Chapter 2 - THE RENT NOTICE SHE HID UNDER THE COUPONS
I drove back to Melissa’s house at eight the next morning.
Not alone.
Julia came because, in her words:
“I have Sunday off and poor impulse control.”
Owen stayed with her neighbor, a retired teacher he knew.
I did not want him watching us pack.
Melissa was waiting in the driveway.
Hair tied back.
Coffee in one hand.
No makeup.
I had seen that version of her hundreds of mornings.
Usually I kissed her before I took off my coat.
Today she said:
“You brought Julia.”
“Yes.”
Julia smiled.
“Good morning.”
Melissa ignored her.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Getting Owen’s things.”
“And yours?”
“Some.”
Her eyes widened.
“So you’re ending the engagement?”
“I’m getting space.”
“You took space last night.”
“One night at my sister’s is not an independent housing plan.”
Her face changed at the phrase.
Housing plan.
Small.
Fast.
I noticed.
“You called Roger?”
“No.”
Roger Bennett was the property manager.
Melissa had always said he hated paperwork.
I had met him once while fixing the back gate.
He assumed I was a contractor.
Melissa never corrected him.
“Then what ledger are you talking about?”
“The one showing where eleven months of my rent went.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“You paid your share.”
“I know what I paid.”
“Then?”
“I want to know what the house cost.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Actual rent.”
“Three thousand one hundred.”
“You’ve told me.”
“So?”
“I want the lease.”
“Nathan.”
“The lease.”
“You’re not on it.”
“I know.”
“That means it’s private.”
Julia made a sound.
Melissa glared.
I held up a hand.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“I’ll ask Roger.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“Don’t.”
There it was again.
“Why?”
“Because we’re behind.”
I stopped.
“How far?”
She looked toward the street.
“Two months.”
I laughed once.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“I’ve paid you every month.”
“I know.”
“Then how are we two months behind?”
Her voice hardened.
“Life happened.”
“That is not an accounting category.”
“You sound disgusting when you talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I stole from you.”
“I haven’t said that.”
“You’re implying it.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“I’m asking where the money went.”
She folded her arms.
“Some went to legal expenses.”
“What legal expenses?”
“Personal.”
My chest tightened.
“Personal enough to use rent?”
“I was going to replace it.”
“When?”
“After my tax refund.”
“It’s June.”
She looked away.
No tax refund.
Or already spent.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I’m not discussing this in a driveway.”
“Then inside.”
She hesitated.
Julia noticed.
“So dramatic.”
Melissa snapped.
Julia smiled.
“Funny.”
We went inside.
Chloe was with Melissa’s mother, Janice.
Good.
The house looked exactly as I had left it except my framed photograph with Owen had disappeared from the mantel.
I stopped.
“Where’s our picture?”
Melissa looked toward the shelf.
“Chloe knocked it down.”
“Broke?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“Bedroom drawer.”
Of course.
I walked upstairs.
My clothes took one duffel.
Work jackets.
Three pairs of jeans.
Boots.
A shaving kit.
Owen’s room was worse.
It had never really become his room.
Melissa called it the flex bedroom.
A guest bed.
One small dresser.
No posters because she said adhesive damaged paint.
His LEGO sets were kept in plastic bins under the bed.
Chloe’s room had her name in wooden letters over the headboard.
I had built the letters.
I packed Owen’s clothes.
Books.
Baseball glove.
The model airplane my father helped him build.
On the way downstairs, I opened the kitchen junk drawer looking for spare keys I had left there.
Coupons.
Batteries.
Takeout menus.
Then white paper.
FINAL NOTICE.
I unfolded it.
Rent:
$2,575.
Not $3,100.
Amount overdue:
$5,150 plus fees.
I stared.
Julia came behind me.
“Problem?”
I handed it over.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Interesting.”
Another notice beneath it.
Then a letter.
NOTICE OF CONDITIONAL PURCHASE OPTION DEFAULT.
I stopped.
