“Oh, don’t bother. I’m just here for a moment. But listen, Eleanor,” she said, lowering her voice like we were sharing a secret, “I wanted to ask you something important.”
She sat in the living room, legs crossed, very elegant, very composed. Clare always knew how to sell herself—impeccable clothes, perfect makeup, measured words. Everything about her was a careful presentation.
“Mark told me you have your savings very well tucked away. That’s very good. Very good. But look, I work in banking, you know,” she lied smoothly, “and I know a lot of options that could help you multiply that money. Safe options for people your age.”
Clare didn’t work in any bank. She worked part-time at a clothing boutique, but I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and waited for her to continue.
“The thing is, with inflation, with everything going up, money that’s just sitting there loses value,” she went on. “But if you invest it well, you could live much better. You could even help us out if you ever needed to.”
There it was again. The same song, different voice.
“I appreciate the concern, Clare, but I’m fine just as I am.”
“But Eleanor, think about it. You’re sixty-four years old now. You have to think about your future, your security,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “We could take care of everything. You would just have to sign a few papers and that’s it. No complications.”
Sign a few papers. There was the whole trap served up on a silver platter.
“No, thank you. I prefer to keep everything as it is.”
I saw her smile tighten just slightly. The muscles around her mouth tensed for a fraction of a second before relaxing again.
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