Chương 3
Now she stepped closer to the wall beneath the covered entrance and tucked wet hair behind her ear.
“You told me Daniel forged the first deed,” she said.
Margaret’s mouth opened.
Claire continued.
“You said Dad never signed anything. You said Daniel filed it after Dad was sick and confused.”
“He was confused.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Claire—”
“You said Daniel put his own name on the deed.”
Margaret turned toward the sedan.
“I’m not doing this here.”
Ortiz said, “We can continue downtown.”
Margaret looked at her.
“Am I required to go?”
“No.”
“Then I’m calling my attorney.”
“That’s probably wise.”
Margaret took out her phone.
Daniel watched her move away toward the edge of the portico, where the rain blurred the lake beyond the circular drive.
Mark came beside him.
“You okay?”
Daniel touched his cheek.
“I’ve been hit harder.”
“By who?”
“My ex-wife threw a Roku remote at me once.”
Mark stared at him.
Daniel shrugged.
“She missed.”
Mark gave a short laugh, then immediately looked guilty for it.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
They stood without speaking.
Behind them, the driver returned to the truck.
The engine continued idling.
Emily was crying now, though she seemed irritated by it. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand and checked whether Margaret had noticed.
She had not.
Claire went inside and returned with the brass key bowl.
She held it out to Daniel.
“These are hers.”
Daniel looked at the keys inside.
Front door. Side door. Gate remote. Boat shed. Wine cabinet.
His father had used little plastic labels because he could never remember which key opened which lock.
Charles had labeled one of them GARAGE, then discovered it opened the mechanical room. He never corrected it.
Daniel picked up the gate remote.
“Keep the rest for now.”
Claire looked surprised.
“You’re letting her have keys?”
“She’s not moving in tonight. I didn’t say she can never come back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer seemed to calm her more than a confident one would have.
Margaret finished her call.
“My attorney says I should not speak with you.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Then we won’t question you.”
“And he says you have no authority to take my property.”
“We haven’t taken any of your property.”
“My deed.”
“That copy was provided by Mr. Mercer.”
Margaret looked at Daniel.
“You kept a copy.”
“I made six.”
His father would have approved of that.
Charles Mercer had once photocopied a warranty for a toaster.
The memory arrived so abruptly Daniel nearly smiled.
Instead he looked at his mother and saw that she was shivering.
“Emily,” he said.
“I know.”
Emily took off her rain jacket and tried to put it around Margaret’s shoulders.
Margaret pushed it away.
“I’m not an invalid.”
“No one said you were.”
“Everybody keeps touching me.”
Emily stepped back.
Margaret walked toward Emily’s SUV.
Halfway there she stopped.
She looked at the villa.
Then at Daniel.
“You think a piece of paper makes this yours?”
Daniel almost answered.
Then he saw the windows behind her.
Thirty-two years earlier, his parents had bought the property when the original house was still a low cedar structure with a leaking roof and a kitchen full of ants. Charles had expanded it in stages whenever his contracting business had a good year. Margaret had chosen every piece of limestone, every cabinet pull, every ridiculous oversized light fixture that Daniel teased her about.
She had raised three children there.
She had hosted Christmas mornings and school fundraisers and funerals and one disastrous Fourth of July when Mark set fire to a patch of ornamental grass with a bottle rocket.
A piece of paper did not contain any of that.
But neither did memory create ownership.
Daniel looked at her.
“No.”
He put his keys back in his pocket.
“But lying doesn’t make it yours either.”
Margaret got into Emily’s SUV.
The detectives left a few minutes later.
No arrest.
No handcuffs.
No dramatic ending.
The movers stood around waiting for instructions.
Daniel paid the driver for the extra hour and told him to reload everything that had been brought inside. Mark helped because otherwise the bottom of two boxes would have given out in the rain.
Claire carried the teal suitcase back to Emily’s car.
Emily sat behind the steering wheel staring through the windshield.
Margaret sat in the passenger seat, rigid and silent.
When Daniel walked past, his mother did not look at him.
Emily did.
“Did you know they were coming?”
“I knew they might.”
“You could have warned us.”
“I tried to call you this morning.”
“You said it was about the house.”
“It was.”
“You always say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like the words should be enough.”
Daniel rested one hand on the roof of the SUV.
Rain had blown under the portico and darkened his shirt across one shoulder.
“What did you want me to say?”
Emily looked toward their mother.
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I know.”
Emily looked back at him.
There it was again, the old family problem. Daniel answering questions as literally as possible when emotion made literal answers almost useless.
“You knew she lied to me,” Emily said.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“About which part?”
Emily shut her eyes.
“God, Daniel.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“You never think you are.”
Margaret turned her face toward the passenger window.
Daniel took his hand off the roof.
Emily lowered her voice.
“Did Dad really sign the house over to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he understand what he was signing?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Daniel felt irritation flicker.
He hated that Margaret had made the question feel like an accusation when it was a reasonable question.
May you like
“There was an attorney there. Dad’s physician had already documented his capacity. The attorney met with him alone before I went into the room.”
Emily stared at him.
