Chapter 6
I remembered that day clearly.
Rachel had called afterward to ask how I felt. Nate arranged the appointment and drove me because he was visiting Arizona on business.
He had brought paperwork into the hospital waiting area.
He said it was an insurance form.
I signed after a nurse asked us to make room for another patient.
Celia listened while I described it.
“Do you remember how many pages?”
“Two.”
“The refinance file contains more.”
“Then those weren’t what I saw.”
“We’ll compare the records.”
She asked permission to obtain the relevant hospital documentation confirming the date and my treatment. I agreed.
I did not like the idea of strangers reviewing my life.
I liked it less that someone might already have used pieces of it against me.
Rachel sat beside me.
She did not interrupt or translate my answers.
That was important.
At seventy-four, I was tired and sometimes forgot where I left my glasses.
I knew the difference between forgetfulness and having someone replace my memories with theirs.
Nate arrived the following afternoon.
He came to the house first, despite being told the meeting would take place at Celia’s office.
I stood on the porch with Wade nearby.
Nate got out of a dark SUV and looked around at the motorcycles.
“Well,” he said. “This is quite a scene.”
“They’re helping with storm damage.”
“They’re strangers.”
“They asked permission before touching anything.”
His mouth tightened.
“Where is Rachel?”
“At the lodge with the children.”
“I need to speak with you alone.”
“No.”
He looked at Wade.
“Are you telling her what to say?”
Wade stayed where he was.
“She answered you.”
Nate turned back to me.
“Lillian, I’ve been managing this mess for years.”
“I sent you payments the lender never received.”
“We can discuss that.”
“At Celia’s office.”
He exhaled.
“Lawyers make everything expensive.”
“So does a roof that never gets repaired.”
His eyes narrowed.
I had never spoken to him like that before.
He looked past me at the house.
“You can’t live here.”
“Not until the kitchen is safe.”
“Ever. You need supervision.”
I felt fear rise in my chest.
Not because I believed him.
Because I understood what he was trying to make other people believe.
Wade did not step between us.
He asked me quietly, “Do you want this conversation to end?”
“Yes.”
Then he opened the workshop door for me.
I walked inside.
Nate remained on the gravel, angry at an argument he could not continue without an audience.
At Celia’s office, Rachel confronted him with the transfers.
He called some of them reimbursements.
Others, he said, were held for repairs.
Celia asked where the repair funds were.
He said he needed his accountant.
She asked for the accountant’s name.
He changed the subject.
Then she showed him the refinance documents.
His face became still.
“Lillian signed.”
“I signed an insurance form.”
“You always say you don’t understand the paperwork.”
“That does not mean you can tell me it is something else.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Did you use Mom’s money for your business?”
“No.”
“Then show us the account.”
He stood.
“I won’t be interrogated.”
Celia did not raise her voice.
“Then you can respond through counsel.”
He left.
Rachel sat very still.
I reached for her hand.
She said, “He told me we were helping you.”
“I believed he was helping me too.”
She began crying.
There was no triumph in being right about her husband.
Only grief.
That night, Eli asked whether his father was angry with him for bringing the letters.
Rachel crouched in front of him.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“He said I went through his things.”
“You found letters addressed to you.”
Eli looked toward me.
“Are you mad?”
I hugged him.
“I’m glad I know you read them.”
He held on.
The next morning, Celia helped me report the suspected misuse of my money and identity. Investigators would examine the bank trail and documents.
Meanwhile, Nate sent Rachel a message claiming he would seek control over decisions about my home because I was “not competent to manage.”
Rachel showed me.
My hands shook.
Then I looked at Celia.
May you like
“How do I answer that?”
“With your own voice,” she said. “And independent records.”
