Chapter 9 - The Second Loan
Harrison sat on the edge of the chair beside my window.
For the first time since moving back home, he looked like a man who understood the ground beneath him had disappeared.
"Sloan took out a personal loan last year," he said.
"How much?"
"Thirty-five thousand."
I closed my eyes.
"For what?"
"I don't know."
"You signed for it?"
"No."
"Then why are you telling me?"
He swallowed.
"Because she listed our monthly housing cost as zero and claimed we had future access to the house."
"Future access?"
"She told the lender the house would eventually be mine."
A cold wave moved through me.
"Eventually?"
"She said it was just to strengthen the application."
"And you knew?"
"Not until tonight."
He covered his face.
"I don't know who I married."
I wanted to comfort him.
The instinct rose automatically.
Then I remembered the emergency account.
"You knew who you were when you took my money."
His hands dropped.
"I was desperate."
"You were dishonest."
He flinched.
"I thought I'd get a job quickly."
"And when you didn't?"
"I kept transferring enough to keep us current."
"On what?"
He looked away.
"Cards. Car payment. Sloan's loan."
"Her handbag?"
His silence answered me.
I laughed once.
"You bought a Gucci purse with money from the emergency account your dead father built."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I was trying to keep my marriage together."
"By stealing from your mother."
He whispered, "Yes."
It was the first fully honest word he had given me.
At seven the next morning, Rachel called.
"We pulled the preliminary credit report you authorized."
"And?"
"There is a credit inquiry you don't recognize."
"For me?"
"Yes."
My throat tightened.
"What kind?"
May you like
Rachel paused.
"A reverse mortgage company."
