Chapter 2: The Money Her Mother Left Behind
Marcus didn't ask Tasha whether she was all right.
He didn't explain the transaction.
He didn't even look at the bank notice again.
He reached for it.
“Give it to me,” he repeated.
Tasha stepped backward.
“Why is Mom's money being sent to a car dealership?””
“Because you don't understand the arrangement.””
“Then explain it.””
“Not here.””
“You took almost fifty thousand dollars!””
His eyes flicked toward the neighbors.
“Keep your voice down.””
Something about his insistence on privacy made my stomach tighten.
He had no problem announcing that I deserved a luxurious SUV. He had no problem telling Tasha to be grateful for fifty dollars. He had no problem treating her college deposit like an unreasonable demand.
But now that she was asking where her mother's money had gone, suddenly everything needed to be discussed behind closed doors.
“No,” I said.
“You don't get to move this conversation somewhere nobody can hear it.””
Marcus swung his gaze toward me.
“This has nothing to do with you.””
“It's my car sitting in the driveway.””
“It is a family purchase.””
“Then explain why her money paid for it.””
“Enough!””
His shout made several neighbors jump.
Tasha flinched.
I felt her fingers close around mine.
Marcus noticed.
“Go inside, both of you. Now.””
My mother hurried down the driveway, her heels clicking against the pavement.
She had abandoned any attempt at smiling.
“What is going on?”” she demanded, looking first at Marcus and then at the paper in Tasha's hand.
Tasha raised the notice.
“Did you know?””
My mother looked at it.
For a moment, her expression was unreadable.
Then she glanced toward Marcus.
The exchange lasted less than a second.
It was enough.
“You knew,” Tasha whispered.
Nia crossed her arms.
“Your father handles the finances. I don't know every transaction.””
“Did you know?””
“I said I don't know every transaction.””
“But you knew about the car.””
My mother lifted her chin.
“Of course I knew about the car. It was Maya's birthday present.””
“Did you know he used my trust?””
Nobody moved.
Even the neighbor who had been pretending to water his lawn stopped holding the hose over the same patch of grass.
My mother looked at Marcus again.
This time, he answered for her.
“We used money that was available to the family.””
Tasha stared at him as though she hadn't heard correctly.
“My mother's trust isn't family money.””
“Your mother wanted you taken care of.””
“That's why she left it to me!””
“And you've been taken care of,” Marcus snapped.
“You have a roof over your head, food in the refrigerator, and a job. We raised you. We paid for your clothes, your school expenses, everything you needed.””
Tasha's lips parted.
Then closed.
I recognized the expression on her face. It was what happened when somebody hurt you so badly that your mind temporarily couldn't decide which feeling deserved to come first.
“You told me there wasn't enough money for my college deposit,” she said.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“You were applying to several schools. We had to make decisions.””
“You told me to save another year.””
“And that was sensible advice.””
“You bought Maya a car with my mother's money.””
He pointed toward the house.
“Go inside.””
Tasha shook her head.
“No.””
It was the smallest word.
Yet Marcus seemed more offended by it than he had been by all my shouting.
“You're nineteen,” he said.
“You live under my roof. You do not get to stand here and accuse me of stealing when you have absolutely no understanding of what it takes to run a household.””
Tasha swallowed.
“Then show me the records.””
His eyebrows drew together.
“What?””
“Show me the trust statements. Show me the transaction records. Show me where the money went.””
“That's private financial information.””
“It's my trust.””
“I'm the one who has managed it all these years.””
“Then it should be easy to show me.””
My mother stepped between them.
“Tasha, your father has done more for you than you realize. Elena would have wanted you to trust him.””
Tasha stared at her.
“Don't use my mother to make me feel guilty.””
The words came out quietly, but they landed like a slap.
For the first time, Nia had nothing to say.
I looked at Marcus.
“Whose name is on the Toyota title?””
He turned toward me.
“What?””
“Who legally owns the car?””
“That's between me and the dealership.””
“Is it in Tasha's name?””
“No.””
“Is it in your name?””
He hesitated.
It was brief, but I saw it.
Then he said, “It's being registered as a family vehicle.””
“So the money came from Tasha's trust, but Tasha doesn't own the car?””
“That's not how this works.””
“Then how does it work?””
“You are a child, Maya. You have no idea how financial decisions are made.””
I almost laughed.
He had used a legal-sounding sentence to avoid answering a simple question.
Behind him, my mother started gathering the balloons, her movements sharp and frantic. She tugged one loose from the railing and shoved the string into a plastic bag.
The party was disappearing piece by piece.
Perhaps she thought that if she removed the decorations, she could erase what had happened beneath them.
Tasha looked at the bank notice again.
“Mom set up that account before she got sick,” she said.
“She made you promise you would use it for my education.””
Marcus's face tightened.
