Chapter 17 - The Recording
The recording was from Thanksgiving.
I remembered the dinner.
Daniel had been gone fourteen months. Harrison had just lost his job. Everyone had been drinking wine.
On the audio, my voice said, "This house will always be yours someday."
Sloan's attorney claimed that statement proved a promise of ownership.
Rachel listened once.
Then again.
"Context?"
I thought back.
Then I remembered.
Harrison had been talking about missing his father.
He had said the house no longer felt like home because Daniel was not there.
I had hugged him and said, "This house will always be yours someday, but right now it's still mine, so stop putting wet glasses on the wood table."
The recording Sloan provided ended after the word someday.
Rachel smiled for the first time in days.
"Do you have the rest?"
"No."
Brenda did.
Of course Brenda did.
She had filmed Thanksgiving dinner because her grandchildren lived out of state and she had been testing a new phone camera.
Her video captured the entire conversation.
Including the sentence Sloan had cut off.
Rachel sent it to opposing counsel.
The house claim disappeared within twenty-four hours.
But Sloan was not done.
She filed a civil demand for the destroyed Gucci handbag.
I stared at the letter.
"She's suing me for the purse?"
"Threatening to," Rachel said.
"After all this?"
"People can be ridiculous and still file paperwork."
I almost laughed.
Then Rachel tapped another page.
"But this creates an opportunity."
"What kind?"
"If she wants compensation for the purse, we can respond with documented damages. Unauthorized transfers. Legal expenses. Identity theft remediation."
I smiled slowly.
"And the cake?"
Rachel's mouth twitched.
"We can include the cake."
The next morning, Sloan withdrew the purse demand.
That afternoon, Harrison received an email.
A job offer.
His first real one in ten months.
He read it twice.
Then looked at me.
"It's in Madison."
"Wisconsin?"
He nodded.
"They want me there in three weeks."
May you like
For the first time, leaving my house was no longer just a punishment.
It was a door.
