“Also, we should probably discuss your financial arrangements. I’m worried about how you’re managing the costs of your new living situation on your fixed income. Please call me when you get this. Love, David.” I set the letter down next to my morning newspaper, the Seattle Times, delivered to my door every day along with the Wall Street Journal and the local community newsletter. David’s concern about my finances was touching in a way. He had no idea that my fixed income had increased by roughly 10 times since I’d last seen him.
My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Malcolm’s name appeared on the caller ID, and I answered with a smile. “Good morning, Malcolm.” “Good morning, Adrien. How are you feeling today?” “Wonderful,” I said, and meant it. “I just finished reviewing the applications for our new school lunch program in Tacoma. I think we should fund all three schools that applied, even the one with the questionable financial management.” I laughed. “Especially that one. Sometimes the places that look the messiest on paper are where the need is greatest.”
“I learned that from a very wise little boy who taught me that hunger doesn’t wait for perfect circumstances.” Malcolm’s chuckle was warm. “I’ll never get used to you throwing my own words back at me. All right, all three schools it is. Anything else on your agenda today?” “I’m meeting with the architect this afternoon about the new community center and I have a conference call with the Portland Foundation office at 3. Oh, and I need to review the scholarship applications for next semester.”
It still amazed me sometimes how full my days had become. For years, my biggest decisions had been which bills to pay first and whether I could afford to replace my worn out shoes. Now, I was making decisions about programs that would feed thousands of children and send dozens to college. “You sound busy,” Malcolm said. “Good busy or overwhelming busy?” “The best kind of busy,” I assured him. “The kind where you go to bed tired but satisfied.” “I’m glad to hear it. Oh, before I forget, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
“I had an interesting conversation yesterday.” “Oh?” “Someone contacted my office asking questions about you, specifically about your employment with the foundation.” My stomach tightened slightly. “What kind of questions?” “Professional questions. Someone wanting to verify your position, your salary, your mental competency to handle your responsibilities.” I closed my eyes, already knowing the answer. “David.” “That would be my guess. My assistant handled it very professionally, confirmed that you’re an active full-time employee in excellent standing with no concerns about your performance or decision-making abilities.”
“How did David even know to call your office?” “Probably the same way he found out about your increased bank deposits. He’s been monitoring your finances, remember?” That was true. David had set up my online banking, which meant he probably still had access to my accounts. He would have seen the foundation salary deposits and wondered where they were coming from. “What happens now?” I asked. “Nothing happens. You’re employed by a legitimate charitable organization. You’re living independently and managing your own affairs. There’s nothing anyone can do to challenge that.”
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. For months, I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for my children to figure out what was really happening and try to intervene somehow. But Malcolm was right. What could they do? I was healthier and more financially secure than I’d been in years. “Actually,” Malcolm continued, “there is one more thing. I got a call from an elder law attorney yesterday, someone named Patricia Henley.” My breath caught. That was the attorney who’d refused to help David with his original plan to have me declared incompetent.
“She wanted me to know that the same client who’d consulted with her 6 months ago has been making calls to other lawyers in the area, asking more specific questions about challenging financial decisions made by elderly parents. More specific, how questions about whether large salary increases could be considered evidence of manipulation or coercion, whether new employment arrangements might be seen as someone taking advantage of an elderly person.” I felt anger beginning to burn in my chest. Even now, even after I’d found happiness and security and meaningful work, David couldn’t just let me be.
He couldn’t accept that I might have made decisions he didn’t approve of. “Malcolm,” I said slowly. “Is there anything they can actually do legally?” “Not a thing,” he said firmly. “You’re clearly competent. You’re living independently. You’re managing complex professional responsibilities. Any attorney worth their degree would laugh them out of their office. But they’re still trying. They’re fishing, looking for leverage they don’t have and won’t find.” I set my coffee cup down and looked out over the lake where a family of ducks was making their morning rounds.
The mother duck led the way, her ducklings following in a neat line behind her. Simple trust, simple love, simple care for the young. “You know what’s funny?” I said. “For months, I’ve been expecting to feel guilty about cutting them off financially, waiting for the maternal instinct to kick in and make me want to help them again. And… and it hasn’t happened. I feel free for the first time in my adult life. I’m not responsible for anyone else’s problems or mistakes or poor choices.”
“How does that feel?” “Terrifying,” I said honestly. “And wonderful.” Malcolm was quiet for a moment. “Adrienne, can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “Do you ever regret it, the way things ended with them?” I thought about that for a long time before answering. “I regret that it had to end. I regret that they never saw me as anything more than a source of money and support. I regret that I spent so many years making excuses for their selfishness.” I paused. “But I don’t regret choosing myself for once.”
“Good,” Malcolm said simply. “Because you deserve to be chosen. You deserve to be chosen 40 years ago, and you deserve it now.” After we hung up, I sat on my porch for a while longer, thinking about the journey that had brought me to this place. A heart attack had led to surgery, which had led to abandonment, which had led to the most unexpected reunion of my life. My phone buzzed with a text message. For a moment, I thought it might be one of my children finally reaching out to actually see how I was doing rather than to investigate my finances.
But the number was unfamiliar. “Mrs. Davis, this is Jennifer Chen, Malcolm’s daughter. I’m a sophomore at University of Washington, and I’m writing a paper about charitable organizations for my sociology class. Dad told me about the foundation and suggested I interview you about its impact on local communities. Would you be available to meet sometime this week? Thank you, Jenny.” I smiled, delighted by the idea of meeting Malcolm’s daughter and sharing the story of how a simple act of kindness had grown into something that was now feeding thousands of children and sending hundreds to college.
I typed back quickly, “I would love to meet with you, Jenny. How about lunch on Thursday? There’s a lovely cafe here in Sunset Gardens that I think you’d enjoy.” Her response came back almost immediately. “Perfect. I can’t wait to hear the stories dad says you have about helping kids who need it most.” As I put my phone away, I realized something that filled me with quiet joy. I was building new relationships now. Relationships based on mutual respect and shared values rather than obligation and guilt.