Chapter 7
Megan’s studio opening was canceled.
Celia called to tell me before I saw the announcement. Several vendors had asked for payment, and Megan could not give them a clear date.
I felt a sharp, unwanted sadness.
I had stood beside her in empty storefronts while she imagined where her photographs would hang. I knew what that dream meant to her.
I also knew it did not give her the right to use my name or my money.
Priya arranged a meeting between the lawyers. Megan agreed to return the five thousand dollars at once and provide an accounting of the remaining ten thousand.
The accounting was incomplete.
Some money had paid the studio lease and equipment. Another amount had gone to expenses that were not explained. Priya requested receipts.
Daniel attended one meeting because he had authorized the transfer. I attended with him, though we arrived separately.
Megan sat across the table in a dark blazer. For the first time in weeks, we were in the same room.
She looked at me.
“You know I never meant for things to get this far.”
“I asked you to return the money and tell the truth about my signature.”
“I’m trying.”
“Are you saying I signed it?”
Her lawyer placed a hand on her arm.
Megan looked down.
“I brought papers to the bakery,” she said.
“On the date written there, I was at the hospital with Tasha.”
“Then it must have been another day.”
“Which day?”
“I don’t remember.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You told me you watched Claire sign it.”
Megan’s face reddened.
“I thought she did.”
“How could you think you watched her do something?”
Her lawyer asked for a break.
We went into the hallway. Daniel stood at the far end, pressing his fingers to his eyes.
When the meeting resumed, Megan did not repeat that she had watched me sign. Her lawyer said they would review the document’s origin and respond in writing.
Outside, Daniel said, “She lied to my face.”
“She lied to both of us.”
“I believed her because I wanted to.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He did not ask me to soften it.
The next day, the bank provided an image of the transfer authorization Daniel had completed. His signature was there. Mine was not required for the transfer.
That made the loan agreement even more important to Megan. It was the only paper suggesting I had willingly lent her the money.
Priya hired a document examiner. The examiner compared the questioned signature with samples I had written over several years. The report could not tell us who had signed my name, but it identified differences consistent with someone imitating it.
Priya sent the findings to Megan’s lawyer.
A week later, Megan admitted through counsel that she had written my signature herself.
I sat in Priya’s office and listened to the words.
“She says she believed you would approve once Daniel explained,” Priya told me.
“She knew I said no.”
“Yes.”
“What happens now?”
“We can pursue repayment, and we can report the false signature. I’ll explain the options and the likely process so you can decide.”
I asked for time to read everything.
At home, Tasha made tea while I sat at her kitchen table.
“I thought I’d feel satisfied when she admitted it,” I said.
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel.”
“I miss who I thought she was.”
“I know.”
Megan called once that night. I did not answer.
She left a voicemail.
“Claire, I shouldn’t have signed your name. I panicked. Daniel believed in me, and I thought if the studio opened, I could pay it all back. I hate that you think I wanted to hurt you.”
I listened once and saved it for Priya.
The next morning, I made my decision. I authorized Priya to pursue the full repayment and to report the signature.
I also told Daniel.
He looked at me across the bakery table.
“I’ll cooperate,” he said.
“You’ll need to answer for your part.”
“I know.”
Then he added, “I’ve started counseling. I should have done it when I first noticed I was confiding in her instead of talking to you.”
“I’m glad you started.”
I was not ready to call it a path back to our marriage.
I told him so.
May you like
He said, “I understand.”
For the first time since Lena’s dinner, he sounded as though he did.
