Chapter 3: The Name on the Deed
The envelope was not sealed.
The flap had been opened and pressed back down so many times that the paper had gone soft along the crease.
My mother had read it.
She had read it more than once.
I pulled out two sheets of paper.
The first was a letter, typed and signed by a solicitor's office in Charlotte.
The second was a photocopy of a property document.
I recognized the address immediately.
It was the house I had bought with my own inheritance money at twenty-nine, the house where I had raised my children, the house where Vanessa had sl*pped me across the face four hours ago.
But the name on the deed was not mine alone.
Nathan Cole had been added as co-owner eighteen months after we purchased it.
I remembered signing something that year.
Nathan had said it was a refinancing document.
He had said the bank required both signatures for the new rate.
I had signed without reading it.
I had trusted him.
"Mom." My voice came out very flat.
"Did you know what this was when it arrived?"
"I understood enough of it." She wrapped both hands around her mug.
"The letter explains that someone contacted the solicitor's office because they believed the property transfer had been done without your full informed consent.
The solicitor was asking if you wished to pursue a review."
"Who contacted them?"
She hesitated.
"The letter doesn't say.
It only says a concerned party."
I set the papers on the table.
I looked at them the way you look at something that has been in the room the whole time, hiding in plain sight.
"He told me it was a refinancing document."
"I know."
"I signed it at the kitchen counter.
He handed me a pen.
He was already holding the page open to the signature line."
"I know, Emily."
"Why didn't you show me this three years ago?"
My mother looked at the window above the sink.
Outside, the neighbor's porch light was on.
Everything else was dark.
"Because you had Owen in your arms," she said.
"He was four months old.
You were exhausted and you were happy, or something close to it.
I told myself the timing was wrong.
Then I kept telling myself that." She turned back to me.
"I was wrong.
I am sorry."
I did not say it was all right.
It wasn't.
But I understood it, and that was enough for now.
I read the letter again, more slowly.
The solicitor's name was Patricia Hale.
The firm was Hale and Drummond, Charlotte.
The letter was dated three years ago, almost to the week.
I folded it back into the envelope and set it beside my tea.
"I need to call someone in the morning," I said.
"A lawyer?"
"Yes."
My mother nodded.
She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
I looked toward the hallway.
Through the open door I could see the edge of the guest bed where Lily and Owen were sleeping, Lily curled on her side, Owen flat on his back the way he always slept, one arm thrown wide.
"He's going to fight this," I said.
"Nathan.
He's going to say I knew what I was signing."
"Let him say it."
"His mother will back him.
Vanessa will back him."
"Let them."
"Mom.
The house is worth four hundred thousand dollars."
"I know what the house is worth." Her hand tightened over mine.
"And I know what you are worth.
Those are not the same number."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then my phone lit up on the table between us.
Nathan.
Calling.
I watched it ring.
Four times.
Five.
Then it stopped.
Three seconds later it started again.
My mother looked at it.
Then at me.
"Not tonight," I said.
I turned the phone face-down.
But before the screen went dark, I saw the notification beneath his name.
A text message, already visible in the preview.
*You need to come home.
There are things you don't know about that house.
Things that will not go well for you if this goes to court.*
I picked the phone back up and read it twice.
Then I set it down again, screen facing up this time, so I wouldn't miss anything else he sent.
May you like
Because Nathan had just made a very significant mistake.
He had told me there was something to find.
