Chapter 6
Marcus asked the chapel coordinator for the final guest list.
She sent it that morning. My name appeared on an earlier version beside the front-row seat. On the updated list, the seat had been removed.
Renata had requested the change. The coordinator had kept her email.
Marcus forwarded it to me with one line.
I told you it was a family decision. I knew only that Renata was upset with you. I should have asked what happened.
I read it while sitting at the kitchen table. I appreciated his honesty. I also remembered the way he had blocked the door with his whole body.
We met later that day. Marcus brought the guest lists and his phone.
“I didn’t know she changed the list until Daniel told me,” he said. “But when she said she didn’t want you there, I agreed.”
“Why?”
“She said you had called her dishonest.”
“I had asked her to explain the papers.”
“I know that now.”
“You could have called me before the wedding.”
“I should have.”
We sat with that. I did not want him to think the guest list was the only thing that had hurt me.
“When you said the family decided I was out,” I told him, “I thought you meant you’d stopped seeing me as family.”
“I was angry. I wanted you to feel shut out the way I felt shut out of Dad’s estate.”
His answer hurt, but I had asked for the truth.
“I kept information from you,” I said. “I did not stop loving you.”
“I know.”
“I want us to say what we’re angry about before we use it to hurt each other again.”
Marcus nodded. He asked whether we could see a counselor together. I agreed.
The first session was difficult. I talked about Walter’s letter and why I had waited. Marcus talked about growing up believing his father trusted me with serious matters and expected him only to enjoy the results.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I said.
“I didn’t tell you.”
The counselor asked us to make time for a second conversation about the trust, separate from Renata and the lender’s investigation. Marcus wanted to meet the managers Walter had mentioned. I asked Mr. Whitlow to arrange it.
In the meantime, the lender completed its internal review. It confirmed that the application contained an unauthorized signature and had never been approved. It referred the records to investigators who could decide whether to take further action.
The referral meant more waiting. Marcus asked if there was anything we needed to do immediately. Mr. Whitlow told us to preserve the documents and answer any questions honestly.
Renata sent Marcus a long letter. He read it at home, then brought it to Ms. Cole. He did not show it to me, and I didn’t ask.
A few days later, he told me she had apologized for excluding me from the chapel. She still maintained that she had expected Daniel to obtain my consent before submitting the application.
“Do you believe her?” I asked.
“I believe she wishes it hadn’t happened. I don’t know how much she knew about the signature.”
“That’s a question the records may answer.”
He nodded. I could hear how tired he was of the question.
The first trust manager Marcus met was a woman named Ada Bell. Walter had hired her twenty years earlier to oversee a row of small commercial properties. She showed Marcus how rents paid for repairs, insurance, and staff before anyone took a return.
Marcus listened closely. After the meeting, he asked to tour one of the buildings.
I went with him. Ada introduced us to a tenant who ran a repair shop. He remembered Walter coming by after a storm to help clear water from the doorway.
“Your father never talked much about owning the place,” the man told Marcus. “He wanted to know whether we could open the next morning.”
Marcus looked at me when we left.
“I wish I’d seen this while he was alive.”
“So do I.”
At our second counseling session, he said the same thing. I told him I had been so afraid of failing Walter’s request that I forgot Marcus needed to hear about his father from the people who had worked beside him.
“I’m ready to learn,” Marcus said.
“I can see that.”
He smiled, then grew serious. “Renata and I are separating.”
I had known he was considering it. Hearing him say it aloud still made me sad for the life he had wanted.
“Have you told her?”
“Yes. Ms. Cole helped me put the practical details in writing. Renata moved her remaining things from the apartment.”
I asked if he wanted to stay for dinner. He did.
We cooked Walter’s favorite stew. Marcus cut the carrots too thick, just as he had when he was twelve. Halfway through the meal, his phone rang. It was Renata.
He looked at the screen and let it go to voicemail.
Later, he listened to the message. She said Adrian was blaming her for the application and she needed Marcus to tell investigators she had not prepared it.
May you like
Marcus called Ms. Cole before answering.
The next morning, he gave investigators his own statement about what he had signed and what Renata had told him. He did not speak for her. He spoke for himself.
