“Why did you mention Dad?”

Mom’s expression changed immediately.

Lauren looked toward her.

“Not here,” Mom said.

“Why?”

“This is a family matter.”

I looked around the crowded parking lot.

“Interesting. I thought Evan was family this morning.”

Lauren grabbed Mom’s arm.

“We’re leaving.”

As they turned, Evan spoke.

“Grandma?”

Mom stopped.

His voice became very small.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Mom opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Lauren sighed.

“Nobody said you did anything.”

“Then why couldn’t I come?”

Lauren looked away.

For once, she had no answer.

That evening, after Evan went to bed, I downloaded twenty-two months of fuel-card statements.

The total was $12,846.

Nearly thirteen thousand dollars.

That money could have gone toward Evan’s education. A better apartment. A real vacation. Instead, I had been pouring it into Lauren’s gas tank.

Then I noticed something stranger.

Recent charges came from stations scattered around Columbus. Some occurred less than an hour apart, twenty miles away from one another.

I looked through older statements.

The pattern repeated.

So I called Lauren’s ex-husband, Scott.

We had remained civil after their divorce because of the children.

“Does Lauren still have that landscaping job?” I asked.

“What landscaping job?”

“The one where she delivers equipment between sites.”

Scott went quiet.

“Natalie, she hasn’t worked there in more than a year.”

My stomach dropped.

Then his voice changed.

“Is this about your gas card?”

“How do you know about the card?”

“Lauren told me you paid for her gas. She said you didn’t care because you made more money than she did.”

“I work at a grocery store, Scott.”

“I know.”

After another silence, he said, “You should probably ask who else has been using the card.”

“Who?”

“I can’t prove anything, but I’ve seen Derek carrying it.”

Derek was Lauren’s boyfriend.

He owned a landscaping business.

Three trucks.

A trailer.

And apparently access to my gas account.

The next morning, Mom came to my apartment carrying homemade muffins.

Food first.

Guilt second.

That had always been her method.

“Lauren cried all night,” she said.

“Did she apologize to Evan?”

Mom sighed. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”

“So am I.”

“She has three children.”

“And I have one.”

“Exactly. You don’t understand how expensive three children are.”

I turned toward her.

“I spent almost thirteen thousand dollars paying for Lauren’s gas.”

Mom looked genuinely surprised.

“That can’t be right.”

“I checked.”

“Well, I’m sure she needed it.”

“Her boyfriend has been using my card.”