At least, I believe she did.
She visited one Christmas and cornered me in the garage while Evelyn was inside wrapping gifts.
“My aunt loves you.”
I continued arranging tools.
“She knows that.”
Caroline stepped closer.
“Do you?”
I looked at her.
“Do I what?”
“Love her.”
My jaw tightened.
“That’s between Evelyn and me.”
Caroline gave a humorless laugh.
“No. What’s between you and Evelyn is seventy thousand dollars of consumer debt, a free house, and a woman old enough to be your grandmother.”
I slammed the toolbox closed.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Caroline’s eyes hardened.
“I know exactly what men like you look like when they think inheritance is a retirement plan.”
I wanted to hit back with something cruel.
Instead, Evelyn called from the kitchen, asking whether we wanted coffee.
Caroline held my gaze.
“If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
For months afterward, I told myself Caroline was bitter.
The problem was that every accusation had landed because some part of me knew she was right.
The strange thing was that Evelyn never confronted me.
Not once.
If she suspected my motives, she gave no sign.
