Chapter 13 - MONDAY AT FIVE
“What happens Monday?” I asked.
Amelia had been trying to answer that since the wrong-number text. She called the lender listed on the guarantee, identified herself as my lawyer, and requested copies of the documents connected to my alleged signature. The lender couldn't disclose everything immediately, but confirmed a scheduled disbursement.
A final $74,000 advance was set to go to Blue Aster at five on Monday under a credit line bearing my name.
“We're disputing that identity,” Amelia said. “I am sending notice to the lender and asking it to suspend the transfer while it investigates.”
I stared at the calendar. Friday afternoon. Seventy-two hours.
The next morning Ethan drove me to the small brick house where Rose had lived. Ruth still had the key. The kitchen smelled faintly of cedar and stale coffee. We opened drawers while Ruth told stories about Rose buying bruised peaches at closing time to make jam.
At the back of a cupboard I found a stack of envelopes labeled for each grandchild. Mine was empty.
“Mom took it,” I said.
Ruth opened hers. Inside was a duplicate trust summary with the name of Rose's original attorney and a handwritten note: If the girls disagree, show them the accounts, not your feelings.
Ethan read it twice. “She knew.”
“She knew fairness needed paper,” Ruth corrected.
We photographed everything and brought the originals to Amelia. Her investigator located the attorney, now retired in Cincinnati. He agreed to meet us Monday morning.
At four that afternoon, a courier appeared at our door with a package addressed to Mrs. Evelyn Mercer. Inside lay a preprinted statement declaring that I'd willingly approved advances to Blue Aster and released all claims against my mother.
A yellow sticky note read: Sign tonight and everyone can move on.
May you like
At the bottom was a line for Ethan's signature too.
My husband picked up the envelope. “They aren't just after your consent,” he said. “They want mine.”
