Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
He reached for another stack of Gordon’s old college textbooks, but his hand hovered over the worn green fabric.
“Nathan,” I said, my thumb rubbing the smooth, cool gold of my wedding band. “Did you know she signed your name to that home equity loan?”
He froze, his fingers resting on the dusty mahogany shelf, his back still turned to me as the grandfather clock in the hall ticked twice.
“No,” he said, his voice barely louder than the dry rustle of the tissue paper. “I had no idea about the signature, Mom, and I swear to you on Dad’s memory that I did not know she went that far.”
“But you knew about the other debts,” I said.
He finally turned to face me, his hands sliding deep into his trousers pockets, his shoulders hunched as if he could hide inside his own wool sweater.
“I knew about the credit cards,” he admitted, looking down at his worn leather loafers. “The bills started coming to my office instead of the house last spring, and every month the minimum payment was higher, but I was too afraid of what she would do if I brought it up.”
