At my son’s wedding in Seattle, the bride looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Starting tomorrow, you’re no longer part of this family. I’m the boss now—not you.” I smiled, walked away like it didn’t hurt, and canceled the $80,000 I’d promised for their first home—right there at the reception, while the music was still playing.

Ruth had worked as a legal secretary for 30 years before she retired. She knew how to find information about people.

“What are we looking for?” she asked.

“Everything. Where Amanda worked before. If she has money problems, any public records. I need to know if there’s a pattern.”

“You think she’s done this before?” Ruth asked.

“I think she’s too comfortable being cruel,” I said. “Cruel people usually have practice.”

While Ruth started looking for information, I went to see my lawyer. His name is Thomas Park, and he’s handled my business papers for 20 years. He knows me very well.

When he saw my face, he knew something was wrong.

“Helen, what happened?” he asked.

I told him everything.

He listened without interrupting. When I finished, he leaned back in his chair.

“You canceled the payment?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “That was smart. Legally, that money was yours to give or not give. But I think you’re here because you’re worried about more than just that money.”