Chapter 5 - THE HOSTESS FUND
The family comparison started that evening.
I did not initiate it.
Aunt Melissa did.
By nine o’clock, a group text existed that did not include Dorothy.
People began checking transfers.
Not because anyone expected a criminal conspiracy.
Because everybody wanted to know whether they had misunderstood.
The pattern went back at least four years.
Dorothy had occasionally asked guests to contribute to something she called the hostess fund.
Food.
Flowers.
Rental items.
Holiday costs.
The amounts varied.
Twenty dollars.
Fifty.
Sometimes more.
Nothing enormous individually.
Together, it was substantial.
Meanwhile, I had paid thousands over those same years to cover shortages Dorothy claimed she could not afford.
Then came the second surprise.
Kevin had also been giving her money.
I discovered that two nights later.
We were sitting at our kitchen table after Lily—our dog, not a child—finally stopped barking at every passing car.
Kevin looked exhausted.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m running low on space for those.”
He deserved that.
“I’ve been sending Mom money for family events.”
“How much?”
“Usually a few hundred.”
“Each event?”
“Not always.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said she was embarrassed about needing help.”
I stared at him.
“She told me the same thing.”
Kevin went still.
“When?”
“Every year.”
We opened our joint account.
Found transfers.
Christmas.
Summer luncheon.
Birthday dinners.
Then we compared them with amounts Dorothy told me she had available.
Numbers did not match.
Not even close.
“Where did it go?” Kevin whispered.
We eventually got the answer from Dorothy.
Some paid for legitimate event expenses.
Some went toward her credit-card bills after she purchased decorative items and clothing she considered part of hosting.
Some covered club dues.
A landscaping bill.
A new patio set she said was “for family gatherings.”
Dorothy did not believe she was stealing.
That became very clear.
In her mind, the hostess fund belonged to the hostess.
If she spent three hundred dollars keeping her yard attractive for relatives, that counted.
If I bought the actual food, that also counted because I was family and could afford it.
She had created a private accounting system where every dollar flowing toward her was contribution and every dollar flowing from me was obligation.
The system worked beautifully.
May you like
For Dorothy.
Until I served mashed potatoes.
