Chapter 7 - The Agreement
They didn't just want me to babysit. They wanted me responsible.
Jason sent me the document.
I opened it immediately.
The first page looked harmless.
Temporary childcare agreement.
Christmas dates.
Emergency medical consent.
Pickup authorization.
Food allergies.
Medication instructions.
Normal things.
Then I reached page four.
Caregiver assumes responsibility for children during designated period.
Page five.
Parents may travel outside the state while children remain in caregiver's care.
Page six.
Caregiver agrees to provide transportation, lodging, meals, supervision, and emergency medical decisions.
I stopped reading.
This wasn't babysitting.
This was a transfer of responsibility.
And my forged signature appeared on the last page.
I called Jason.
“Did you know this existed?”
“No.”
“Did Mom show you anything?”
“She showed me the first page.”
“The first page doesn't matter.”
“I see that now.”
I scrolled further.
There was a section about property.
I read it twice.
Caregiver shall provide suitable lodging.
That made sense.
Until the next sentence.
Caregiver's residential address shall serve as designated family lodging during the childcare period.
My apartment.
There it was.
The real reason.
They hadn't just planned for me to watch the kids.
They had designated my apartment as their Christmas base.
I felt something inside me snap.
“Jason.”
“Yes?”
“Where were you planning to stay after the cabin?”
Silence.
“What?”
“The agreement says my apartment would be family lodging.”
He sounded confused.
“We were going to the cabin.”
“Then why would my apartment be listed?”
“I don't know.”
“Ask Mom.”
“I will.”
I hung up.
Then I called Mark.
He answered.
“Riley.”
“Did you see the custodial agreement?”
“No.”
“I need you to answer one question.”
“What?”
“Is there a legal reason someone would create this?”
“Yes.”
“What reason?”
“Liability.”
“Whose liability?”
“The parents'.”
I stared at the document.
“So if anything happened to the kids…”
“The caregiver could become responsible.”
I swallowed.
“And if I never agreed?”
“Then you have a problem with the validity of the document.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Potentially serious.”
The word echoed in my head.
Serious.
I didn't want a family dispute.
I didn't want a court.
I didn't want police.
I wanted to write website copy, pay my taxes, drink bad hotel coffee and return home after Christmas without feeling like I needed a lawyer to prove I was allowed to exist.
Then my email pinged.
An automated notification.
My bank.
A large transfer request had been initiated.
From my account.
To an account I didn't recognize.
I nearly dropped my phone.
I opened it.
Transfer amount:
$38,500.
Status:
Pending verification.
I called the bank.
“Was this initiated by me?”
The representative checked.
“No.”
“Who initiated it?”
“I can't disclose that until we complete identity verification.”
“This is fraud.”
“We can freeze the transfer.”
“Do it.”
“We'll also need to flag your account.”
I confirmed everything.
Afterward, I sat on the floor.
My mother had access to enough of my information to create documents, impersonate my signature, and apparently attempt financial activity.
I called Dad.
He didn't answer.
I called Mom.
Nothing.
I called Jason.
He answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to transfer thirty-eight thousand five hundred dollars from my account.”
Silence.
Then Jason said, “Jesus.”
“Do you know where that money was going?”
“No.”
“I think you do.”
“I don't.”
I heard something in his voice.
Fear.
“Jason.”
“What?”
“Does Mom owe money to someone?”
Silence.
“How much?”
He breathed out.
“I don't know.”
“Jason.”
“I'm serious. I don't know.”
“Then find out.”
He was quiet.
Finally he said, “Riley, I think Dad has been covering her debts.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Why would he need to?”
“Because Mom signed something against a property.”
“What property?”
My stomach tightened.
There was only one property in this conversation that mattered.
Mine.
“What did she sign?”
Jason didn't answer.
“Jason.”
May you like
Finally he whispered:
“Something that may have involved your rental property.”
