Chapter 13 - UNDER OATH
The courtroom was smaller than television makes courtrooms look.
That made everything more uncomfortable.
There was nowhere for anyone to hide inside distance.
Jenna sat at the respondent's table without a lawyer.
She wore a navy dress and no jewelry except her wedding ring.
Mark sat behind her with his new criminal attorney.
His attorney had advised him not to participate in the civil hearing beyond what was required.
My parents sat on the opposite side of the gallery.
They did not sit together.
My father took the aisle.
My mother sat three seats away near the wall.
I sat beside Camille.
Ava was behind us.
Priya had been subpoenaed as a records witness but waited outside until called.
The judge entered at 9:03.
Judge Elena Marquez looked at the case file for less than a minute before raising her eyes.
"I have received a withdrawal notice from plaintiff's former counsel and a declaration concerning potentially fraudulent evidence."
Jenna stood.
"Your Honor, my lawyer quit because my brother intimidated him."
Camille did not move.
Judge Marquez looked at Jenna.
"Did your former counsel tell you that?"
Jenna hesitated.
"Not exactly."
"Then do not characterize his motives."
Jenna sat.
The first issue was the lis pendens.
Camille argued that Jenna's property claim rested on a forged agreement and a transfer of thirty-eight thousand dollars that I neither requested nor accepted as an equity contribution.
She showed my purchase records.
She showed the deed.
She showed the absence of any co-ownership agreement.
Then she showed my surgery logs from December twenty-sixth.
Judge Marquez studied the timestamps.
"Mr. Mercer was in an operating room in Los Angeles from 6:11 a.m. until 4:37 p.m.?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"And the plaintiff's declaration states he signed this document in Pasadena after lunch?"
"Correct."
The judge looked at Jenna.
"Ms. Halpern, did you personally see your brother sign this agreement?"
Jenna stood slowly.
"I remember him being there."
My stomach turned.
The judge's eyes narrowed.
"That was not my question."
"I believe I did."
"You believe you saw him sign?"
"Yes."
Judge Marquez looked at Camille.
"Call your witness."
Camille called my mother first.
My mother walked to the witness stand like each step cost her something.
She swore to tell the truth.
Then Camille asked one question.
"Mrs. Mercer, did you see your son sign the Family Coastal Property Agreement on December twenty-sixth?"
My mother looked at Jenna.
Jenna stared back at her.
My father's jaw tightened.
My mother gripped the edge of the witness box.
"No."
The word barely carried.
Camille waited.
"Please speak clearly for the record."
My mother's voice broke.
"No."
Jenna's face went white.
Camille continued.
"Did you sign as a witness anyway?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
My mother started crying.
"Because my husband said Daryl had agreed in principle."
"Did you know whether that was true?"
"No."
"Did your daughter tell you that Mr. Mercer had signed?"
"Yes."
"Was that true?"
"No."
Jenna stood.
"Mom!"
Judge Marquez's gavel struck once.
"Sit down."
Jenna obeyed.
My mother wiped her face.
Camille placed the bank transfer record on the screen.
"Did you transfer thirty-eight thousand dollars into your son's renovation account two years ago?"
"Yes."
"Did he ask you to?"
"No."
"Did he agree that the money purchased an interest for Jenna?"
"No."
"Why did you write the memo For Jenna's future beach share?"
My mother looked down.
"Because Jenna asked me to."
A sound moved through the courtroom.
Not a gasp.
Just the subtle shift of people realizing the shape of a story.
Camille stopped.
"No further questions."
Jenna was allowed to question her.
She walked to the podium.
Her hands trembled.
"Mom, didn't you always say the cottage should be for all of us?"
My mother looked miserable.
"Yes."
Jenna seized on it.
"And didn't Daryl say family could use it?"
"Yes."
"Didn't he let you stay there?"
"Yes."
"Didn't he let my family stay there before?"
"For weekends."
"So this wasn't some random idea."
Camille stood.
"Objection. Argumentative."
"Sustained."
Jenna's voice rose.
"Mom, did you believe I deserved a share?"
My mother closed her eyes.
"I believed I should help you."
"That isn't what I asked."
"I know."
Jenna stared at her.
"Answer me."
My mother opened her eyes.
"No child deserves another child's property because the parents feel guilty."
The courtroom went silent.
