Chapter 15: The Elders' Room

The fellowship hall smelled of burnt coffee and floor wax.

Twelve folding chairs had been set in a half circle at the far end, facing one empty chair in the middle.

That chair was for me.

I stood in the doorway in my navy dress, with Dot on my right and Keir on my left.

Brittany waited a step behind us, holding her cracked phone in both hands.

The pastor sat at the center of the half circle, a soft gray man with a notepad on his knee.

Bernadette sat beside him in a cream cardigan, her pearls on, her eyes already wet.

Stanton sat at the very end with his elbows on his knees.

He looked up when I came in, and then at the floor.

"Freya, dear," Bernadette said. "Thank you for coming. We're only here because we love you."

"I know why you're here," I said.

I did not sit in the empty chair.

I walked to the table at the side of the room where the coffee urn stood, and set down the shoebox.

"I brought paper," I said. "Since you asked everyone to decide about me, I'd like them to decide with the facts."

"This is not the place for a financial argument," the pastor said gently.

"It's the place she chose."

I took out the first page and held it up.

"My father died seven years ago. A freight company paid two million, three hundred and ten thousand dollars into an account in my name."

"She's confused," Bernadette said, to the elders, softly. "This is what I told you. She believes things."

"Every dollar is on these pages," I said. "The mortgage on Fairmont. The shop on Grand. Her car. A cruise."

I handed the pages down the line, and each elder took one.

Nobody argued. Papers rustled.

The old man from the third table, the one who had stood at the party, read his page with his lips moving.