Chapter 7 - THE MEETING SHE HID
Melissa came to Rebecca’s house twenty minutes after my mother’s call.
She looked angry.
Not at me.
At herself.
“You met with my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Five months ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You were a minor. She was the acting trustee. She came to me seeking legal advice.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“About stealing from Nora?”
Melissa looked at her.
“About resigning.”
That changed the room.
I sat down.
“What?”
Melissa placed her leather bag on the table.
“In March, Diane called me after years of avoiding my letters. She said she needed to discuss irregular trust distributions.”
“How irregular?”
“She admitted some were improper.”
“Did she tell you Raymond was beating me?”
“No.”
The answer came fast.
That mattered.
“If she had, I would have reported it.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That Raymond had become controlling, that he was pressuring her to continue making distributions, and that she was afraid of what would happen when you turned eighteen and demanded an accounting.”
“So she knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you about guardianship?”
“Not at the first meeting.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently she was saving that for the psychologist.”
Melissa accepted that.
“She came back twice. The second time she brought records.”
“What records?”
“Bank statements. Copies of invoices. A partial ledger.”
“The binder.”
“Probably.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That she needed independent counsel because she had personal exposure. I also told her I could help protect the trust assets.”
“Did she agree?”
Melissa opened her bag.
“She signed a resignation.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“As trustee.”
“When?”
“March twenty-first.”
“Then why is she still trustee?”
“Because she insisted the resignation become effective on your eighteenth birthday.”
“Why?”
“She said she needed time.”
“For what?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn’t make sense to me either.”
Melissa looked at me.
“Under your father’s trust, when you turn eighteen, you gain the right to nominate an independent successor trustee if Diane resigns or is removed. She signed the paperwork that would allow that transition.”
“So she was going to give it up.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the guardianship?”
“That appeared later.”
My anger shifted shape.
It did not disappear.
If anything, it became worse.
My mother had taken a step toward fixing the financial betrayal.
Then she had turned around and tried to have me declared incompetent.
“Did you know about Northgate?”
“No.”
“Did you know Raymond was hurting me?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was lying to me?”
Melissa looked down.
“I knew she was withholding information.”
I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, two boys rode bikes down Rebecca’s street.
One of them shouted something about beating the other one home.
I flinched before I could stop myself.
Rebecca noticed.
She said nothing.
Melissa continued.
“At the third meeting, your mother brought me something else.”
“What?”
“A handwritten list of distributions she believed Raymond had pressured her to approve.”
“How much?”
“About three hundred thousand dollars.”
“That still leaves another three hundred thousand.”
“Yes.”
“Where did that go?”
“She claimed she didn’t know.”
I turned around.
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she was afraid.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Melissa met my eyes.
“No. I didn’t believe she was telling me everything.”
My phone rang.
My mother again.
I almost rejected it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
“I need you to listen before you say anything.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“You met with Melissa and never told her Raymond hit me.”
“I know.”
“You tried to get me declared incompetent.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were completely trapped when you were making legal plans behind his back.”
“I know.”
That phrase again.
I know.
My mother had known too much for too long.
“Why should I listen?”
“Because there’s an email account Raymond doesn’t know about.”
Melissa stood.
My mother continued.
“I created it after I met with Melissa. I saved copies of messages and documents there.”
“Why didn’t you give it to police?”
“I will.”
“Then give them the password.”
“I already did.”
That surprised me.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“What’s in it?”
My mother took a breath.
“The reason I stopped the resignation.”
I closed my eyes.
“What happened?”
“Raymond found out I had seen a lawyer.”
“How?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I printed something at home.”
I heard traffic through her phone.
She was driving.
“You should not be calling me while you’re driving.”
“I pulled over.”
“Fine. What did he find?”
“The draft accounting.”
“And?”
“He told me if I resigned before your birthday, he would send the original false records to the police and tell them every transfer was my idea.”
“You did make the first one.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t explain why you let him hit me.”
Her voice broke.
“No.”
“Then stop using money as the answer.”
Silence.
I waited.
Finally she whispered, “Read the email dated March fourteenth.”
“What’s in it?”
“You’ll understand why I was afraid.”
The line went dead.
Detective Pike called ten minutes later.
He had accessed the account.
“There are hundreds of messages,” he said.
“Find March fourteenth.”
“I already did.”
“What does it say?”
He hesitated.
“It isn’t from Raymond.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who is it from?”
“It’s from your mother.”
“To who?”
“To Raymond.”
“What does she say?”
May you like
Pike was quiet long enough that I knew I would remember the next sentence forever.
“She asks him how they can keep you from taking control of the trust if you start asking questions.”
