Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
Sable did not contradict him, her eyes remaining fixed on my plate.
“We have to be practical, Cassandra,” Sable said, her red nails tracing the edge of her plate. “The monthly maintenance on this house is five thousand dollars. We can’t keep paying that out of our pocket.”
“I was not aware you were paying it,” I replied. “The estate account was supposed to handle the utility bills.”
“The estate account has been frozen since the first week of October,” Sable said, her voice rising slightly. “But of course, Frank Higgins didn’t bother to explain that to you.”
“Frank explained that the freeze was temporary,” I said.
“Temporary is a relative term when the banks are involved,” Sable said, tapping her glass with a silver fork.
She picked up her wine glass, leaving a faint greasy smudge on the crystal rim.
“Think about it tonight,” she said. “The guest room on the second floor is already made up.”
The grandfather clock in the hall struck half past six, its heavy brass pendulum swinging behind the glass door with a dull, rhythmic thud.
