So Penny had managed to meet a modern-day Cary Grant on her honeymoon. She really did have all the luck.
“Anyway. One night we started teasing them that our goal is to be them when we grow up. And they started telling us more about themselves, how they’ve just become grandparents … and when we said we didn’t plan to have kids, they were crestfallen. Like, it was almost weird. But then Sheri—that was the woman’s name—she said it seems like the people who would be the most amazing parents are the people who decide not to have kids. And how sad that is, what a waste.”
Stay out of it, Sheri, Izzy thought. Go dance with Cary.
“We both woke up the next day still thinking about it, and we decided they were right. I mean, we have so much to offer. We’d be fun parents, right?”
“Fun,” Izzy repeated, numb.
“I guess it was meant to be. We pulled the goalie last month and scored on our first try!”
“Wow.” This was where Izzy was meant to switch over to something genuine. She’d asked her questions. She’d gotten the answers. On to the happy part.
And yet.
This was why Penny had been trying to reach her. Izzy realized too late that while she’d been smugly dodging her sister’s calls, a part of her had been feeling relieved that Penny had finally noticed her absence. She hadn’t, though. This was the sisterly equivalent of those obligatory calls she’d gotten for years after college, from friend after friend whom she hadn’t heard from in months phoning under the guise of catching up only to announce her engagement. Izzy had minded those calls more than she should have. “What do you want them to do, not tell you?” Josh had asked one day.
Of course she hadn’t wanted that. She just wanted to be the one with the happy reason for making the call.
“Well! Congratulations. Yeah, that was … it was fast, for sure. Good job.”
“Good job—ha! That’s what I told Josh! Listen, Mom and Dad are beside themselves. I know it’s overkill, but they’re hosting a thing at their condo’s clubhouse next Tuesday. Nothing official, no gifts. Just cocktails—mocktails for me, of course—hot hors d’oeuvres, desserts—they’re inviting the whole extended family, and friends. Say you’ll be there?”
Izzy stalled. “Tuesday, you said?”
“Yeah, I know it’s a weird day. The clubhouse was booked weekends. They just didn’t want to wait to get everyone together, I think. Seems like they’re sort of empty nesting all over again now that they’re alone in their condo, with all new neighbors, and you’ve left town, and … well, dad had this health scare.”
“Health scare?”
“They didn’t want to worry you. Thought you were already under enough stress, with the house and the move. You’re lucky you didn’t know. Josh said I was impossible to live with that whole week we were waiting for the test results! He was so sweet, though, taking care of me as if I were the one being tested and—” She cut herself off abruptly. “Anyway, don’t worry. It was a false alarm. He’s fine. But I think it made them a little trigger-happy with their party hats.”
Izzy wondered how she’d come to this point where she felt so utterly outside of her own family. Surely they hadn’t pushed her out. At least not intentionally. Maybe an accidental nudge. And then … well, then she’d left of her own volition. That much she had to take responsibility for. Once her parents became grandparents, she’d be even more … extraneous? Forgotten?
No. She’d be an aunt.
“Of course I’ll be there,” she said weakly.
Penny let out a squeal. “Great! And seriously, we really want to get out there and see what the house looks like now that you’ve got it all set up. Not that it wasn’t cute to begin with, but you know what I mean.”
“Sure.”
“I have an ultrasound Saturday, and then Josh’s parents are having us over, but—
“We’ll pick a day soon.”
“Right. See you Tuesday, okay? So glad I finally got hold of you! It was like it wasn’t going to feel real until you knew. And now it does!”
Izzy knew how she felt.
Please, tell me that didn’t just happen, she thought, staring at the silent phone in her hand. Please, God, I can’t—
There was a rap on the door, and Sonny burst through. “Good! You’re off!” he said, diving for the tiny television on her desk and switching on the local twelve o’clock news. “This proves my point.”
Izzy wiped away the tears that had escaped his notice as the anchor’s voice filled the room. “Much has been made about this million dollars of life insurance money that’s unaccounted for, so I’m here with Todd Davis, a wealth manager with Bank of Ohio. I know this situation has raised a lot of questions among our viewers. Mr. Davis, thanks for agreeing to answer a few.”
“My pleasure.”
Izzy might have screamed at Sonny to get out of her office, but it was easier to just sit there, numb to his rudeness, numb to Penny’s excitement, numb to the newscast.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the anchor continued. “Dr. Kirkland claims his wife vanished with the life insurance payout from her first husband, in part because she was worried she’d lose half of it in the divorce. Is it really possible the courts would have awarded Dr. Kirkland a share?”
“It’s not likely. To some extent it would depend on whether she’d commingled the assets—put the money into joint accounts. In that case it obviously becomes hard to determine what portion of that money has and hasn’t already been spent by the parties with access to those accounts, even if she were to then withdraw the same amount later.”
Sonny caught sight of Day walking past and gestured wildly. “Day! This is what you were saying!” She stopped in the doorway.
“I see. But it’s been reported that we’re talking about a separate account that she allegedly was setting aside for the children.”
The wealth manager frowned. “I saw that, though I’m not clear on where these details are coming from—”
“So what Dr. Kirkland is stating as his wife’s motive for taking the money and disappearing is simply not plausible. Because those funds would not have been split in the divorce settlement.”
“I wouldn’t call it implausible.”
“Can you explain?”
“I have clients all the time who make odd decisions about their money simply because they don’t understand the law.” He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the fact that someone was interested in the topic for a change. “It’s like those people who lived through the Depression and now store cash under their mattresses because somehow they feel that’s safer than a bank. Obviously, in today’s world with more fiscal safeguards in place, the bigger danger to your savings is that your house could catch fire, or you could be robbed, or you could pass away unexpectedly without having told your family where to find it. But that doesn’t mean those people don’t have, in their minds, a valid motive for stashing their money that way.”
“So in this case…” Izzy couldn’t help thinking the reporter seemed a little slow on the uptake.
“If he threatened her that he was going to make a play for the funds in court—regardless of whether that play would have been successful—she might have been scared enough to take the money and run.”
“Because it does seem unfair that your second husband would be able to take the life insurance money your first husband left you.”
“It does, and that’s why the law is the way it is. But…”
“Yes?”
“If that second husband raised the first husband’s kids largely with his own money, while all that life insurance money that was intended for them sat untouched in a bank, he might argue that he was entitled to something of a refund.” He chuckled as if this were the most fun he’d had in months.
“The plot thickens. Mr. Davis, thanks so much for your time.”
“If any of your viewers have concerns with their own finances they’d like addressed—”