My Son Forgot To Hang Up After Telling Me They Were Celebrating Thanksgiving Somewhere Else

Cordelia set the second sheet down very slowly. It was the closing statement from Troy and Lacey’s house purchase, and the down payment line showed a single source: Gloria Novak, $25,000. “Lacey,” she said quietly, “you told us Gloria never helped you with anything. You told us our thirty thousand paid for this house.” She looked up. “Then where did our thirty thousand dollars go?”

No one answered. Warren put down his coffee cup without drinking from it. Troy turned to his wife, his face going from confused to sick. “What thirty thousand?” he asked. Lacey’s eyes filled with tears, and she pushed back her chair as if she might run. Renee calmly opened one more folder. “I may be able to answer that,” she said. “Troy is a co-signer on the account it went into.”

Adrian Vale
Adrian Vale studied English literature. He is a novelist. He writes atmospheric literary fiction, quiet, character-driven stories about people who drift out of their own lives and the strange, lingering things that find them afterward.

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