“Your mother made a lot of promises and plans before she understood how difficult things would become.””
“You promised her.””
“She was dying, Tasha. She needed reassurance.””
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Tasha stared at him.
“Are you saying you never meant it?””
Marcus looked away.
“I'm saying life is complicated.””
Tasha gave a tiny, broken laugh.
“No. Life is complicated. This is stealing money from a dead woman's daughter.””
My mother gasped.
Marcus took one step forward.
“Take that back.””
Tasha didn't move.
“No.””
His hand closed around the edge of the bank notice.
She pulled away, and the paper tore down the middle.
For a moment, both of them stared at the torn document.
Then Marcus let go.
“That's enough,” he said.
“I'm done entertaining this.””
He walked toward the house.
My mother followed him after shooting Tasha a look full of disappointment, as if her stepdaughter had committed some terrible act by asking for her own money.
I stood with Tasha on the sidewalk until the front door slammed.
A few neighbors quietly dispersed. One woman approached us and asked whether we needed a ride.
I thanked her, but Tasha shook her head.
“We're fine.””
We weren't.
We were nineteen and seventeen, standing beside a mailbox, holding half a bank notice while a fifty-thousand-dollar vehicle sat in the driveway behind us.
But we were together.
That mattered more than I had understood before that morning.
“Where can we go?”” I asked.
Tasha stared down the road.
“My friend Brianna is at work until four. She might let us sit at her apartment, but I don't want to drag her into this.””
“Then let's call Aunt Denise.””
Tasha looked at me.
“My aunt?””
“Your mother's sister. The one who came to your graduation party.””
“She lives forty minutes away.””
“Good. That's forty minutes away from this driveway.””
For the first time that morning, Tasha almost smiled.
She took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts.
Her finger hovered over a name.
Aunt Denise.
Before she could press it, the front door opened again.
Marcus stood on the porch.
“Girls.””
Neither of us turned fully toward him.
He descended the steps, carrying a large brown envelope.
“I want to settle this properly.””
Tasha went still.
“What does that mean?””
He held up the envelope.
“These are the documents relating to your trust. I can show you exactly why this transaction was necessary.””
I studied his face.
For once, he sounded calm.
Almost reasonable.
It was the version of Marcus our neighbors knew. The man who never lost control. The man who could make an apology sound like a favor and a demand sound like common sense.
Tasha hesitated.
Then she took a step toward him.
I caught her wrist.
“Wait.””
Marcus frowned.
“Don't interfere, Maya.””
I looked at the envelope.
“Why didn't you give her those records before?””
“Because she never asked.””
“She asked for the money for college.””
“That is not the same thing.””
Tasha reached for the envelope.
Marcus let her take it.
Her hands shook as she opened the flap.
The first page was a trust summary.
The second was a transaction history.
The third was a photocopy of a document bearing Tasha's signature.
She frowned.
“I didn't sign this.””
Marcus's expression barely changed.
“Yes, you did.””
“No, I didn't.””
She turned the page toward me.
The document was dated two months earlier, when Tasha had been eighteen and preparing her college applications.
At the top, in bold letters, were the words *BENEFICIARY AUTHORIZATION AND DISTRIBUTION AGREEMENT*.
At the bottom was her name.
Tasha Brooks.
Her signature looked almost like hers.
Almost.
Except the final letter in Brooks curled in the wrong direction, and the T in Tasha began with a long horizontal stroke she never used.
I had seen her sign birthday cards, school forms, and countless grocery receipts.
I knew her handwriting.
“This isn't your signature,” I whispered.
Tasha's face went blank.
She looked up at her father.
“What did you do?””
Marcus reached for the pages.
“Give those back. You don't know what you're looking at.””
Tasha pulled the papers to her chest.
“No.””
He stepped closer.
“I'm warning you.””
I positioned myself between them.
“And I'm warning you. Don't touch her.””
His eyes widened.
For one heartbeat, I thought he might grab me.
Then he looked over my shoulder, toward the neighboring houses. People were still watching through their windows.
He exhaled slowly.
“Fine,” he said.
“Keep the papers. But don't pretend you understand what they mean.””
He turned and walked back toward the house.
Tasha waited until he was inside before unfolding the last page.
It was a statement authorizing the withdrawal of nearly fifty thousand dollars from the trust.
Under the signature was a sentence that made my blood run cold.
I voluntarily authorize the release of these funds for the purchase of a motor vehicle for family use.
And beneath that sentence, somebody had written Tasha's name.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she opened her phone and called Aunt Denise.
When her aunt answered, Tasha could barely speak.
“Aunt Denise,” she whispered, “I need you to tell me something about Mom's trust.””
There was a pause.
May you like
Then her aunt asked a question that made Tasha's face crumble.
“Did Marcus finally take the money?””
