Chapter 5 - The Knock at Seven AM
The demand letter was delivered by a certified courier to my parents' home at three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon.
I know because my father called me at 3:17.
I was sitting in the car line outside Theo’s elementary school, watching the kids spill out of the double doors with their backpacks bobbing like corks in water.
"Kendra," Dad said. He sounded breathless, his voice thin and papery. "What is this?"
"What is what, Dad?"
"A courier just came to the door with a legal packet from Greg’s firm," he said. In the background, I could hear Mom screaming—not crying, but screaming with the full-throated rage of an animal caught in a snare. "It says... it says your mother committed grand theft? It says there's an affidavit for identity theft?"
"Did you read the attachments, Dad?"
"I'm looking at them right now," he said. He sounded bewildered, like a man who had walked into his own living room and found the floor missing. "This is... this is from Theo's church fundraiser. Kendra, Evelyn told me that money was spent on the hospital's administrative balance."
"The hospital never saw a dime of that twenty-four thousand, Dad," I said, keeping my voice level, though my heart was pounding against my ribs. "Theo's balance was seventy-eight thousand dollars. Aaron and I paid thirty thousand out of pocket, and the rest was written off under the charity care program because Aaron took a third job at the warehouse to keep us from bankruptcy. Mom kept the church money."
"She said..." Dad’s voice broke. He stopped. "She told me the lake trailer was bought with the insurance settlement from Aunt Mae’s passing."
"Aunt Mae died with four hundred dollars in a checking account and twelve thousand dollars in credit card debt, Dad. You know that. You signed the probate papers."
Silence fell over the line, heavy and suffocating.
Then, in the background, the bedroom door must have slammed open, because Evelyn’s voice came screeching through the receiver with enough volume to distort the tiny speaker.
"GIVE ME THAT PHONE, RICHARD!"
"Get away from me, Evelyn," Dad said. It was the first time in my thirty-two years of life that I had ever heard my father speak to my mother with disgust.
"GIVE ME THE PHONE!"
There was a scuffle, the dull thud of plastic dropping onto carpet, and then Mom’s voice was right in my ear, panting, wild, completely untethered from the sweet-talking church matriarch she pretended to be.
"You spiteful little bitch," she spat. "You think you’re smart? You think some little two-bit lawyer cousin can shake me down in my own house?"
"I don't think he can shake you down, Evelyn," I said, watching Theo skip through the schoolyard with his blue astronaut lunchbox bouncing against his hip. "I know he can. You have until Friday at nine AM to put twenty-five thousand dollars into Greg’s escrow account. If it's not there, the paperwork goes to the Marion County prosecutor."
"I am your MOTHER!" she screamed. "I raised you! I put clothes on your back! I sacrificed everything for you and your sister, and you’re going to put me in prison over church money that wouldn't have even existed if I hadn't spent three weeks organizing that stupid raffle?"
"You didn't organize it for Theo," I said, and the truth of it felt as clear and sharp as a diamond. "You organized it for yourself. Just like you organized Theo's birthday for Mallory."
"You won't get a cent," she snarled. "The lake lot is in my name. The trailer is in my name. You think a judge is going to take a grandmother's home because she handled some church money five years ago? I'll tell them you authorized it! I'll tell them you told me to hold it for his secondary expenses!"
"Your signature is on the disbursement line with my name, Evelyn. Sarah Lin has the surveillance footage from the bank lobby where you cashed the check alone. You can explain that to twelve people in a jury box."
"If you do this," she whispered, her voice dropping into a hiss that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, "you are dead to this family. You will never set foot in this town again. I will tell Mallory. I will tell the pastor. I will tell everyone what kind of monster you are."
"You already told Facebook," I said. "And nobody there seems to care about the truth anyway. Friday morning, Evelyn. Nine AM."
I hung up, opened the passenger door, and smiled as Theo hopped inside.
"Hey, Commander," I said, leaning over to buckle his seatbelt. "How was the mission today?"
"Great," he beamed, holding up a piece of construction paper covered in gold glitter. "We drew pictures of our families. I drew you and Dad and our rocket cake."
"Did you draw Grandma?"
Theo looked out the window, his little brow furrowing. "No. Grandma's house is too loud. And she always takes my chair."
May you like
I reached out and smoothed his hair down. "You don't ever have to give up your chair again, Theo. I promise."
***