Page 53 of Shelter for Shay
The kitchen smelled faintly of chamomile and lemon balm—Margaret’s old tea blend. Moose sat at the table, surrounded by a mess of papers. Old bank statements. Mortgage refinance documents. A folder marked Medical—urgent. He’d never seen so many financial documents in one place.
His adult life had been simple. He owned very little. A small farm. A truck. And the clothes on his back. His bills weren’t complicated. His mortgage wasn’t outrageous. He owned his truck outright. His chickens were probably the biggest expense he had, and that wasn’t too terrible.
The only time he bought new clothes was when Danni told him he had to, and then she’d march him down to the mall and pick them out for him. He wondered how that would play out now that he had a girlfriend. In the past, the few women he dated never understood that Danni was like a sister. For some strange reason, a few women thought he, Danni, and Thor were a throuple. That had always made him chuckle.
He tapped the pencil on the stack of papers and rubbed his temple with his free hand. Shay had gone to rummage throughmore boxes, but even now, he could feel her unease pulsing from somewhere in the house.
The numbers didn’t lie.
Margaret had refinanced the house twice—once six years ago, and again just six months ago when her diagnosis worsened. But that first refinance set off the quiet alarm in his gut.
The timing didn’t make sense. Margaret was still working at the time. Shay had graduated from college. Tuition had been paid. There hadn’t been any hospitalizations, no surgeries, no crisis—at least not one that Shay knew of.
Shay returned with an armful of folders and envelopes, dropping them on the table with a quiet sigh. She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, one of his sweatshirts drowning her small frame.
“This is everything I could find,” she said softly. “Mom wasn’t the most organized when it came to this. But the good news is, she kept everything. And I mean everything. There were a few boxes in the attic I haven’t gone through yet, so if you think there are still more financials missing, I can go back up.”
“Let’s see what’s in here first.” He reached for the top folder, carefully pulling out a stack of printed statements.
“Shay…” He cautiously glanced at her. “Did you know your mom was going to refinance the house six months ago?”
“I tried to talk her out of it,” Shay said. “I told her that we’d figure it all out. That insurance would pay for whatever, and the rest, we’d simply deal as we went along. But she figured I could use what little equity she had in the house to handle things when she was gone and hopefully sell the place for more than the mortgage.”
“And you didn’t go to the bank with her when she did it?”
“You sound incredibly judgmental right now.” Shay folded her arms and glared.
“It’s just that there was so little equity left because of the refinance six years ago.” He tapped the corner of the page. “She pulled a sizable amount out. Forty-five thousand. It was right before she stopped working.”
Shay narrowed her stare. “I had no idea about that until I started going through all this.”
“Any idea why she’d do that?”
“You’re the one who’s been doing the deep dive with all this while I’ve been getting the third degree by the DA and guy whom I once licked ice cream off his tongue.”
Moose growled. Low. Dark. “I’m a jealous man.”
She patted his thigh. “We went on one date. To the ice cream parlor. That kiss, he thought was weird, so that was the end of our dating.” She cocked her head. “I’ve never heard about any of the women you’ve taken out.”
“I’m a loner, and my love life before you was honestly pathetic. You can ask my chickens about it.”
“I think I’d rather ask Thor.” She smiled.
Moose chuckled, waving his hand over the stacks of paper. “Did your mom purchase anything like a new car? Or did she go on a trip of a lifetime? Was there anything that could explain why she’d want that cash and where it went?”
“No. But that was right around the time she’d cut her hours at the high school. She said she was taking time for herself. That she wanted to travel more, but travel for her was taking a trip to Vermont.” Her breath hitched. “We went to Montreal. I just… thought it was something she’d saved for and it honestly wasn’t that expensive. However, she insisted on paying for both of us. She’d joked I was ridiculously poor, which is kind of true. I am.”
He set the paper down and offered her a gentle look. “Maybe she set it aside for you. I’ve been searching for a financial advisor or an accountant. I would’ve assumed she used Todd, but she signed them herself.”
She stared down at the table. “That always infuriated me, especially when Todd became an accountant. And he’s mad wicked good with money. What little I do have, I let him take care of. I’d never make it from one country to the next without his advice.”
“That’s good to know. Perhaps I’ll have him take a look at my portfolio.”
“Wow, that’s a big word.”
“Hey, I need to leave something to my chickens.” He batted her nose, then opened a folder Margaret had labeled “investments.” It looked standard at first—modest mutual funds, a dwindling Roth IRA—but tucked in the back was a quarterly statement from an account under the name W.E.H. Holdings, LLC.
He frowned. “You ever heard of this?”
