Chapter 8: The Morning Everything Shifted
Grace arrived with a younger colleague named Philip who wore latex gloves and carried an evidence bag.
He took the letter without touching the surface.
Took the envelope I'd saved from the recycling.
Photographed both on my kitchen table.
Then Grace and Philip spoke quietly near the back door for several minutes while I made tea I didn't drink.
"Ellen," Grace said, coming back to the table.
"I want to tell you where we stand."
I sat down.
"The power of attorney is void — we've established that.
The notary issue is documented.
I filed the challenge yesterday afternoon, and I've already received confirmation from the county clerk." She folded her hands on the table.
"What Russell brought today is potentially more serious.
If the signature on that letter was fabricated — and based on your account of the dates, it was — then someone in this group has now committed document fraud.
That is a crjminal matter, not just a civil one."
"Do you know who wrote it?"
"Not yet.
But Philip is going to take this to a handwriting specialist I work with regularly.
And I've already contacted the county assessor's office about the title inquiry Sarah made.
There's a name attached to that inquiry.
A friend of hers who works there."
"She mentioned a friend there," I said.
"David told me.
She said she could make things complicated."
"Using a public office to conduct a targeted inquiry on behalf of a personal legal dispute is a misuse of position," Grace said carefully.
"I'm not going to make promises.
But there's a conversation that may need to happen with that office."
Philip zipped the evidence bag and nodded to Grace.
She turned back to me.
"I need to ask you something directly," she said.
"David.
Have you spoken to him since he came here alone?"
"Once.
Briefly, by phone.
He asked if there was any way to resolve this without involving lawyers.
I told him we were past that point."
"How did he respond?"
"He was quiet for a while.
Then he said — 'Mom, I don't think Sarah knows when to stop.'"
Grace's expression shifted very slightly.
Just around the eyes.
"He said that?"
"Yes."
She wrote something down.
"He may be more useful than we thought," she said.
"And more scared than he's letting on." She capped her pen.
"I'm going to request a formal meeting.
You, me, David, and whoever Sarah wants to bring.
I want everyone in the same room."
"She won't like that."
"No," Grace said.
"She won't.
That's rather the point." She stood and collected her portfolio.
"One more thing.
Is there anyone — a neighbor, a friend, anyone who may have witnessed the Sunday afternoon when David brought the paperwork to be signed?
Anyone who was in or near the house that day?"
I thought back.
Patricia had come over for coffee that morning but had left before David arrived.
The notary had knocked at two o'clock.
The street had been quiet.
But the woman next door — Mrs.
Adler, seventy-one, retired schoolteacher — had been pruning her roses along the shared fence line when David's car pulled in.
I remembered because I had waved to her from the driveway.
"My neighbor," I said.
"She was outside."
"Would she remember?"
"Barbara Adler remembers everything," I said.
"She taught high school English for thirty-four years.
She still grades her grandchildren's birthday cards."
May you like
Grace almost smiled.
"Get her number for me," she said.
