Chương 9
I stared at the word.
"Power of attorney?"
He nodded.
Lucie inhaled slowly.
"For the property?"
Arthur nodded again.
"Did you sign it?"
No.
The answer came in the form of a fierce shake of his head.
"What happened then?"
His pen stopped.
His left hand began trembling.
Lucie touched his wrist.
"Enough."
He pulled away.
"Arthur."
He wrote one final word.
FIGHT.
I felt something cold move through me.
"She fought with you?"
He nodded.
"Verbally?"
He looked at me.
That was not an answer.
"Dad."
Lucie stood.
"Alexandre, stop."
I ignored her.
"Did she hit you?"
Arthur's face twisted.
He shook his head.
Then he hesitated.
The hesitation frightened me more than a yes would have.
Lucie stepped between us.
"That's enough."
"I need to know."
"You need him not to have another medical event because you're interrogating him."
"I'm not interrogating him."
"You are."
She took the notebook from his lap.
"I said enough."
I almost argued.
Then I saw my father's breathing.
His chest was rising too fast.
His fingers had curled into the blanket.
I stepped back.
"Fine."
Lucie adjusted his pillows.
"Slow breaths, Arthur."
He glared at me over her shoulder.
"Yes, I know," I said.
"I'm the problem."
One corner of his mouth moved.
Lucie noticed.
"Don't encourage him."
Dad managed another faint smile.
I walked outside because there was nowhere else for my anger to go.
The rain had stopped, but the yard between the warehouses remained slick and brown.
A mechanic across the lane was smoking beside a pile of tires.
He glanced at me, then at the SUV, then back at me.
"Wrong neighborhood?"
"Apparently."
He shrugged.
"Happens."
I stood there with my hands in my coat pockets and stared at a puddle reflecting a broken gutter.
My phone vibrated.
Henri.
I answered.
"We found the loan."
His voice was clipped.
"Tell me."
"Three hundred ninety-eight thousand euros issued to Sorelle Conseil two years and eleven months ago."
"Secured by my father's property?"
"Yes."
"Current balance?"
"Four hundred twenty-six thousand including penalties and fees."
I closed my eyes.
"Is it in default?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Seven months."
"Why hasn't the house been seized?"
"Because the lender sold the debt."
"To whom?"
"A private recovery company."
"Name?"
Henri paused.
"Valmont Asset Services."
I knew the name.
Not personally.
Professionally.
Valmont specialized in distressed commercial debt and property-backed recovery.
They bought bad loans cheaply and squeezed value out of whatever collateral remained.
"How bad?"
"Bad enough that I called you immediately."
"Can they take the house?"
"If the documents are valid and the default continues, they can pursue enforcement."
"When?"
"They've already started."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What do you mean?"
"A notice was issued twelve days ago."
"To Dad?"
"To the registered address."
"He's been gone for months."
"I know."
"Margaux gets the mail."
"Then she probably knows."
I turned toward the metal door.
"Why would she keep asking me for care payments if she knew the house was about to be taken?"
Henri was silent.
"Henri?"
"Because the care payments may not be about care."
"I know that."
"No."
His tone changed.
"I mean there may be a second financial problem."
"What did you find?"
"Nothing conclusive yet."
"Then why say it?"
"Because the monthly amount matters."
"Thirty-five hundred."
"You said she asked for another twelve hundred this month."
"Yes."
"That brings it close to forty-seven hundred."
"So?"
"Valmont offered a temporary forbearance arrangement."
My stomach tightened.
"How much?"
"Forty-five hundred a month."
The mechanic flicked ash into the gutter.
I stared at him without seeing him.
"You're saying my money has been going toward the defaulted loan."
"I am saying the numbers are close enough that we need records before assuming coincidence."
"Why would she tell me it was for Dad?"
"Because you would pay for Dad."
That answer hurt because it was obvious.
"Can you get the Valmont payment history?"
"Not without authorization."
"Dad can authorize it."
"If he has capacity to understand what he's signing, yes."
"He does."
"Then I can come tomorrow."
"Come today."
"I have court."
"After court."
A pause.
"Fine."
I hung up.
Lucie was standing in the doorway.
I had not heard her come out.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough."
"Did you know about the default?"
"No."
Her face had changed.
The anger was still there, but now fear had joined it.
"The house matters to Arthur."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
I almost snapped back.
Instead, I waited.
Lucie looked toward the room.
"After your mother died, he slept downstairs for six months because he couldn't make himself use their bedroom."
I said nothing.
"He told me once that the stupid wallpaper in the hallway was the last thing they argued about."
I remembered that wallpaper.
Yellow vines on cream.
My mother loved it.
Dad said it looked like something from a dentist's waiting room.
They had fought about it for two weeks and then never changed it.
"He laughs when he talks about it," Lucie said.
"Or he did before the stroke."
I looked at her.
"Why did he tell you things like that?"
"Because I listened."
That one found its mark.
She seemed to regret saying it immediately.
Not because it was untrue.
Because it was cruel.
"Sorry," she said.
"No."
I looked away.
"Don't be."
We stood in silence.
A delivery van rolled past the end of the street.
Someone inside the warehouse next door dropped something heavy and cursed.
Lucie pulled her coat tighter.
"Did Henri find anything else?"
"The debt was sold to Valmont."
She knew the name.
I saw it immediately.
"You've heard of them."
"Arthur had a letter."
"When?"
"About two months ago."
"You didn't mention that."
"I didn't know what it meant."
"Where is it?"
"I put it with his papers."
She went inside.
I followed.
Arthur was resting with his eyes closed.
May you like
Lucie opened the lower drawer of the cabinet and removed an envelope.
The paper was creased and stained along one edge.
