Page 38 of Love, Untangled

Pen sobered, aware of just how deeply Cora’s death impacted Carlo.

“So we need to go over your grandmother’s accounts. I assume you brought the necessary documents?” Marvin smiled apologetically. “I have to make copies and—”

“I understand.” Pen had read up on the transfer of accounts. Her grandmother had a will, and Pen had spoken to the attorney in town who’d drawn it up, but her nana hadn’t hired the lawyer to adjudicate the will so Pen was on her own.

And she needed to do this herself. She must prove that she could manage her own affairs. Not a girl acting the role of a woman.

This meeting was step one. She pulled out the file with the necessary documents. She handed them over to Marvin. “Those are your copies,” she said. “I made a few at the library earlier.”

Marvin smiled. “Thanks. That was kind of you.”

Pen shrugged, her nerves flaring back to life and making her skin pull tight. Maybe she hadn’t needed to do that step. She chewed on her lip, wondering if she’d misstepped while Marvin input data into his computer.

“All right. So, Garland had most of her bills on autopay, which has continued. As long as that works for you, there’s no reason to change anything. But we do need to change the account to your name.”

“All right. What do I need to do to make that happen?”

“There’s a form. But first, let me show you what your grandmother had in her accounts.” Marvin’s expression shifted as he read some more. He swallowed, his expression morphing into concern. “Hold on.”

Pen did—to her chair. Fear coursed through her because she knew that look. Marvin popped out of his chair and hurried from his office.

* * *

Pen left the bank in a daze. Garland Davis had substantial bank accounts.

No, not Garland. Not anymore. Now those funds were Pen’s mother’s. She’d managed to swoop in during the past month and moved the money to another account—in her name.

Leaving Pen without her nana’s funds. The money her nana had worked too hard to keep out of Serena’s hands for years. Pen had failed her nana, but she’d never considered her mother would finagle the money—why would she? Sure, Serena still used her husband’s last name, Davis, but Pen couldn’t figure out how her mother had been able to establish a connection to Garland’s account.

“I should have come here the moment I arrived,” Pen muttered, anger bursting hot in her chest—anger directed at herself. If she’d brought all the documents right away, she might have been able to stop her mother. But she hadn’t known so she hadn’t considered the possibility.

“Who are you talking to, dear?” Birdie asked, appearing at Pen’s elbow.

She glanced behind her to find the ever-present golf cart. Pen placed her hand to her chest, her heart thumping hard under her palm. “You scared me,” Pen said.

“Sorry about that. I was on my way to the café.” She motioned to the golf cart. “Why don’t you join me and tell me all about it?”

Pen followed Birdie to the cart and settled in beside the older woman. She couldn’t burden Carlo with her financial mess, so she took the older woman up on the offer. By the end of the story, they’d arrived at the café, ordered drinks, and settled into a cozy table in the corner. Pen felt drained.

“Now that’s a tale,” Birdie murmured. “Hmm. And there’s no way your mother would give you the money back—”

“Not a chance,” Pen said, her tone flat. She took a sip of her drink, wincing as the heat sizzled over her tongue.

Birdie tapped her lips. “So you and your mother…”

Pen laughed, but it was bitter. “We don’t get along. Not for a while, and definitely not since I caught her stealing from me.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them back. Crying wouldn’t solve anything, but it would make her head hurt even more than it already did.

“My mother is more than willing to take. But she doesn’t reciprocate. Stealing from me was the last straw. That’s why I came here. And if I’d been smarter, I could have saved Nana’s money.”

Birdie patted her hand. “How could you have known?”

Pen shot her a look. “Because I know my mother.” Her shoulders slumped. “No doubt she’ll come here to try and steal Nana’s house too.”

Birdie straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Then we better come up with a plan to make that impossible.”

Pen rubbed her forehead, the ache growing too much for her to think straight. “That’s what I’ve spent most of my life attempting to accomplish.”

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