Chương 4
He rubbed his forehead.
“I refinanced our house.”
My mouth went dry.
“Sarah knows?”
“Yes.”
“And her parents?”
“No.”
He lowered his voice.
“They offered to help us last year.”
“And you refused.”
“I didn’t want their money.”
“But you were willing to use my house.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
At least he did not defend himself.
The vending machine compressor kicked on beside us.
Somewhere down the hall, a child began crying.
I watched a janitor mop beneath three empty chairs and wondered how many ordinary mornings were continuing outside this building while mine kept splitting into smaller disasters.
“Explain the connection.”
David leaned back.
“Sarah’s parents wanted to downsize.”
“That part I know.”
“They were going to sell their place and buy a condo near us.”
“But?”
“But condos near us are expensive.”
“So Sarah suggested my beach house.”
“At first, just for summers.”
I waited.
“Then she started talking about them living there full-time.”
“And what did that do for your finances?”
He did not answer immediately.
“Her parents were going to give us part of the proceeds from their sale.”
There it was.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
I stared at him.
“In exchange for my house?”
“No.”
“David.”
“They thought the house was basically ours.”
“Because Sarah told them it was.”
He nodded.
“And you knew they believed that.”
Another nod.
“You were going to take two hundred thousand dollars from two people who believed they were moving into a house you did not own.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
I almost asked with what.
Instead, I stood.
“I need coffee.”
He followed me to the machine near the elevators.
The coffee came in a paper cup so thin I needed two.
It tasted burnt.
I drank it anyway.
“You lied to me about the business.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to Sarah’s parents by omission.”
“Yes.”
“You let contractors tear apart my house.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave Richard a key.”
“Yes.”
He looked miserable enough that part of me wanted to comfort him.
I resented that part.
My phone rang.
It was Evelyn.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“The hospital.”
“I heard about the collapse.”
“How?”
“Your contractor called me.”
I stepped away from David.
“Is Mark all right?”
“He’s terrified.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Hannah, I need you to listen carefully.”
Something in her voice changed my posture.
“What?”
“The permit application lists David as the property owner.”
I looked through the glass wall toward my son.
He was staring into his untouched coffee.
“Are you certain?”
“I’m looking at the county record.”
“Did he sign it?”
“There’s an electronic signature under his name.”
My chest tightened.
“What else?”
“The contractor’s agreement names Sarah Bennett as the authorized representative of the owner.”
“David told Mark he wasn’t on the deed.”
“He isn’t.”
“I know that.”
“There’s more.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“The permit application includes an affidavit stating that David acquired ownership through a family transfer.”
I opened my eyes.
“What transfer?”
“None that I can find.”
“Could somebody have forged something?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
I looked at David again.
He noticed and straightened.
“Evelyn, does the county have a deed?”
“No recorded deed transferring the property from you.”
“Then why did they issue the permit?”
“Because building departments review permit applications, Hannah.”
Her voice softened.
“They don’t necessarily conduct a title examination every time someone replaces a kitchen.”
“But this wasn’t replacing a kitchen.”
“No.”
I could hear papers moving on her end.
“And now that there has been a structural collapse with an injury, everyone is going to start asking questions they should have asked before.”
I turned my back to David.
“What do I do?”
“Do not discuss ownership with the insurance carrier until we speak in person.”
“My insurance carrier?”
“They’ve already been notified.”
“By whom?”
“The contractor.”
I pressed two fingers to the bridge of my nose.
“My homeowner’s policy doesn’t cover unauthorized construction, does it?”
“I’m not going to guess.”
That answer frightened me more than a confident no.
“Meet me at the house in an hour.”
“Police are still there.”
“Good.”
Evelyn hung up.
David was standing when I turned around.
“What did she say?”
I held his gaze.
“The permit says you own my house.”
His cup buckled slightly in his hand.
“What?”
“The county has an affidavit saying I transferred it to you.”
“I never filed anything like that.”
“You signed the permit.”
“I signed forms Sarah gave me.”
“What forms?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer was so stupid that I almost admired its purity.
“You signed documents you didn’t read?”
“She said they were contractor paperwork.”
“And because your life was difficult, reading stopped being necessary?”
He flinched.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve much worse, but I don’t have time right now.”
Sarah was walking toward us.
Her mother had gone upstairs to sit with Richard.
Sarah looked from David to me.
“What happened?”
I watched her carefully.
“The county permit says David owns the property.”
Her face changed.
It was small.
A tightening around the eyes.
A pause before she breathed.
But it was enough.
David saw it too.
“Sarah?”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“You knew.”
“No.”
“Don’t.”
He stepped closer.
“Not now.”
She folded her arms.
“I handled the permit because you were drowning at work.”
“What did I sign?”
“Standard forms.”
“Did you tell the county I owned the house?”
“I told them you were handling the project for family property.”
“That isn’t what Mom’s lawyer found.”
People moved around us toward elevators, carrying flowers and overnight bags.
Sarah lowered her voice.
“I can explain.”
I had heard those words many times in hospitals.
Usually they came just before something became harder to explain.
“Then explain.”
She looked at me.
Her eyes were wet now, but she was not crying.
May you like
“My parents would not sell unless they knew they had somewhere permanent.”
“So you told them my house was theirs.”
