Then another strike followed almost immediately.
My mother stumbled backward into the wooden console table near the entrance.
A small blue ceramic vase shook at the edge, fell onto the hardwood floor, and shattered into dozens of tiny pieces.
My husband, Brandon, was still standing there with his right hand raised, his fingers stiff and his knuckles pale.
I stared at him in disbelief.
“What on earth are you doing?”
His face was completely red with rage.
He pointed aggressively at my mother and shouted, “Why don’t you ask your thieving mother what she did?”
According to Brandon, $10,500 had disappeared from a hidden drawer inside his private office desk.
He claimed that he had gone downstairs for only a few minutes to pick up a package from the lobby.
When he came back upstairs, the cash was gone.
My mother had been the only other person inside the apartment.
