“I have to make sure every date and dollar amount matches the official bank ledgers,” I said.

I twisted my grandmother’s silver ring around my thumb twice before picking up the next folder.

The wooden table was covered with neat rows of paper, sorted into folders by year and type of transaction.

I picked up the yellowed deposit slip from six years ago, showing sixty-five thousand dollars moved straight from my grandmother’s estate into our house escrow account on October fourteenth.

“Last summer Mark told his account managers that his corporate bonuses paid for our down payment,” I said.