“You took my paychecks to build a private fund at her credit union,” I said.

“Frank has the routing numbers for every bit of that twelve thousand dollars.”

Eleanor tugged at the lapels of her coat, her chin quivering slightly as she looked around the room.

“I spent twenty-five years raising my son to be a gentleman.

You had no business coming into our family and spying on our mail.”

“I didn’t spy on your mail, Eleanor,” I said quietly.

“I kept watch over my own life.”