Chapter 17 - Thirty Two Dollars
I kept thirty two dollars in cash for years.
Not same bills.
A habit.
Emergency.
At first it was fear.
Then practical.
Catherine teased.
“You know cards exist.”
“Yes.”
“Apple Pay.”
“Yes.”
“You’re becoming seventy.”
“You are seventy.”
“Exactly. Learn from my mistakes.”
I laughed.
Then decisions.
Groceries.
My first couch.
A plane ticket to Wisconsin to see my sister? We had mentioned sister but not developed. Could visit. Let's name Jennifer, older? Olivia said sister Wisconsin not close. We can make relationship rebuild. But we already have many characters. Fine.
Jennifer called after news.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“We weren’t close.”
“Because Derek?”
“Partly.”
He had called her dramatic.
She stopped visiting.
Then:
“Can we try?”
“Yes.”
Slow.
Then my mother recovered.
I bought her groceries without asking anyone.
She stopped trying reimburse.
Good.
Then Catherine.
Our relationship changed after case.
I no longer stayed house.
We had lunch weekly.
She insisted I read investment reports aloud because screen reader voice annoyed.
I said:
“You have staff.”
“They lack sarcasm.”
Thomas:
“True.”
Then Catherine wanted me to join Wilmington Foundation board.
I said no.
“Why?”
“I work at library.”
“That is not reason.”
“I don’t want every part of life tied to you.”
Silence.
Then she smiled.
“Excellent.”
No offense.
A year later she asked if I would advise small literacy grant committee.
That fit.
I accepted volunteer.
No salary.
No rescue career.
Then Sterling Crown sale completed.
Great Lakes Motor Holdings.
The Gold Coast dealership remained sponsor of hospital gala.
Different management.
No Brenda.
No Derek.
Employees continued.
Howard Sloan retired.
His family scandal did not destroy business.
Catherine’s lender repaid.
Wilmington no longer involved.
Then Brenda.
She served a little over two years with credits.
Released.
Completed supervision.
Paid restitution through asset sale and earnings.
She never contacted me again after apology.
I eventually replied years later:
I received your letter. I appreciate the truth.
Nothing else.
Then Derek in prison.
He wrote two letters.
I returned first unopened.
Opened second after therapy years later.
Olivia,
There is no sentence I can write that makes bus stop smaller.
Then:
I used your isolation as a tool because I built it.
That line.
Then:
I told myself I was budgeting, but I liked being the person who could say yes or no.
He recognized.
Then:
Briarline was financial crime, but it depended on years of teaching you to trust me more than your own access.
Good.
Then:
I am sorry.
No request.
I kept.
No answer then.
Then financial recovery.
The bank removed fraud from credit.
My score recovered.
I applied for my own credit card.
Approved.
$5,000 limit.
I nearly framed.
Catherine said:
“Do not frame debt.”
I laughed.
Then first purchase.
Books.
$42.
Paid in full.
No guilt.
Then therapy asked:
“What happens when balance grows?”
“I pay.”
“Emotion?”
“Panic.”
We worked.
Money became numbers again.
Then I learned investments.
403b at library.
I had contributed minimal.
Increased.
Catherine helped conceptually but did not manage.
Independent planner from credit union.
Good.
Then apartment.
After three years, I bought small condo.
Not luxury.
Two bedroom.
Down payment from savings plus divorce/restitution funds? Some restitution. I did not want Derek’s money? It was mine recovered. Therapist:
“Recovered funds are not contaminated.”
I used part.
Catherine offered mortgage.
No.
Bank.
Own credit.
At closing, title:
Olivia Marie Reed.
I stared.
Then key.
Mine.
Catherine ran fingers over.
“Ugly.”
“Key?”
“Condo.”
“You’re blind.”
“I can smell cheap cabinets.”
I laughed.
Then first night.
I locked door.
Not because fear.
Because normal.
I slept.
May you like
No one waited for apology.
Continue to the next part: Olivia’s rebuilt finances become less dramatic than court but more important, while Catherine begins asking what their strange “grandmother and granddaughter” story means now.