“What is this?”
Melissa appeared in the kitchen.
Her face drained.
“Nathan.”
I read.
Tenant:
Melissa Grant.
Property:
1428 North Alder Street.
Purchase option credit accumulated:
$18,900.
Minimum monthly option contribution:
$900.
Option expiration:
September 30.
I looked up.
“You have a rent-to-own agreement.”
Melissa closed her eyes.
“Sort of.”
“What does sort of mean?”
“The owner offered me an option.”
“When?”
“Before you moved in.”
My stomach tightened.
“How does it work?”
She said nothing.
I read.
Monthly rent:
$2,575.
Of that amount, $900 would be credited toward an agreed purchase price if Melissa exercised the option.
My payments:
$1,850.
Her claimed house cost:
$3,100.
I looked at her.
“Every month I gave you almost the entire actual rent.”
“No.”
“The lease says twenty-five seventy-five.”
“There are utilities.”
“I paid utilities separately.”
“Insurance.”
“Renters insurance is thirty-seven dollars.”
Her face hardened.
“You were living here.”
“Yes.”
“You and Owen.”
“Yes.”
“So you should contribute.”
“I did.”
I held up the option letter.
“But you were using my contributions to build a purchase credit in your name.”
“That credit came from the whole household.”
“My name is nowhere.”
“We’re not married.”
“Exactly.”
She stared.
I continued:
“You told me the landlord refused to add me.”
“He did.”
“Did he?”
Silence.
I pulled out my phone.
Melissa stepped forward.
“Nathan.”
I called Roger Bennett.
He answered.
“Bennett Property.”
“Roger, it’s Nathan Brooks.”
Pause.
“The carpenter?”
I looked at Melissa.
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“What can I do?”
“I’ve been living at North Alder with Melissa.”
Another pause.
“I wasn’t aware you’d moved in permanently.”
Julia looked at me.
Melissa whispered:
“Hang up.”
I did not.
“Melissa told me you would not add me to the lease until renewal.”
Roger sounded confused.
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she ask?”
“She specifically asked that nobody else be added because she wanted the purchase option in her name only.”
The kitchen went silent.
Melissa grabbed the counter.
Roger continued:
“She said you stayed over frequently but maintained your own residence.”
I did.
Technically.
A one-bedroom apartment in University Place I had kept until five months earlier.
After that, I moved almost everything here.
“Does she owe two months?”
“Yes.”
“Have my payments been applied?”
“I don’t know anything about payments between you two.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
Melissa stared at me.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Before closing.”
“Closing what?”
“The house.”
“In your name.”
“For Chloe.”
There.
Not us.
Not our family.
Chloe.
Melissa’s eyes filled.
“I need one thing that cannot be taken away from her.”
I stared.
“And what did Owen need?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
I pointed toward the purchase agreement.
“This house was becoming hers while my money helped buy it.”
“I never said it would only be hers.”
“You put it only in your name.”
“Because I have to protect my daughter.”
I looked at her.
“The phrase you used last night.”
“What?”
“Protect my daughter.”
She had used it when I asked who protected Owen.
I picked up the late notice.
“Where did two months of rent go?”
She looked down.
“Legal fees.”
“For what?”
She said nothing.
“Melissa.”
Her face changed.
Not guilt this time.
Fear.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
I almost laughed.
“You used money I sent for housing.”
“I will repay it.”
“For what?”
She whispered:
“A custody matter.”
My stomach tightened.
“Evan?”
Her ex-husband.
Chloe’s father.
Melissa shook her head.
“No.”
I stared.
“If it isn’t your custody case, whose is it?”
Her silence answered before she did.
My blood went cold.
“Nathan.”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
She started crying.
“I was trying to help.”
I already knew the name before she said it.
“Paige.”
My ex-wife.
Owen’s mother.
The woman who had not had an overnight visit with my son in four years.
May you like
Melissa nodded.
And suddenly the rent notices were no longer the worst thing hidden in that kitchen.
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