Thomas’s voice came through the speaker so clearly that, for one strange second, I could see the old dining room again.
The long walnut table.
Brenda’s wineglass.
My mother-in-law gathering pistachio shells into a neat pile.
Thomas sitting at the far end, listening while his sister discussed my money as though I were an account they managed together.
“She won’t leave,” he said on the recording.
“Emma always fixes everything.”
Then Brenda laughed.
“Exactly.
Let her keep paying.
When her money runs out, she’ll leave on her own.”
The recording continued for another few seconds.
Silverware clinked.
Someone opened the refrigerator.
Then my own voice floated in from another room.
“Does anyone want coffee?”
I had been serving them while they planned around me.
Amanda stopped the audio.
The silence in her office felt heavier than the words.
I stared at the black speaker on her desk.
