“Petey,” I said carefully, “did Rhiannon tell you why she’s coming back alone?”
He looked confused.
“Because she’s going to get our house ready.”
“Our house?”
“Yes! We’re buying a house in Mexico. Rhiannon said we’re going to live there forever.”
I looked at my mother.
“Mom, did you know about this?”
She frowned.
“Of course. Rhiannon explained everything. She said Peter would have a wonderful life. They might travel. Maybe buy a little place near the beach.”
“With what money?”
My mother looked uncomfortable.
“Callum, not today.”
“With what money, Mom?”
Rhiannon appeared behind us.
“Is there a problem?”
I held up the ticket.
“Why is your return flight ten days after Petey’s, and why is his missing?”
She laughed.
“Airline booking mistake.”
“Which airline?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“He’s my brother.”
“He’s my husband.”
She emphasized the last word as if it were a weapon.
Petey smiled.
“She’s my wife, Cal.”
I crouched down to his level.
“That’s right, buddy. But I want to make sure everything is safe. You know you can ask me anything, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
He leaned toward me and whispered.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“Rhiannon said I shouldn’t tell you about the bank.”
My stomach tightened.
“What bank?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“She said you get angry when people talk about my money.”
Rhiannon immediately stepped forward.
“Peter, sweetheart, go get your cake.”
He didn’t move.
“She said we’re going to the bank Monday. I have to sign something. She said it’s a surprise.”
“What are you signing?”
“I don’t know. She said it’s our honeymoon money.”
I stood up.
“Rhiannon, I need to speak with you privately.”
She folded her arms.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then I’ll speak with the attorney.”
Her expression changed.
It was subtle.
A slight tightening around her mouth.
But I saw it.
“You can’t threaten me,” she said.
“I’m not threatening you.”
I looked at my phone.
“I’m asking questions.”
My mother’s voice broke through.
“Callum, please. You’re embarrassing everybody.”
I turned to her.
“Mom, Dad spent years making sure Petey would never have to worry about money. Do you remember what he told us?”
She looked away.
“He wanted Peter to be comfortable.”
“No. He wanted Peter to be safe.”
Before she could answer, a man approached.
He was wearing a gray suit and holding a leather folder.
“This is becoming unnecessarily unpleasant,” he said.
Rhiannon smiled.
“That’s my brother, Dean.”
I recognized the name from the wedding announcement.
Dean was supposedly the minister who had performed the ceremony.
He extended his hand.
“Dean Walsh. Nice to finally meet you.”
I didn’t shake it.
“Are you a licensed minister?”
He smiled.
“I’m legally ordained.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His smile disappeared.
“Listen, counselor. This is a family celebration.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind answering a few questions.”
Dean looked at Rhiannon.
She gave him a small nod.
He walked away.
That told me more than anything he could have said.
I took Petey inside.
His bedroom looked different.
There were boxes stacked against the wall.
His baseball collection was missing.
The framed photograph of Dad had been removed from the dresser.
“Where are your things, buddy?”
“Rhiannon packed them.”
“Why?”
“She said we don’t need old stuff anymore.”
I opened the closet.
Half of his clothes were gone.
On the bed was a brown envelope.
It had Petey’s name written on it.
I opened it.
Inside were photocopies of several documents.
A power of attorney.
A bank authorization.
A change-of-address form.
And something titled:
REVOCABLE TRUST DISTRIBUTION REQUEST.
I read the first page twice.
Then a third time.
Someone had prepared documents attempting to give Rhiannon control over Petey’s financial affairs.
The signature page contained Petey’s name.
It looked like his handwriting.
But something was wrong.
The signature was too neat.
Too deliberate.
Petey usually wrote his name with a little upward curve at the end.
This signature didn’t have it.
I photographed every page.
Then I called our father’s estate attorney.
His name was Arthur Bennett.
He answered on the second ring.
“Callum? I thought you were in London.”
“I’m in Savannah. I need your help.”
“What happened?”
I looked at the papers.
