I picked up the pen. Tyler leaned forward, practically salivating. Melissa finally looked up, her eyes wet but her mouth shut, because Tyler had promised her a cut of the lake house once the deed transferred. I clicked the pen twice. Then I set it down. “Before I sign, Tyler, tell the table how much you owe the IRS.” His face went the color of the tablecloth. “That’s none of your—” “One hundred and forty-two thousand,” I said calmly. “Plus penalties. I know because your accountant is my former student, and he called me last month, worried you were about to do something stupid to your grandmother.” Melissa’s wine glass hit the table. Tyler started stammering about confidentiality. I kept going. “The guardianship petition you filed on Tuesday? Judge Alvarez sent it to me for review as a courtesy. She’s also my former student. Your doctor’s affidavit was signed by a physician whose license was suspended in March. That’s fraud, sweetheart. Federal, if we’re counting the wire transfer you tried to route through my dormant checking account last week.” The restaurant had gone silent. Tyler reached for the papers. I placed my palm flat on top of them. “I already signed something this morning, actually. A trust. Everything Frank and I built goes to the scholarship fund at BC, plus a small monthly stipend for Melissa, contingent on her attending Al-Anon, because we both know why she’s been quiet tonight.” Melissa began to cry, but differently now, the way people cry when someone finally sees them. Tyler stood up so fast his chair tipped. “You manipulative old—” “Careful,” I said. “The gentleman two tables over is Detective Ramos. Also a former student. I invited him to dessert.” Detective Ramos raised his coffee cup in a small salute. Tyler ran. He didn’t get far. I ordered the crème brûlée and asked the waitress to bring a second spoon for my daughter. Frank always said the sweetest revenge is the kind you eat slowly, with someone you love, in a dress that still fits.
