The Letter

Georgia714

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Georgia0714

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Georgia071406

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Georgia07142006

Are you kidding me???? 

Eleven pages, front and back, with three columns on each having different combinations of grandchildren's names, birthdays, anniversaries, vacation destinations, car models, and even the farm animals' names and types. 

I think I spent two months writing down different passwords and trying to get into this fossil of a computer. It must've been the very first laptop ever designed or the security settings were turned off because it's given me an infinite number of opportunities to attempt a password without locking me out.

It finally accepted Georgia07142006. I wonder why. 

But it's good because I was running out of cousins. Hayden and Halley, the twins in Minneapolis, I don't know their birthday. 

***

After the initial shock of making it into the device, I perused the different folders and files. My grandfather owned his farm and several other businesses, while also keeping the accounting books, and managing the finances. 

Living on the farm in Iowa, with my grandmother, father, and my six aunts, my grandfather wanted my father to help with the businesses and finances but no such thing would happen. Instead, my grandfather bought this computer from a colleague or a colleague’s friend and took care of it all himself, because who else would?

There was a folder for tax returns and another for the purchase and selling of farm animals. One folder for house utilities and another one labeled “School”, which were all the statements from the various charter and private schools my siblings, cousins and I all have been privileged to attend or are currently still enrolled in.

He never admitted it, but I think with the paid-for-schooling, he would be hoping one grandchild, just one, would follow in his footsteps. 

For some reason, maybe he thought that one grandchild was me.

So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary in any of those folders, but then again, I wasn't sure what I was looking for. 

I thought back to when my grandfather died last year, He fought a long battle with lung cancer; we knew it was coming. He wrote letters to everyone, my father, my aunts, my siblings, and my cousins, but not one to me. 

I should be looking for a letter.

***

Dear Caroline,

If you find this, I miss you my sunshine. I am sorry you had to find this letter here and not receive a handwritten one like the others. There is a reason. Let me explain. 

You've likely been told that your father didn't want to have any part of my business, the farm, the investment firm, and the bakery. (Weren't Granny’s muffins the best? I will miss them!) The truth is, I didn't want him involved. 

The investment firm was all a fraud. I was faking numbers, falsifying documents, and fooling investors, but everyone believed me. 

It didn't start that way at first. (Pete Rose didn't gamble on his very first game, I don't think.) But the income coming in felt good and expenses were piling up. To feed a family of eight, and care for the horses, cows, goats, and chickens, was a lot. 

I have also been sending a monthly stipend to someone who needs some help with bills. 

My sunshine, I'm sorry to have loaded this on you, but I trust you to do as you need. 

Much love,

Granddad

PS: In the Recycle Bin, there is a folder named Georgia0714. 

***

What the actual heck????

I have so many questions that I know I will never get answers to. 

Why me? Was he protecting my father? How long has the fraud been going on? How much? Why does the one mentioned folder have Georgia’s name and birthday again? 

I go to the Recycle Bin because there is no stopping or turning back now. His last sentence (not the PS) tells me to turn the laptop off, burn it, and play ignorant. Keep his secret. If anyone asks about my letter, just lie and play it cool, make something up, or follow a cousin's lead. 

But with the direction to the deleted/recycled folder, he must want me to see or do something, right? 

***

Dear Georgia,

My love. 

July 14, 2006 will always be a special date in my heart. As you know, it's the day my granddaughter Georgia was born. When I saw you in the hospital that day making your rounds as a nurse, I whispered your name, because you took my breath away since then. Dave, sitting next to me, must have heard me, because as soon as I met their child for the first time, she was introduced to me as Georgia Michelle. 

I'm sorry I didn't end my marriage for us. My wife deserved a whole lot better than a man cheating on her, and having a ten-plus-year affair, but I couldn't walk out on my kids, my family, and my farm, leaving her to take care of it all. She wouldn't be able to. I couldn't live with myself. I hope you understand. 

Once I die, the monthly payments won't continue, since nobody knows. 

You were my one true love. Please never forget that.

Xoxo,

Howard

***

I had restored the Georgia0714 folder, feeling icky doing so, before I read the letter. After, I look to see what else is in the folder: more tax returns and a document with passwords. My brain was past the point of comprehending numbers, so reviewing which set of tax returns was legit and which were falsified (if any) would have to wait another day. 

I opened the Word document which had probably over 20 websites, usernames, and passwords. I doubt I even access 20 websites in a month! 

One of the websites was to his bank. I opened Google Chrome, searched for JP Morgan Chase, and logged in. It prompted me to change the password.

To spite my grandfather, I used my first name and my eight-digit date of birth, plus some characters for security purposes.

His account balance had more commas than my final thesis paper for grad school. Okay, maybe an exaggeration but I can see why he needed to get something off his chest.

I looked at the transaction history and saw the $100 transfers sent the first week of every month. There was no concrete date. 

I had a decision to make. Do I close the laptop, call a lawyer, or the police, and turn it all over?

For now, I turn on recurring $100 payments, sent to Georgia Butler, on the 2nd of every month. 

My grandfather would want that.