve always thought I married Michael for his money.”
“I have never said that.”
“You never had to.”
I sat back.
I could think of times I had been distant. Thomas and I had been close to Michael’s first girlfriend, and perhaps I had let Lauren feel the difference. I had tried to repair it through invitations and help, without asking what she needed from me.
“I may have made you feel unwelcome,” I said. “I’m willing to hear about that. It doesn’t explain the false approval.”
Lauren’s eyes filled.
“Michael handled the approval.”
The door opened behind her.
Michael had arrived early for a meeting he had requested with Daniel. He had heard her.
“What do you mean, I handled it?” he asked.
Lauren turned.
“You told me your mother would pay.”
“I told you we could submit an invoice for the work.”
“You said she had agreed.”
“I said she probably would.”
The difference between those statements seemed to hang in the room.
Daniel quietly asked them to send the remaining records and offered to give them time to talk outside.
They left together, still arguing in low voices.
Miriam sat beside me.
“You all right?”
“I don’t know.”
Through the glass wall, I saw Michael stop walking. Lauren faced him, her hands shaking. For once, neither seemed able to make the other take responsibility.
An hour later, Michael returned alone.
“She wants to refund the first payment,” he said.
“That would help.”
“She says I put her in this position.”
“Did you?”
He looked down at the conference table.
“I told her I could make it happen. I wanted her to think I could.”
I had no reply.
May you like
He swallowed.
“And I still haven’t told Emma the truth.”
