“I want to show you what those records really say.”

We sat across from one another at the rectangular oak table.

I opened the blue plastic binder and laid the notarized statements flat on the wood between us.

Margaret set her teacup down near the edge of the placemat.

She looked at the blue notary stamp still drying on the top ledger page without reaching out to turn it.

“These are official bank transfers,” I said.

“Twenty-four months of nine hundred forty dollars sent from my personal account straight into your mortgage account.”