That’s all she’s saying.

That’s all I’m saying.”

“And have you,” I asked, very softly, “been handing my private bank statements over to your aunt Shirley?”

The color drained from his face.

“I — I was just trying to help, Mom,” he stammered.

“She said she needed to see the balances so she could help us work out your living budget, after Dad.

She said it was for you.”

I looked at my youngest child for a long moment, and what I saw was not malice.