I waved back.

“What do I tell Joshua?”

“Tell him you need a few more days.”

“He’ll ask why.”

“Then be boring.”

That almost made me laugh.

“Boring?”

“People reveal a lot when they think nothing has changed.”

The Account With $684,219 in It

Joshua called before Maxine’s second game.

“Why did you cancel Monday?”

I walked away from the other parents.

“I didn’t cancel anything.”

“My attorney says you haven’t confirmed the signing.”

“I want another couple days.”

Silence.

“For what?”

“To read everything.”

“You’ve had weeks.”

“Then two more days shouldn’t matter.”

He lowered his voice.

“Gretchen, we’re trying to keep this civil.”

“I’m reading a contract before I sign it.”

Another silence.

Then his tone softened.

“Is this about money?”

I looked through the gym doors at Maxine laughing with two teammates.

“Should it be?”

He didn’t answer that.

“Call me tonight.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t.

On Monday morning, I met Abigail at her office in downtown Minneapolis.

She had three folders waiting.

One contained the divorce agreement.

One contained tax documents.

The third contained records obtained after she helped me request information from financial institutions where my name had appeared on previous joint paperwork.

She opened the first statement.

Balance: $684,219.

Then the second.

$537,860.

I added them in my head.

More than $1.2 million.

“These are marital assets?”

“Based on what we have, they appear to have been funded during the marriage.”

I stared at the balances.

Joshua had offered me what he called a fair division.

The house would be sold eventually. Retirement accounts divided. Savings split. We would share Maxine’s expenses.

He had even told me he didn’t want money to make us enemies.

Abigail slid another page toward me.

“There’s something else.”

Several withdrawals had been made over the previous eighteen months.

Most went to an entity called Parker Strategic Consulting.

“Parker?”

“Yes.”

I already knew the answer before asking.

“Cheyenne Parker?”

Abigail folded her hands.

“We don’t know yet.”

I searched the company name on my phone.

The registered address led to a small office suite in Edina.

The contact name was Cheyenne Parker.

I set my phone down.

Abigail didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

I Went Home and Pretended I Knew Nothing

That evening, Joshua came by to pick up Maxine for dinner.

He stood in our entryway wearing the navy coat I’d bought him for Christmas two years earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He looked past me toward the kitchen.

The divorce agreement was sitting on the island.

I had put it there on purpose.

His shoulders relaxed.

“You finish?”

“Almost.”

He stepped inside.

“Gretchen, I don’t want this turning ugly.”

“Neither do I.”

“We’ve done a good job so far.”

“I think so.”

Maxine came downstairs carrying her backpack.

“Dad, can we stop for fries?”

Joshua smiled at her.

“Absolutely.”

She kissed my cheek.

Joshua opened the door.

Then he turned back.

“Tomorrow?”

I looked at the agreement.

“Probably.”

He nodded.

After they left, I locked the door.

Then I opened my laptop.

Abigail had sent another document.

Payments to Parker Strategic Consulting had covered more than consulting.

Rent on an apartment in St. Louis Park.

Airfare.

A resort charge in Scottsdale.

Restaurant bills.

Furniture.

The apartment lease listed Joshua as an authorized occupant.

I read that line twice.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Joshua.

Please think about what’s best for Maxine.

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I opened the folder containing Maxine’s education account.

Joshua and I had started it when she was a baby. Birthday checks went into it. Part of my overtime pay went into it. My parents contributed every Christmas.

The balance should have been close to $340,000.

The latest statement showed $41,806.

I stopped scrolling.

I checked the date.

Then the account number.

Then I downloaded the transaction history.

There were withdrawals.

One after another.

Some small.

Some over $50,000.

Nearly $300,000 was gone.

Several transfers led to the same accounts Abigail had already identified.

Parker Strategic Consulting.

I sat at the kitchen island until the screen dimmed.

Beside my laptop was the divorce agreement.

Beside that was the old tax statement with Maxine’s orange juice stain in the corner.

Fourteen years earlier, I had trusted Joshua with our future.

Thirteen years earlier, we had started saving for our daughter’s.

I picked up my phone and called Abigail.

She answered on the third ring.

“Gretchen?”

“I found where some of the money came from.”

“Where?”

I looked at Maxine’s name printed across the education account.

“Our daughter’s college fund.”

Abigail went quiet.

“How much?”

“Almost three hundred thousand.”

Another pause.

Then she spoke very carefully.

“Do not sign anything.”

I closed the divorce agreement.

“I’m not going to.”

For the first time since Joshua asked me for a divorce, I wasn’t trying to save what was left of our marriage.

I was protecting what he had already started taking from our daughter.

The Question Joshua Couldn’t Answer

Abigail told me not to call Joshua, so I didn’t.

For three days, I went to work, packed Maxine’s lunches, washed scrubs, and answered Joshua’s messages as if all I needed was more time with the paperwork.

Meanwhile, Abigail requested complete records for the accounts connected to my name and prepared for our scheduled mediation.

Joshua kept pushing.

“We can finish this without wasting money on lawyers.”

“I already have a lawyer.”

He stared at me across the kitchen.

“Since when?”

“Since I decided I shouldn’t sign something I don’t fully understand.”

His jaw tightened.

“What don’t you understand?”

I folded a dish towel and put it away.

“We’ll discuss it at mediation.”

He watched me for several seconds, then picked up his keys.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

I didn’t answer.

The morning of mediation, I carried one folder into a conference room in downtown Minneapolis. Joshua arrived with his attorney, Mark Ellison, and sat across from me.

He looked tired but confident.

Abigail began with the two investment accounts.

She placed copies of the statements on the table.

“These accounts contain approximately $1.2 million and do not appear anywhere in Mr. Keller’s marital disclosure.”