Except work that needed to be done.
I did not go home.
I drove straight to Gerald Winthrop’s house.
Gerald had been my lawyer for twenty-six years. He answered the door in a golf sweater, took one look at my face, and said, “Helen, come in. What do you need?”
I sat at his kitchen table.
He poured coffee.
I told him everything in order.
Calmly.
When I finished, Gerald set down his pen and looked at me over the rim of his glasses.
“How much of this do you want to undo?”
“All of it, Gerald.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then let me explain what you own.”
He began with the house.
I owned it free and clear.
Then Ethan’s trust.
I was the sole trustee with full discretionary authority over disbursement.
Then Marcus and Vanessa’s line of credit at Bank of Colorado, approximately two hundred eighty thousand dollars drawn, which I had guaranteed.
Then Ethan’s tuition contract at Greyland Country Day, where I was the primary sponsor.
Then the Porsche lease I had co-signed for Marcus.
Then the Prescott Family Foundation, which Cordelia chaired and which depended on my annual one-hundred-thousand-dollar contribution.
Gerald paused.
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Please.”
He continued.
I was also the landlord of the commercial building in LoDo where Marcus’s marketing agency rented office space at a below-market rate I had personally negotiated.
I had forgotten that one.
“Gerald,” I said, “I want every single institution contacted Monday morning.”
He listened.
“I want the line of credit called in. I want the car lease terminated. I want Ethan’s tuition sponsorship transferred to a direct disbursement arrangement, with Marcus and Vanessa removed as authorized signatories. I want the foundation contribution withdrawn. I want a thirty-day notice served on Marcus’s agency for the LoDo space. And I want a formal notice delivered giving Marcus and Vanessa thirty days to vacate the Cherry Creek house.”
Gerald looked at me for a long time.
“Helen, you understand what you are doing?”
“I do.”
“What about Ethan?”
That was the hardest question.
I looked down at my hands.
They were still steady.