Chapter 3 - My Sister Knew About the CabinetI waited until the deputy stepped outside to speak with the movers.
Then I followed Chloe into the kitchen.
She stood beside the sink, gripping her phone with both hands.
“Who are the buyers?” I asked.
She pretended not to understand.
“What buyers?”
“The ones who are expecting signed papers today.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Your message was visible on the screen.”
Chloe's eyes filled with immediate irritation.
“You shouldn't be looking at people's phones.”
“You shouldn't be helping our parents steal a dead man's property.”
She flinched.
That reaction told me more than a confession would have.
For several seconds, she looked like the little girl I remembered from the few family photographs Grandpa had kept in a drawer. She had been six when my parents abandoned me, old enough to remember leaving, young enough to believe their explanation that I was going on a temporary visit.
By the time she was twelve, she had stopped asking about me.
By sixteen, she was posting photographs from vacations I had never been invited to take.
At twenty-two, she was standing in Grandpa's kitchen, apparently involved in a plan to sell his house.
“Clara,” she whispered, “you don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She glanced toward the hallway.
“Dad owes money.”
“How much?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“Try.”
“Almost four hundred thousand dollars.”
The amount hung between us.
“Who does he owe?”
Chloe shook her head.
“People he shouldn't have borrowed from.”
I studied her face.
“Are these the same people who want to buy the house?”
“I don't know.”
“You just said the buyers are here.”
“They're not buyers. They're investors.”
“What's the difference?”
She looked away.
I almost laughed.
Of course she knew the difference.
She simply hoped I would be stupid enough to accept a softer word.
“What did you sign?” I asked.
Her head snapped up.
“Nothing.”
“Chloe.”
She lowered her voice.
“I signed a preliminary agreement. It wasn't supposed to transfer anything. Dad said Grandpa had already approved the sale before he died.”
“And you believed him?”
“He's our father!”
“And Grandpa was the man who raised me.”
The words came out more sharply than I intended.
Chloe stared at me.
For a second, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she said, “He chose you.”
I didn't understand.
“What?”
“He always chose you. You got the house, his attention, his money, everything. I was his granddaughter too, but every time I visited, all he wanted to talk about was how you were doing in school or whether you'd eaten.”
I stared at her.
“You visited him four times in seventeen years.”
“That's not fair.”
“He asked you to come for Christmas. You said you were busy.”
“I was busy!”
“He was in the hospital when you turned down his call.”
Her eyes flashed.
“And you think that makes you better than me?”
“No. I think it makes you responsible for your own choices.”
She slapped the counter.
“You got everything!”
I looked around the kitchen.
The chipped tiles.
The old refrigerator.
The table Grandpa had repaired three times because replacing it would have cost more than he wanted to spend.
I remembered him sitting there after long days in the garden, rubbing his aching hands together while I finished homework.
“Do you know what I got?” I asked. “I got a grandfather who stayed.”
Chloe's mouth tightened.
I left before she could answer.
Back in the study, Rebecca was speaking quietly with Ms. Brooks. The deputy had returned, and Dad was pacing.
I showed Rebecca the message I'd photographed from Chloe's phone.
Her expression became grave.
“Do you know where the prospective buyers are?”
“No.”
“That's unfortunate.”
“Why?”
“Because the company named in this message has already contacted the trustee twice. They claim they have a valid purchase agreement.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“They don't.”
“According to our records, they don't.”
Rebecca opened her folder.
“The company is called Meridian Land Development. It has offered nearly three million dollars for the property.”
I blinked.
Three million.
Grandpa's house was old, but the land was valuable. The town had expanded over the last decade, and a new highway had made the surrounding acres attractive to developers.
“They can't buy something Dad doesn't own,” I said.
“Correct.”
“Then why does he owe them money?”
Rebecca didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she pulled out a document containing a list of bank transfers.
“Because,” she said, “we believe your father accepted an advance against a sale he had no legal authority to make.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
I thought of Chloe's message.
The buyers are here.
We need the signed papers today.
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
“They came here to force me to sign something.”
“That is our concern.”
Outside, the sound of a car door slamming interrupted us.
A man shouted toward the porch.
“Richard! We agreed to settle this today!”
Dad stopped pacing.
Mom hurried toward the front hall.
The deputy moved to block her path.
Then a stranger appeared in the doorway holding a leather folder.
He glanced around the house, saw the deputy, and swore.
“I was told the daughter had already agreed to leave.”
I stepped into the hallway.
The man looked at me.
His smile was thin and practiced.
“You must be Clara.”
I didn't answer.
He extended his hand.
“I'm Victor Shaw. Meridian Land Development. Your father assured us you would cooperate.”
I looked at the document folder beneath his arm.
Then I looked at my father.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
Victor's smile vanished.
“Perhaps we should discuss your grandfather's final wishes privately.”
“No,” I said.
His eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“You can discuss them in front of everyone.”
For the first time that morning, I heard Grandpa's voice in my memory without pain.
Let them talk.
So I stepped aside and invited Victor into the study.
And when he placed his folder on the desk, I noticed a second signature on the agreement.
A signature I recognized.
May you like
My own.
Except I had never signed that document.
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