Gary, our son who works as a local accountant, was standing by the interior paint display.
He was tapping a blue plastic pen against his knuckles.
“Mom,” Gary said, turning around as my metal shopping cart squeaked on the linoleum.
“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Your father went to Grand Rapids,” I said, leaning against the cold metal handle of my cart.
“He said his old firm called him in for a consulting job.”
Gary stopped tapping his pen and frowned, his face tightening.
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mom,” he said, speaking in that fast, professional tone he used at his office.
“The partners liquidated that firm three years ago.”
“There is no corporate entity left to hire him.”
I polished my gold wedding ring with my thumb, feeling the worn metal warm against my skin.
“He was very specific about the blueprints, Gary.”
“Did he give you a contract or an engagement letter?” Gary asked, stepping closer.
“Because retired engineers don’t just get random calls for off-book consultations.”
“He said it was an old contact,” I said.
“An old contact from where?” Gary asked. “Most of his colleagues have moved down to Florida or passed on.”
“I will call the old regional manager this afternoon,” Gary said, pulling his phone from his coat pocket.
“We need to verify his billing status if he is doing independent contract work at seventy-one.”
“Don’t do that yet,” I said, placing my hand over his wrist.
“Let me talk to him when he gets home.”
“Something is off,” Gary said, his eyes scanning the hardware aisles.
“He missed our weekly phone call on Tuesday, and he never misses that.”
I left the store without the furnace filters and drove straight back to our ranch-style house.
The kitchen was completely silent when I walked in, save for the low hum of the refrigerator.
I sat down at the dark polished oak table and pulled my electronic tablet from the drawer.
My fingers felt cold as I tapped the icon for First State Bank.
We had kept our joint savings in the same local branch since we married in nineteen-seventy-nine.
I typed in our shared password and waited for the security screen to load.
The joint checking balance was normal, showing three hundred and twelve dollars.
I tapped the tab for our primary savings account, expecting to see our life savings.
