Chapter 17 - THE PRICE OF AN APOLOGY
Jessica requested mediation through a new attorney. Priya agreed to hear a proposal, not to surrender any evidence. We met in a plain conference room with bad coffee and no flowers.
Jessica had cut her hair to her shoulders. The little bandage was gone. She looked tired, younger, and angrier than I'd ever seen her.
“I didn't mean to break something that mattered that much,” she said.
“You watched it fall.”
“I was upset.”
“So was I. That's why I won't excuse what I did to you afterward.”
She blinked. I went on. “I was wrong to press broken glass toward your face and shove the frame. I am sorry I frightened you. I've said so in my statement. But my apology doesn't turn your act into an accident.”
Her attorney leaned forward. “Can we return to the financial agreement?”
Jessica offered to withdraw her complaints if I released the lien for half its value. Michael would keep the house temporarily. Grant would be paid first. Everyone, she said, could finally have peace.
“You still think peace is what happens when nobody contradicts you,” I told her.
Michael, seated beside his own attorney, unfolded a paper. “Jess, I won't sign. I won't ask my mother to either.”
For an instant her face softened. “Michael, think about us.”
“I am. I keep thinking about the way I stood next to you while my mother picked up her family's picture.”
“Your mother humiliated me!”
“Yes. She did something wrong. And so did you. You don't get to make hers the only part that counts.”
Jessica pushed back her chair. “You're choosing her over me.”
“No,” he said. “I'm choosing to stop lying.”
She stormed out. Her attorney remained behind, staring at the financial papers Grant had supplied.
“Mrs. Hart,” she said quietly, “I think my client has given us documents she wasn't entitled to possess.”
One page bore Frank's signature.
It was dated six months after his death.
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