“That’s nice, son. You know you’re always welcome here.” He stood in the kitchen longer than necessary. He looked around as if searching for something specific. His eyes stopped on the small desk by the window where I usually pay the bills. My purse was there, half open, with my wallet just peeking out.
“So… how are you doing with your finances?” he asked. “Mom, everything okay with the bank and all that?”
There it was. The real reason for the visit. “Fine, Mark. Everything’s fine. You know I’m careful with my things.”
“No, of course. I’m just asking because Clare and I were thinking maybe you could use some help managing your money better,” he said. “You know, there are investments, accounts that earn interest. You could be making more.”
I smiled as I poured the hot water into two cups—one for him, one for me. The steam rose between us like a transparent curtain. “Oh, son. I’m too old for all those modern things. I prefer my old-fashioned way. That way, I don’t get confused.”
“But, Mom, seriously, you could have a lot more. We could help you,” he pressed. “We could even open a joint account. That way, if something happens to you—”
“If something happens to me,” I interrupted gently, “everything is in order. I already have my papers ready. My will is already drawn up. You don’t have to worry about that.”
I saw him clench his jaw just for a second. Just a twitch. “That’s not why, Mom. It’s because we want you to be safe. For your money to be well protected.”
“It is protected, Mark. Very protected.”
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