Chương 10
At the studio, Milo went directly to Evan's sneakers and sniffed them.
"Don't."
The word came out too sharply.
He backed away.
I sat on the floor beside the shoes.
After a moment, he returned and curled against my thigh.
I stayed there until the room darkened.
Daniel called at seven.
"Are you somewhere private?"
"Yes."
"Patrick and I spoke."
I switched on the lamp.
"And?"
"The financial situation appears to be worse than I expected."
"Mine or theirs?"
"Theirs."
I waited.
"Ryan and Tessa owe approximately eighty-six thousand dollars connected to the catering business."
I closed my eyes.
"I knew they had debt."
"Did you know Linda guaranteed some of it?"
"No."
"She did."
"How much?"
"Patrick hasn't produced documentation yet, but he says substantial personal guarantees."
I stood and began pacing.
"What does that have to do with my house?"
"That's the important question."
"Daniel."
"I'm getting there."
He sounded tired now.
"According to Patrick, your mother believed she had an equitable interest in the bungalow because of money she says she contributed over the years."
"What money?"
"She claims she helped with the down payment."
"She gave Owen and me eight thousand dollars when we bought it."
"Gift or loan?"
"Gift."
"Documentation?"
"Probably."
Owen's parents had given us money too.
Both families had helped because we were young, underpaid, and convinced homeownership would make us adults.
"Anything else?"
"She claims improvements."
"She bought curtains."
"Claire."
"I'm serious."
"Patrick mentioned approximately thirty thousand dollars."
I stopped pacing.
"That's impossible."
"That's why we're asking for records."
"She didn't have thirty thousand dollars."
"Maybe she didn't."
The implication arrived before he said it.
"Whose money?"
"We don't know."
I thought about the missing bank statements.
The opened mail.
The old power of attorney.
"Did she take money from me?"
"I don't have evidence of that."
"Yet."
"Correct."
I sat at the kitchen table.
Milo scratched twice at the rug and lay down.
"Patrick says Linda's position is that she used family funds for expenses associated with the house and Evan."
"What family funds?"
"He wasn't specific."
"I don't have family funds."
"I know."
"No, Daniel, I mean there is no shared account."
"Then we trace what existed."
My mouth tasted metallic.
For years, I had paid medical bills from checking, savings, credit cards, payment plans, and whatever else kept collection notices away.
There had been fundraising money once.
That thought made me sit straighter.
When Evan underwent surgery at nine, friends from school had organized an online fundraiser.
We raised a little over twenty thousand dollars.
Most went toward travel, deductibles, and unpaid leave.
Mom had helped manage deposits because I spent nearly a month at the hospital.
"Daniel."
"What?"
"There was a fundraiser."
He became quiet.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"Who controlled the account?"
"I did."
"Anyone else have access?"
"I don't remember."
That sentence frightened me now.
I opened my banking app.
The account used for the fundraiser had been closed two years earlier.
Historical statements weren't immediately available.
Daniel told me to request them.
Then he said something that made my stomach drop.
"Patrick also mentioned a promissory note."
"What promissory note?"
"Supposedly signed by you."
"I never signed one."
"He says Linda has one."
"For what?"
"Forty-two thousand dollars."
I stood again.
"No."
"That's what I said."
"I didn't borrow forty-two thousand dollars from my mother."
"Then we inspect the document."
"She didn't have forty-two thousand dollars to lend me."
"That may become relevant."
"What does it say the money was for?"
"Household support and medical expenses."
I laughed.
There was no humor in it.
"She lived in my house for free."
"I understand."
"I paid her electric bill."
"I understand."
"I bought groceries for them."
"Claire."
"I paid for Ryan's truck repair in February."
"Write it down."
I stopped.
That was Daniel's answer to everything.
Not rage.
Not disbelief.
Write it down.
So I did.
Truck repair.
Seven hundred eighty-four dollars.
I still had the transfer receipt.
"Patrick wants to send the note tomorrow," Daniel said.
"Why didn't he send it today?"
"He says he needs authorization."
"From Mom?"
"Presumably."
"She's the one claiming it."
"Yes."
Something felt wrong.
"If it's real, why are they hesitating?"
Daniel was silent.
"That's a good question."
After the call, I searched old bank transactions until the numbers blurred.
The fundraiser account was inaccessible through the app, but I found tax records showing transfers.
Then an old email surfaced from Mom.
It contained a spreadsheet.
EVAN MEDICAL FUND.
I opened it.
Mom had created the file three years earlier to help track donations and expenses.
For several minutes, everything looked ordinary.
Hospital parking.
Hotels.
Prescription copays.
Insurance deductible.
Then I reached a line labeled FAMILY LOAN REPAYMENT.
$6,500.
I didn't recognize it.
Another appeared two months later.
$4,000.
Then $3,250.
All marked as repayments to L.M.
My mother.
I called Owen.
He answered from Denver.
"Did we owe my mother money during Evan's surgery?"
"What?"
"Three years ago."
"No."
"Think."
"I am."
"Did she lend us anything?"
"She paid for a hotel once."
"How much?"
"Maybe six hundred bucks."
"Anything else?"
"No."
I told him about the spreadsheet.
He went quiet.
"Claire, I never saw that."
"Neither did I."
"Where did the money go?"
"I don't know."
"Can you get the statements?"
"I requested them."
He swore softly.
Then he said, "Wait."
"What?"
"When we divorced, there was an argument about one of Evan's accounts."
I remembered the argument.
Not the details.
Just a kitchen table covered in papers and both of us too exhausted to be decent.
"What account?"
"The education savings."
My stomach tightened.
"You accused me of moving money."
"I did?"
"You thought I had."
"Did you?"
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"How much was missing?"
"Not much."
"How much?"
"About five thousand."
"Why didn't we investigate?"
"We were getting divorced, Evan was sick, and three weeks later you found a statement showing a transfer."
"To where?"
May you like
"I thought another one of your accounts."
I couldn't remember.
