Chapter 6: The Morning Brittany Came Back
She came to the house at eight-fifteen the next morning.
I was in the kitchen when I heard the car, and I knew the sound of that engine the way you know sounds that have been in your life long enough to mean something.
I poured my second cup of coffee and I did not go to the door.
She knocked three times.
Then she let herself in with the key Marcus had given her two years ago.
She stood in the kitchen doorway in a cream blouse and her good earrings, and she had done her hair, and she looked composed in the way people look composed when they have rehearsed it.
"Dorothy," she said.
"I think we should talk."
"Close the door," I said.
"It's cold."
She closed it.
She did not sit down.
She stayed near the door the way people stay near exits when they are not sure of their welcome.
"I want to explain what happened," she said.
"All right."
"The transfer was meant to protect the property.
Marcus has business debts.
If a creditor ever came after his assets, this house could have been seized.
I was trying to make sure you could stay here."
I drank my coffee.
"Whose name did the transfer put the house in?"
A pause.
"A holding company."
"And who controls the holding company?"
Longer pause.
"It's complicated."
"Brittany." I set my cup down.
"I have been listening to people explain complicated things to me for seventy years.
What I have found is that when something is genuinely complicated, the person explaining it can usually still answer a direct question.
When they cannot answer a direct question, the thing is not complicated.
It is hidden."
Her composure slipped one centimeter.
"I am trying to protect my family."
"This is my house," I said.
"My husband poured the foundation of this house with his own hands.
He worked seven days a week for three years to pay off the mortgage before he turned forty-five because he wanted to hand it to me free and clear.
He died in the bedroom down the hall.
And eleven months ago, without my knowledge or my consent, you moved it into a company I have never heard of using a signature that does not belong to you." I picked my coffee back up.
"There is no version of that which is protection."
Her chin came up.
"I could make this very difficult for Marcus."
There it was.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means that if this becomes a legal matter, I will have to tell the truth about what Marcus did and didn't know.
And the truth is complicated.
A jury might find it hard to separate his involvement from mine."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"You would do that to your husband."
"I am trying to avoid it."
"By asking me to do what?
Let you keep my house?"
She did not answer.
My phone was on the counter.
I turned it over and showed her the screen.
The call timer was running.
It had been running for four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.
"I called Marcus before you knocked," I said.
"He's been listening."
The composure did not slip this time.
It fell.
"He heard everything you just said about making it difficult for him," I said.
"So did Walter Osei, who is on a three-way call.
Walter is a retired attorney, which I probably should have mentioned earlier."
Brittany's hand found the door handle behind her.
"The key," I said.
"Please leave it on the counter."
Her hand shook as she set it down.
She walked out without another word, and the door closed behind her, and I picked up my phone.
"Marcus," I said.
"I heard," he said.
His voice was very quiet.
"Mama, I'm sorry."
"I know you are, baby."
"What do we do now?"
May you like
I looked at the key on my counter.
"Now we call a real lawyer."
