Grandma Hazel had raised my father and aunt alone after her divorce. She worked long shifts, skipped comforts, and saved every dollar she could. Yet both of her children moved away and barely came back.
My father built his life in Greenville. My Aunt Paula married a wealthy real estate developer and moved to Georgia. They left Grandma behind with her porch, her marigolds, and her memories.
When I was eighteen, my parents announced a grand family trip to Europe: Paris, Rome, London. They said everyone was going, including Grandma. I imagined her under the Eiffel Tower, smiling the way she did on her porch.
Then I overheard my mother say Grandma could help pay because she had savings.
Soon after, my father and aunt suddenly began calling Grandma more often. They visited, acted loving, and convinced her this trip would bring the family together again.
Grandma hesitated. She said she was old and worried about traveling so far.
Then she looked at me and said, “If Calvin wants me to go, then I’ll go.”
I hugged her and promised I would take care of her.
I didn’t know I was helping lead her into a betrayal.
The next day, I heard my mother say Grandma had transferred the money.
All of it.
More than thirty thousand dollars.
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