The next day, I sat in a conference room at Henley and Associates on the twelfth floor of a glass building in downtown Portland.

Patricia Sullivan was a sharp woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a chain and a stack of files a foot high.

“Your father was quite a businessman, Mrs. Williams,” she said, spreading the documents across the table.

The building was a two-story brick office on Division Street with three commercial tenants. A dental practice. An insurance agency. And a growing software company that took up the whole second floor.

The escrow account held exactly $743,000.

“There’s something else,” Patricia said. “The software company is expanding fast. They want to buy the building. They’ve made an offer through their attorney.”

“How much?”

“One point eight million dollars.”

I set down the paper in my hand.

“There’s a condition,” Patricia said. “They need to close within sixty days. If you don’t sell, they’ll move to a new location and end their lease. They’re your largest tenant. Losing them would cut the building’s value considerably.”

“I need some time to think,” I said.

“Of course. Can I speak frankly, Mrs. Williams?”

“Please.”

“At your age, having your money in safe, simple investments is usually better than managing a commercial building. The sale would give you complete financial security for the rest of your life.”

She was right.

I drove home on Highway 26 with the court paperwork and a cashier’s check for $743,000 tucked inside my purse.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d made my decision about the sale.

But first, I wanted to see how David and Jessica had spent their afternoon.

I found them exactly where I left them.

David was on his laptop. Not job hunting. Looking at commercial lawn mowers on the John Deere website.

Jessica had a notebook full of business names and logo sketches. “Green Thumb Landscaping.” “Williams Lawn and Garden.” “Evergreen Pros.”

“How did it go?” David asked eagerly.

“The building is mine,” I said. “The escrow money is in my account. And I have an offer to sell the building for one point eight million.”

Their mouths fell open at the same time.

“Plus the escrow money,” Jessica whispered. “That’s two and a half million dollars.”

“It’s my inheritance from my father,” I said. “Not yours.”

I picked up David’s laptop and looked at the screen.

“David, what did you do this afternoon while I was in Portland?”

“I was researching equipment.”

“For a business that doesn’t exist. Instead of looking for a job that does.” I closed Jessica’s notebook. “And you, Jessica?”

“Branding.”

“More daydreaming,” I said. “Neither of you spent one single minute today doing anything that would actually change your situation.”

“Mom, with two and a half million dollars, you could invest in our future,” David said. “It would barely make a dent.”

“Could I afford it? Yes. Should I invest in two people who won’t even look for jobs while they live in my house for free? No.”

“You’re being cruel,” Jessica said.

“I’m being practical. And I’ve made a decision about the building.”

They both held their breath.

“I’m accepting the offer,” I said.

I pulled out my phone and showed them a rental listing I’d found on the drive home.

“It’s a two-bedroom apartment in Aloha. About fifteen minutes from here. Available now. Fifteen hundred a month. The lease would be in your names. I’ll pay the first month’s rent as a move-out gift.”

“You want us to rent an apartment?” Jessica’s voice was flat.

“I want you to become independent adults.”

“Mom, we can’t afford fifteen hundred a month,” David said.

“Then you’d better find jobs quickly.”

The apartment viewing was Thursday morning. I insisted on driving them myself.

It was perfect for them. Two bedrooms. A nice kitchen. Washer and dryer hookups. A little balcony.

The property manager, a friendly woman named Carol, was explaining the lease when my phone buzzed.

A text from Thomas.

“Important. Call me right away.”

I stepped outside onto the walkway and called him.

“Margaret,” he said. “I’ve got news you need to hear. Jessica’s former employer filed a criminal complaint. The medical supply company. It’s not about pens and paper.”

My stomach dropped.

“They audited her accounts payable work after she left,” Thomas said. “She created invoices for two vendors that don’t exist. Over six months, she paid out almost fifty thousand dollars to a bank account in her own name.”

Fifty thousand dollars.

No wonder they were drowning. No wonder she’d quit before anybody found out.

“There’s more,” Thomas said. “The Oregon Employment Department flagged David’s unemployment claim. He’s been certifying every week that he’s actively looking for work. They’ve checked. There’s almost no record of applications.”

“How bad is this, Thomas?”

“Jessica could be facing felony theft charges. David’s situation is less serious, but he’ll likely have to pay back the benefits. And the detective will probably want to talk to you since they’ve been living in your house. Just to confirm you weren’t involved.”

I looked through the apartment window at my son and his wife, standing in that empty living room, talking to Carol about paint colors.

They had no idea their past was about to walk through the door.