Chapter 6
I met Vanessa at Patricia’s office to discuss Naomi.
I did not want our daughter caught between angry phone calls and surprise visits. Patricia had arranged for someone experienced with family matters to help us agree on a temporary schedule.
Vanessa arrived with her own attorney. She looked at me once, then focused on the calendar.
She asked to see Naomi every other weekend and one evening during the week. I said I wanted a plan that let Naomi keep her school routine and gave her time with both parents. We spent nearly two hours working through pickup times, calls, and how we would handle changes.
When the conversation ended, Vanessa stayed behind.
“Could you give us a minute?” she asked the others.
Patricia checked with me. I said yes, and she remained just outside the open door.
Vanessa rubbed her hands together.
“I never wanted Naomi upset.”
“She is upset.”
“I know. I should have told her less.”
“You told her Grandma was confused.”
“I thought Ruth was making a mistake. I still do.”
“She told you she didn’t want to sell.”
Vanessa looked away.
“We had bills, Isaiah. The kitchen renovation cost more than I said it would. I thought if we all lived in a bigger house, your mother would be happier too.”
“You needed to talk to me about the bills.”
“You would have said we couldn’t afford the changes. You always say that.”
“I would have been right.”
She flinched. I was angry, but I wanted to understand what she had actually done.
“Did you plan to use Mom’s sale to pay our debt?” I asked.
“I planned to repay what I borrowed once her house sold.”
I stared at her.
“What did you borrow?”
She closed her eyes.
“Money from Dana. For the contractor.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-four thousand dollars.”
The kitchen renovation had been finished four months earlier. Vanessa had told me she used savings from her own account. I had believed her.
“Does Dana know you expected money from Mom’s house?”
“She knows I said I’d repay her.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Vanessa said nothing.
I stood.
“Send me the loan agreement and the renovation bills. Patricia can help us work out the financial side of our marriage. Mom is not paying your debt.”
I went into the hall before I said something I couldn’t take back.
That night, Naomi spent an hour with Vanessa at a café under the new temporary schedule. I dropped her off and returned when we had agreed. She came out carrying a small packet of cookies.
“Did you have a good visit?” I asked.
“Some of it.”
She waited until we were in the car.
“Mom said she wanted Grandma to live with us so she wouldn’t be lonely.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her Grandma likes her own house. Mom said I’m starting to sound like you.”
I kept my eyes on the road.
“You can say what you think to both of us.”
Naomi opened the cookie packet and offered me one.
“I told her I still want to see her. She cried.”
“That must have felt hard.”
“It did.”
When we got home, Mom was finishing a puzzle at the kitchen table. Naomi went straight to her.
“Will I still get to come over after you go home?” she asked.
“Whenever you like, with your dad’s permission,” Mom said.
Naomi sat down to help with the puzzle.
The builder started work on Mom’s porch the next week. She supervised him from a chair inside the front window and called me only when she wanted help moving a planter. I came after work and found her laughing because she had convinced him to save a sound piece of the old railing.
“It has my father’s initials beneath it,” she said. “He helped us build this porch.”
She wanted the piece framed for Naomi. I took it to a local carpenter.
On Friday, the investigator called Mom. He had reviewed the submitted forms and wanted to ask about a signature on a later document sent to the agent. Mom asked him to bring it to Patricia’s office.
When he laid it on the table, Mom leaned forward.
“That isn’t my signature.”
I looked closely. It was similar to hers, but the final letter had a long loop she never used.
May you like
The document had been submitted two days after the party.
By then, Mom had already told Vanessa she was not selling.
