Chapter 4 - Veronica Did Not Begin as the Woman at the Cemetery
I liked Veronica the first time I met her.
That fact embarrassed me later because resentment likes to rewrite beginnings.
She was thirty-two.
Worked in luxury residential real estate in San Francisco.
Smart.
Polished.
Funny when she relaxed.
Leonard brought her to my house for dinner.
She arrived carrying:
wine,
flowers,
and a replacement serving spoon because Leonard had apparently told her I once complained mine was too small.
I laughed.
“Already gathering intelligence?”
Veronica smiled.
“I work in real estate. We call it due diligence.”
Good answer.
She made Leonard lighter.
Peter had been dead fourteen months.
My son had spent most of that time:
working,
avoiding my calls,
pretending grief was scheduling pressure.
With Veronica, he traveled.
Went to concerts.
Bought a ridiculous motorcycle he sold six months later because he was terrified of:
dying.
I should have been grateful.
Instead, I became uneasy.
Not immediately.
Gradually.
Veronica liked:
beautiful things.
Leonard could afford:
beautiful things.
Fine.
Then he bought a larger house in Tiburon.
Then a boat share.
Then expensive furniture.
I started asking:
“How much?”
He said:
“Enough.”
I asked about:
company cash flow.
He answered:
“Fine.”
I knew more than an ordinary mother because Peter’s estate left me:
a minority economic interest
in a family investment trust that had previously made a small working-capital loan to Leonard’s company.
I was also initial trustee of:
that trust.
Important distinction.
I did not own:
Leonard’s business.
I did have certain responsibilities over:
family assets,
remaining note payments,
investment distributions.
I began mixing:
trustee concern
with:
maternal concern.
That became dangerous.
The first real conflict happened when Leonard wanted a distribution from the family trust to help purchase the Tiburon house.
Roughly:
$420,000.
The trust allowed discretionary distributions for:
housing,
health,
education,
general welfare.
I could approve it.
I asked:
“Why not finance more?”
He stared.
“Because the rate is terrible.”
“Then buy a smaller house.”
“Mom.”
“Veronica has a condo.”
“We’re selling it.”
“Then use that.”
His face hardened.
“This is my trust.”
“Not until distributed.”
Legal answer.
Terrible mother answer.
He said:
“Dad intended this for me.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like I’m asking permission to spend your money.”
I approved:
half.
Not all.
That was the beginning.
Veronica saw:
control.
Leonard saw:
control.
I saw:
prudence.
May you like
All three views contained something true.
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