Chapter 7
Susan came to the villa alone on Sunday morning.
I saw her car on the gate camera and went outside before she reached the door. She carried the blue folder against her chest.
“I found it,” she said.
I took it. The edges were bent, but the purchase records and James’s letter were inside. I slipped my hand into the back pocket.
Dad’s handwritten thank-you note was there too.
“Why bring it yourself?” I asked.
“Because I should have stopped him before he took it.”
We stood beneath the pines. Susan looked older than she had at the champagne party.
“Did Dad tell you to pretend to be me at the notary’s office?”
“He told me you’d agreed to transfer the house and couldn’t leave your base. He said the papers only made your decision official.”
“You wore a wig.”
“I knew Marisol wouldn’t mistake me for you otherwise.”
I waited.
“I was afraid we’d lose everything,” she said. “Your father said the buyer would come after us if the villa sale failed.”
“So you knew you were deceiving the notary.”
“Yes.”
It was the first time she had said it without putting the choice on Dad.
“I’m giving my full account to the investigator,” she added. “My attorney will be with me.”
“Good.”
Susan looked toward the windows.
“Your father and I were wrong to come here and celebrate. I saw your face. I still stayed.”
“I needed you to speak then.”
“I know.”
I wanted to ask why she had let Dad use my grief after James died. I was afraid of the answer. I asked anyway.
“Did you know the family home had already been sold when Dad asked for fifty thousand?”
“Yes.”
I opened the folder so she would not see how my hands shook.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
For years, I had called Susan when I needed to hear a familiar voice. That morning, her apology could not bring back the woman I thought I had been calling.
“You should go,” I told her.
She nodded and left.
Inside, I sat at James’s desk and opened his letter. He had written it on a day we were both worried about buying the villa. He said the house did not need to impress anyone. He wanted a place where I could come home tired, sit beside him, and know I did not have to earn my welcome.
I cried until I could read the page again.
Michael called that afternoon. Susan’s attorney had told the investigator she would cooperate. The person Dad owed money to had also come forward after learning of the disputed deed. He claimed Dad had promised to sell the villa to him to repay a private loan.
“Will he try to take the house?” I asked.
“He can’t receive title from someone who doesn’t own it,” Michael said. “We’ll respond to anything he files. His claim against your father is separate.”
The investigator was examining the forged deed, the false letter, and the money Dad had obtained from me. Michael cautioned me that an investigation would take time. I knew better than to count on a result I had not seen.
In the meantime, I had to decide what to do with my family.
Olivia asked if we could meet without Dad or Susan. I suggested a café in Tahoe while David stayed with the children.
She arrived carrying an envelope.
“Dad gave me this before the party,” she said. “I found it in our glove box.”
Inside was a letter supposedly from me. It welcomed Olivia’s family to the villa and said I wanted them to make it their permanent home.
The signature was false.
“I never opened it until yesterday,” Olivia said. “Dad told me it was a surprise to give the kids when we arrived.”
“Why didn’t he hand it to me when I objected?”
“Because he knew you hadn’t written it.”
I looked at her.
“I should have believed you when you said it was your house,” she said. “I was thinking about what I wanted for my children.”
“Do Ben and Lily know why you left?”
“We told them Grandpa had made a mistake about who could offer us the house. I told Ben you hadn’t invited us. He was upset with me.”
“I’m sorry he was hurt.”
“I caused that.”
I folded the false letter back into its envelope. She had brought it because it might help the investigation, though it also showed how readily she had accepted Dad’s story.
“May I give this to Michael?” I asked.
“Yes.”
We drank our coffee without pretending everything was fixed.
Before she left, Olivia said, “I’d like the kids to know you still love them.”
“I do.”
“When you’re ready, I’ll bring them to see you somewhere you choose.”
“I’d like that.”
That evening, I put the blue folder back on James’s desk. I did not put it in the cabinet. I wanted to see it each time I entered.
A week later, the investigator called. He had found evidence that Dad made copies of my signature from the old purchase papers in that folder.
May you like
“He used James’s documents to make the new ones look real,” the investigator said.
I looked at the letter James had written me. Dad had taken it with the records, as if the whole folder were just another tool he could use.
