Chương 9
Emily learned about it from a woman she barely knew at her daughter’s soccer practice.
“People are saying Mom stole the house,” she told Daniel on the phone.
“She tried to.”
“That’s not helping.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not say it like that.”
Daniel stared through the windshield of his truck.
He was parked outside a hardware store, holding a bag of cabinet hinges he had bought for a job that was not his.
“Emily, she forged Dad’s signature.”
“I know what she did.”
“Then why are we debating vocabulary?”
“Because she is still our mother.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Daniel almost ended the call.
Instead he counted to five.
It was something his therapist had told him to do years earlier during his divorce.
He had thought it was stupid.
It remained stupid.
Sometimes it worked.
“What happened at soccer?”
Emily exhaled.
“A woman asked whether Mom was going to jail.”
“What did you say?”
“That I didn’t know what she was talking about.”
“Okay.”
“She knew I knew.”
“Also okay.”
“I hate this.”
Daniel softened.
“Yeah.”
“I hate that everybody has an opinion.”
“Stop reading the posts.”
“I’m not reading them. They find me.”
He understood that.
His own phone had filled with messages from people he had not spoken to in years.
Some were supportive.
Some curious.
One former classmate wrote, Crazy about your mom. Hope you get the house.
Daniel deleted it without answering.
As though the house were a prize somebody might win after enough family damage.
The civil case moved faster than the criminal investigation and slower than anyone wanted.
Margaret’s attorney agreed not to challenge a temporary order preventing new loans or transfers against the property. In return, Daniel agreed not to sell the house while the title dispute remained unresolved.
Rachel called it practical.
Margaret called it coercion.
Emily called it one more thing she did not understand.
Daniel started using the villa on weekends because leaving it empty felt worse.
He bought groceries.
Changed the locks.
Installed no cameras inside, despite Rachel suggesting he document entries.
Instead he placed one camera facing the driveway.
He hated himself slightly for checking it.
Most weeks nothing happened.
A package.
A landscaping crew.
Claire once arriving at midnight because she had forgotten the house no longer contained her old bedroom furniture and wanted somewhere to sleep after an argument with her boyfriend.
Daniel found her on the sofa the next morning wearing one of Charles’s ancient sweatshirts.
“You broke in,” he said.
“I used the code.”
“You’re not supposed to know the new code.”
“You used Dad’s birthday backward.”
Daniel stared at her.
Claire took a sip of coffee.
“You are not a complex man.”
He changed the code after she left.
Then texted it to her.
In late September, Daniel met his mother at a diner halfway between the townhouse and Emily’s house.
Margaret chose the diner because, she said, nobody in their family would accidentally walk in.
The hostess recognized her anyway.
“Mrs. Mercer, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Margaret smiled.
It was automatic and convincing.
“Been busy.”
They took a booth in the back.
Margaret ordered tea.
Daniel ordered coffee and regretted it after one sip.
For several minutes they discussed nothing.
The waitress brought creamers.
Margaret arranged hers in a straight line.
Finally Daniel said, “How much did you lose?”
She looked at him.
“To Larkin.”
“I’m not supposed to discuss the investigation.”
“I’m not asking what you told police.”
“You are, actually.”
“I’m asking my mother how much money she lost.”
Margaret stared at the creamers.
“Six hundred and twelve thousand.”
Daniel set down his cup.
“You said the townhouse loan was four hundred.”
“I used investments too.”
“Dad’s investments?”
“My inheritance.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Margaret looked embarrassed.
The expression unsettled him.
She had been angry, frightened, defensive, righteous.
Embarrassment made her look smaller.
“It started with fifty.”
“Thousand?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“There were delays.”
Daniel knew the pattern before she explained it.
Permitting issues.
Construction cost increases.
Bridge financing.
A partner who needed emergency capital.
A promise that the next infusion would protect the previous one.
Margaret had not given six hundred thousand dollars to Wade Larkin in one irrational act.
She had given him fifty.
Then another thirty to avoid losing fifty.
Then eighty to avoid losing eighty.
By the time the numbers became frightening, admitting the first mistake would have required admitting all of them.
“So the one point two million was to recover the project?”
“To refinance my debt and complete phase one.”
“There is no phase one.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Mom.”
“There is land.”
“Where?”
She told him.
Daniel knew the area.
Floodplain.
His construction instincts reacted before his family instincts did.
“Did you see engineering reports?”
“Yes.”
“With whose engineer?”
“Wade’s.”
“Independent?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel rubbed his face.
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’ve already decided I’m stupid.”
Daniel sat back.
“You are not stupid.”
“That sounded painful.”
“You made a terrible financial decision.”
“So did your father.”
“Yes.”
The agreement surprised both of them.
Margaret looked down.
Daniel stirred coffee he was not drinking.
“Dad nearly lost this house because he guaranteed Marty Bell’s warehouse loan.”
“I know.”
“He hid it from you.”
“I know.”
“He told me not to tell you.”
“I know that too.”
Daniel frowned.
“You knew?”
“I found the bank letters.”
“When?”
“Before his stroke.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You knew and you didn’t say anything?”
“What would saying it have done?”
“You spent three years blaming me for the transfer.”
“I blamed you because you agreed.”
“The bank was going to foreclose.”
“We could have sold.”
“Dad refused.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
Margaret looked toward the diner windows.
Cars moved along the wet street.
“Because I was tired of that house.”
Daniel was silent.
She smiled faintly at his surprise.
May you like
“There. Nobody believes that part.”
“Why were you moving back?”
