Ms. Carter, can you confirm your relationship with Richard and Patricia Carter?
I blinked at my borrowed laptop screen. They’re my parents, my mother and stepfather. Why?
Silence. Too long.
Miss Carter, I think you need to come to our office. There’s something you should see.
Can’t you just tell me over the phone?
I really think he cleared his throat. It would be better in person.
I made an appointment for the next morning. After I hung up, I sat staring at the wall for a long time.
Jason found me like that when he got home from work.
Evelyn, you okay?
The insurance company wants me to come in. Something about my parents.
Your parents? What do they have to do with your insurance?
I don’t know. I met his eyes. But the guy mentioned something about a beneficiary designation form dated 6 months ago.
Jason frowned.
Beneficiary on renters’s insurance. That’s weird.
Yeah. I hugged my knees to my chest. That’s what I thought, too.
That night, I barely slept. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I just didn’t know how wrong.
The insurance office smelled like stale coffee and bad news. Greg was younger than he’d sounded, maybe 30, with apologetic eyes behind wire- rimmed glasses. He led me to a small conference room and closed the door.
“Miss Carter, I want to start by saying I’m very sorry about your loss. Thank you, but you didn’t bring me here for condolences.”
He sighed, slid a folder across the table.
I opened it. My policy, standard stuff, my name as the insured, coverage amounts, effective dates. Then I turned to the last page.
Beneficiary designation, Richard Carter, Patricia Carter, 100%.
The room tilted.
This is a mistake, I heard myself say. I never signed this. I would never.
Ms. Carter.
Greg pointed to the bottom of the page.
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