Chapter 6 - A SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T HERS
Susan spread the bank notice across our counter and smoothed its corners with trembling fingers.
The loan was secured against the house she'd lived in for thirty-one years.
Three payments were overdue.
A larger balance would come due unless the account was brought current or new terms arranged.
David's name appeared on the paperwork.
So did Susan's.
“I never signed for this,” she whispered.
David stared at the page.
His face told me he recognized it.
“Talk,” I said.
He gripped the sink.
“Dad borrowed money to keep his contracting business afloat.”
“What contracting business?”
“He started it after retiring from the factory.”
“And you signed?”
He nodded.
“I thought I was helping Mom.”
Susan let out a small, broken laugh.
“You didn't ask me.”
“I thought Dad had.”
“How many times have you believed him because it was easier than asking her?” I said.
David had no answer.
Robert called Susan four times while we talked.
On the fifth call she answered, and I watched her shoulders curl inward.
“Come home,” he ordered.
“No,” she said, surprising all three of us.
His voice hardened.
“Then enjoy sleeping in your son's little apartment.”
She hung up, shaking so badly that David helped her sit.
Rachel referred Susan to a lawyer who handled financial exploitation and family property disputes.
We photographed the notice, saved the call history, and made a written list of what Susan remembered signing.
For the first time, I saw how long Robert had practiced making other people doubt themselves.
Near midnight Susan said, “There's another document.”
She reached into her purse again.
It was a photocopy of a power of attorney.
The signature looked like hers, except for one thing.
May you like
Susan pointed to the date.
“I was in the hospital that week.”
