Chương 16
Elaine stared at the journal.
“Because she was my daughter.”
The answer made me unexpectedly tired.
Not angry.
Tired.
She continued.
“She said you were busy and that everyone had agreed.”
“And that was enough?”
“No.”
Elaine looked at me.
“That was what I told myself was enough.”
Evelyn asked whether Sarah had shown her identification.
Elaine nodded.
“A scanned copy.”
“Did you record the number from it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you compare the signature?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“The deed.”
I almost laughed.
“So you compared the forged signature to itself.”
Elaine closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
She had written my name, driver’s license number, the property description, and the words FAMILY TRANSFER in her journal.
There was no signature from me in the journal because, of course, I had never been there.
That absence mattered.
So did the timestamp on my clinic badge records, which confirmed that I had entered the medical center before seven that morning and had not left until after six.
The lender’s attorney stopped using the phrase good-faith reliance quite as often after receiving those records.
Sarah hired a lawyer.
David hired a different one.
I learned this from Evelyn, not from either of them.
For eleven days, my son did not call me.
I told myself I preferred it.
Then I checked my phone too often.
On the twelfth morning, he sent one message.
Can I see you without lawyers?
I stared at it through breakfast.
Then through coffee.
Then through another cup of coffee I did not need.
Finally I told him to meet me at the motel.
He arrived carrying a cardboard box.
I had been moved to a different room because a youth soccer tournament had booked most of the building.
The new room overlooked the parking lot instead of the ocean.
David placed the box on the small table.
“What is that?”
“Dad’s company records.”
I looked at him.
“All of them?”
“The files connected to you.”
He opened the box.
Inside were old tax documents, insurance forms, lease papers, photocopies of identification, and several folders with Robert’s handwriting.
I recognized the block letters immediately.
For six years, seeing his handwriting had softened something in me.
That morning it made me angry.
Not at Robert.
At the fact that even his careful filing had become part of this.
“I’m shutting down the company,” David said.
I looked up.
“When?”
“I told the employees yesterday.”
“How many are left?”
“Twenty-four.”
“What happens to them?”
“I’m paying two more weeks if I can.”
“And after that?”
“Some already have interviews.”
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“I called two competitors and asked if they were hiring.”
That sounded like something Robert would have done.
I did not tell him.
“Are you filing bankruptcy?”
“Probably.”
“Your lawyer advised that?”
“Yes.”
“And the city house?”
“We may lose it.”
I waited for him to ask me for help.
He did not.
He looked around the motel room instead.
There was a framed print of a sailboat hanging crookedly above the bed.
He stood and straightened it.
The gesture was so unnecessary and familiar that I almost cried.
Instead, I asked, “Where is Sarah?”
“At her parents’ hotel.”
“Still?”
“Elaine rented a two-bedroom apartment for six months.”
“Richard?”
“He was discharged yesterday.”
“How is he?”
“Miserable.”
“That sounds medically promising.”
David smiled despite himself.
Then it disappeared.
“Sarah and I separated.”
I had expected it.
Hearing it still hurt.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“You hate her.”
“I am furious with her.”
“That’s not the same?”
“No.”
I sat across from him.
“I can be furious with someone and still understand that losing a marriage hurts.”
He nodded.
“We don’t know what happens next.”
“That is between you.”
“She wants counseling.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then say that.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
He looked at the box again.
“Mom, I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
I said nothing.
“I kept thinking I could repair everything before you found out.”
He gave a short laugh.
“Apparently that runs in the family now.”
I did not smile.
He continued.
“I knew the deed was false.”
“Yes.”
“I knew the house wasn’t mine.”
“Yes.”
“I knew the loan was secured against it.”
“Yes.”
Each answer seemed to hurt him.
I did not soften them.
“I didn’t know about Sarah pretending to be you.”
“I believe that.”
His eyes lifted.
It was the first thing I had given him in weeks.
“I also believe you were willing not to know too much.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
“There’s that word again.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the window.
“I was a coward.”
“Sometimes.”
He gave me a tired glance.
“Only sometimes?”
“I’m trying to be accurate.”
That almost made him laugh.
He rubbed his eyes.
“Dad would be disgusted.”
I felt anger return, quick and familiar.
“Stop.”
He lowered his hands.
“Your father is dead.”
“I know.”
“No, you keep using him as a courtroom where you prosecute yourself.”
David stared at me.
“I did it too.”
I swallowed.
“When you first showed me what you had done, I used your father against you because I knew it would hurt.”
His face changed.
“I shouldn’t have.”
He looked down.
“Maybe I deserved it.”
“That does not make it right.”
The air conditioner rattled beneath the window.
Outside, someone struggled to fit a surfboard into the back of a compact car.
David watched for a moment.
“So what happens to us?”
I looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded, but disappointment moved across his face.
“I am not cutting you out of my life today.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“I am also not pretending trust comes back because you feel bad.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I think so.”
“That will have to be enough for now.”
He stayed another hour.
We talked about practical things.
Bankruptcy.
The business equipment.
His employees.
May you like
The boxes of family records.
He told me he had begun scanning everything that needed preservation and shredding what did not.