“Someone is trying to take control of Petey’s trust.”
There was silence.
Then Arthur said something I would never forget.
“Callum, listen carefully. Do not let Peter sign anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because three weeks ago, someone contacted our office asking how to remove you as trustee.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Who?”
“A woman calling herself Rhiannon Walsh.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did you tell her anything?”
“I told her the trust was private and that I couldn’t discuss it without proper authorization.”
“Did she ask about the marriage?”
“No. But she asked a very specific question.”
“What question?”
Arthur paused.
“She wanted to know whether the trust would pay out if Peter died while married.”
I looked toward the doorway.
Petey was standing there.
He was holding the photograph of our father.
“Cal?”
I quickly put the phone against my chest.
“Yes, buddy?”
“Are you mad at me?”
That question broke my heart.
I knelt in front of him.
“No. Never.”
“Because I got married?”
I swallowed.
“No, Petey. I’m worried because I don’t know if everybody is being honest with you.”
He looked down at Dad’s photograph.
“Rhiannon says you’re jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“Because I found somebody who loves me.”
I couldn’t answer immediately.
Then I said:
“Petey, if somebody loves you, they shouldn’t be afraid of you asking questions.”
He thought about that.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
I hugged him.
And for the first time since arriving, I noticed something.
Petey wasn’t wearing his usual watch.
The one Dad had given him.
“Where’s your watch?”
“Rhiannon has it.”
“Why?”
“She said it was too expensive to lose.”
I looked at him.
“Did she take anything else?”
He hesitated.
“My bank card.”
“What?”
“She said married people share everything.”
I stood up.
That was enough.
I called Arthur again.
“Freeze every pending transaction. Contact the bank. And I want copies of every document connected to this marriage.”
Arthur didn’t hesitate.
“Already on it.”
Then he said:
“Callum, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The trust has a provision requiring an independent review if anyone attempts to obtain financial control through coercion, fraud, or misrepresentation.”
I looked at the papers.
“Can we use it?”
“If the evidence supports it.”
I glanced toward the backyard.
Rhiannon was standing beneath the white balloons.
She was smiling for photographs.
She looked like a woman who had just won the lottery.
But she hadn’t won anything.
Not yet.
And I had a feeling she knew it.
PART 3: THE WOMAN WHO HAD A PLAN
That evening, the guests began leaving.
The music stopped.
The folding chairs were stacked.
The white balloons moved gently in the evening breeze.
My mother sat at the kitchen table, staring at her birthday cake.
Petey was upstairs watching baseball highlights.
Rhiannon stood near the back door, speaking quietly on her phone.
I heard her say:
“Yes. Tomorrow morning. Everything is still happening.”
Then:
“No, he doesn’t know.”
She turned and saw me.
Her expression changed.
“Can I help you?”
“Who were you talking to?”
“My husband.”
“Your husband is upstairs watching baseball.”
She gave me a cold smile.
“You’re exhausting.”
“Then let’s make this simple. I want to see every document Petey signed.”
“You have no right.”
“I’m his co-guardian and trustee.”
“Not anymore.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She reached into her handbag and produced a folded document.
“Peter signed this. It gives me authority over his personal affairs.”
I took it.
It was a photocopy of a power of attorney.
There were two problems.
First, the document had not been approved through the process required under Petey’s guardianship order.
Second, it appeared to contain a signature dated two weeks before the wedding.
“Where did you get this?”
“He signed it willingly.”
“Who witnessed it?”
“My brother.”
“Dean?”
“Yes.”
“Your brother witnessed a document giving you control over my brother’s finances?”
“Exactly.”
I handed it back.
“That’s convenient.”
She leaned closer.
“Let me explain something to you, Callum. You live in England. You come here twice a year. You call Peter once a week. You don’t know what he needs every day.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“I make him happy. I take him places. I listen to him. I make him feel like a normal man.”
The last sentence made my hands tighten.
“Petey is a normal man.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
She moved closer.
“Peter is lonely. He wanted a wife. I gave him that.”