Jenna recoiled as if she had been slapped.
So did my father.
I did not move.
My mother had finally said aloud what none of us had named.
Guilt.
Not fairness.
Not family.
Guilt.
Jenna's entire claim had been fed by my parents' fear that helping one child succeed meant they owed the other equal results.
"No further questions," Jenna whispered.
My father testified next.
He was more defensive.
He admitted signing as a witness without seeing me sign.
He admitted taking the document to Leonard.
He admitted telling Leonard I had already agreed.
But he insisted he believed he was formalizing my intent.
Camille played the January recording.
My father's own voice filled the courtroom.
He trusts systems.
So we make it look like a system.
His face collapsed inward.
Judge Marquez watched him carefully.
"Mr. Mercer, what system did you intend to make this look like?"
My father swallowed.
"A valid agreement."
"Was it valid?"
He stared at his hands.
"No."
"Did your son sign it?"
"No."
The word sounded like surrender.
Jenna lowered her head.
Mark did not look at anyone.
By 11:20, Judge Marquez had heard enough for the emergency issue.
She ordered the lis pendens expunged subject to a short stay for procedural review.
She barred Jenna and anyone acting on her behalf from filing additional instruments against the cottage without court permission.
She ordered preservation of all relevant devices and accounts.
She referred the authenticity issues to the appropriate law-enforcement agencies.
And she warned Jenna directly.
"You are now on notice that serious evidence challenges the documents underlying your claim."
Jenna stood.
Her face was pale.
"Your Honor, my brother is trying to destroy my family."
Judge Marquez's expression did not change.
"This court is deciding property rights, not sibling affection."
Jenna's mouth closed.
The hearing ended.
Outside the courtroom, she caught my arm.
I pulled free immediately.
"Don't touch me."
"You happy now?"
"No."
"Mom humiliated me in there."
"She told the truth."
"Because you threatened her."
My mother came through the doors behind us.
"He did not."
Jenna turned.
"Stay out of this."
My mother stopped.
For the first time in my life, Jenna spoke to her like someone whose usefulness had expired.
"You chose him."
My mother shook her head.
"I chose not to lie again."
"Same thing."
"No."
Jenna laughed bitterly.
"You always loved his achievements more."
My mother flinched.
"I spent my whole life trying to prove I loved you enough."
"Then prove it now."
"How?"
"Tell them the house was mine too."
My mother stared at her.
"But it wasn't."
That was the moment Jenna lost her.
Not completely.
Not emotionally.
But as a tool.
Jenna's expression became cold.
"Then don't call me when Dad leaves you."
My father was standing ten feet away.
He heard every word.
My mother looked at him.
He looked at Jenna.
Then at the floor.
He did not defend his wife.
He did not defend his daughter.
He simply walked toward the elevator.
The old family system was collapsing, but nobody knew what to build in its place.
Camille touched my shoulder.
"We need to go."
"Where?"
"The cottage."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"The court order gives you uncontested access for inventory."
"Today?"
"Before anyone destroys evidence."
A deputy met us there.
Ava came with a photographer.
A locksmith opened the door after documenting the old keypad.
The moment the door swung inward, I smelled water.
Not ocean air.
Wet drywall.
Wet wood.
Something sour and heavy.
I stepped inside.
The white sofa was gone.
The rug was rolled against the wall.
The floor beneath it had buckled.
Water stains spread from the hallway toward the living room.
Ava whispered, "Oh no."
I walked toward the guest bathroom.
The tub faucet was running.
Not fast.
A thin steady stream.
The drain had been plugged with a washcloth.
Water had overflowed across the tile and under the walls.
The deputy photographed everything.
Camille said nothing.
I turned off the faucet.
Then I saw the writing on the mirror.
It had been drawn with Jenna's red lipstick.
YOU WANTED YOUR HOUSE.
The deputy looked at me.
"Do not touch that."
I stared at the words.
Then I heard a small sound from the living room.
Ava had moved a cushion.
Under it was Eli's notebook.
Summer at the Beach House.
The cover was wet.
Several pages had been torn out.
I opened it carefully.
His list was still there.
Learn to surf.
Sleep on the porch.
See the stars with Dad.
May you like
Across the bottom, someone had written one additional line in red ink.
NOT THIS SUMMER.
