“No, they were not. I’d suggest you speak to your mother about that, as I can only talk to you about this specific account.”
“All right. My mother opened the account?”
“Eian Kelly opened the account, in your name, with your mother as guardian. He made arrangements, at that time, to have a monthly deposit wired from the Bank of Ireland. For your future, your education, your financial security.”
Now she gripped her hands together as they trembled, too. “You’re sure.”
“I am.” He handed her the coffee, then took his own and sat, not behind the beautiful desk with its computer but in the chair beside hers. “I arranged it for him. He came into the office, opened the account. I’ve been managing it since that time.”
“Has he—has he been in touch with you?”
“Not since that time, no. The deposits come. Your mother has overseen the account. She’s been scrupulous, as I told you. If you’ve looked over the reports, you’ll see she’s never taken out a penny. We have quarterly meetings, more if there’s something we need to discuss. I had no reason to think you were unaware.”
“Do you have many clients—Am I a client?”
He smiled at her. “Yes.”
“Do you have many clients who take no interest at all in an account worth almost four million dollars? I know Allied’s a prestigious firm, and that’s probably a small account, but it’s still a great deal of money.”
He took a moment, and she knew he chose his words with great care. “There are situations where a parent or guardian, a trustee, may be better suited to make the financial decisions.”
“I’m an adult. She’s not my guardian.” She felt it, sensed it, knew it. “She told you I was irresponsible, unable to handle money.”
“Ms. Kelly—Breen—I don’t want to get personal. I can tell you, without hesitation, your mother has always had your well-being in mind. With your issues . . .”
“What are my issues?” The anger rose up again, so much better than the nerves. “Irresponsible. Not too bright either, am I? Maybe even just a little slow on the scale.”
He actually flushed a little. “She certainly never said anything like that directly.”
“Just implied. Well, let’s get to know each other, Mr. Ellsworth. I have a master’s degree in education—hard earned just this past winter, and for which I owe a mountain of student debt.”
She saw the stunned look, nodded.
“I teach language arts at Grady Middle School, and have since I graduated from college—already with considerable hills of debt despite working two part-time jobs. I’m happy to give you the name of my principal, names of various professors.”
“That won’t be necessary. I was under the impression you didn’t work, or hadn’t kept a job.”
“I’ve worked since I was sixteen—summers, weekends. I still work through the summer, to pay off that debt, and I private tutor two evenings a week for the same reason.”
Tears began to swirl in her eyes, but they were hot, hot with anger. “I shop sales or thrift stores, have a roommate. I balance my bank account—such as it is—to the penny every month. I—”
“Here now. Here.” He closed a hand over hers. “I’m very sorry there’s been this—”
“Don’t call it a misunderstanding, not when it was deliberate. My father wanted this money for me. Instead I waited tables and took out loans to pay for college when the money he sent for me would’ve—it would’ve changed my life. Knowing he sent anything would’ve changed my life.”
She set the coffee aside, pulled in a breath to try to compose herself. “I’m sorry. This is my mother’s doing, not yours. Why wouldn’t you believe her? You said I was your client.”
“You are, and we’re going to fix this. When is Jennifer due back?”
“Next week, but I need to know something now. Is this my money?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m authorized to withdraw funds, transfer funds.”
“Yes, but I think it would be best to wait until your mother’s back, for the three of us to sit down and talk.”
“I’m not interested in that. I want to transfer funds, establish another account—in my name only. Can I do that?”
“Yes. I can set up an account for you. How much do you want to transfer?”
“All of it.”
“Breen—”
“All of it,” she repeated. “Or when I meet with you and my mother, I’ll have a lawyer, and I’ll sue her for, I don’t know, embezzlement.”
“She hasn’t touched the money.”
“I’m sure a lawyer will know what term to use. I want my money so the next time I sit down to pay bills I can pay off my student debt and take a full breath again. This money came from my father into your hands. He trusted you to do the right thing by me. I’m asking you to do the right thing.”
“You’re of age. You can sign a document to have your mother’s name removed from the account. I’ll need to see your identification, you’ll need to fill out some forms. I’ll need to call in one of our notaries and a witness.”
He laid a hand over hers again. “Breen, I believe you. But would you mind giving me the name and number of the principal at your school? Just for my own peace of mind.”
“Not at all.”
CHAPTER TWO
By the time Breen walked into Sally’s, the place was in full swing. Colored lights streamed over the crowded bar, the packed tables. The spotlight beamed on Cher—or Sally’s version thereof—belting out “If I Could Turn Back Time.”
Truer words, Breen thought.
She made her way through the enthusiastic crowd, even managed to smile when someone waved or called her name.
Marco caught her eye, bless him, sent her a quick salute as he mixed drinks.
He wore a spangled silver shirt—Sally’s was a spangly place—snug black pants, and a silver hoop in one ear. Recently he’d started sporting a little goatee, and she thought it suited him, like the long braids he tied back. His cocoa skin gleamed.
Sally’s was hot, in more ways than one.
“Geo, give our girl a seat.”
“No, no, that’s okay.”
But Geo, small, thin, and resplendent in red, hopped right off the stool.
“You sit, sweetie pie. I gotta make the rounds anyway.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Our baby looks tired.”
“I guess I am.”
She took the stool while Marco filled an order. Then poured her a glass of white wine.
“You’re late—and you didn’t even change. That’s some sad outfit, girl.” Then his eyebrows shot up when she downed half the glass in one go.
“Okay, that looks like the end of a rough day.”
“Rough, strange, scary, exhilarating.”
And she burst into tears.
“Geo! I’m taking my break.”
He rushed through the pass-through, grabbed Breen’s arm, and pulled her with him into the backstage area.