Chapter 11 - The Man Who Was There
I confronted Dad in Daniel's conference room.
I didn't shout.
I placed the journal copy in front of him and waited.
He examined the entry.
His shoulders collapsed.
"I thought I was witnessing a routine transfer."
"You watched Hazel pretend to be me."
"Maria told me the title company needed Hazel there because you couldn't get away from work."
"That makes no sense."
"I know."
"Did you know back then?"
He stared at the table.
"I knew something was wrong."
There it was.
Not confusion.
Not forgetfulness.
A choice.
He admitted he had signed an accompanying trustee certificate without calling me.
He claimed he'd believed Maria when she said the trust transfer had my approval.
But he'd noticed Hazel using my identification documents.
He'd asked one question and accepted one answer.
Then he'd gone home and continued his life.
I thought of all the nights I spent wondering what was wrong with me.
All the times I'd apologized first because I couldn't stand another argument.
My father had shown more loyalty to a convenient lie than to his own daughter.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked.
"Because I lost everything."
He looked horrified as soon as the words escaped.
I nodded slowly.
"At least that's the truth."
June took my hand beneath the table.
Dad began apologizing, but I couldn't listen.
I walked outside into the bright Texas afternoon and stood beside my car until the shaking passed.
When I came back, Daniel had prepared questions for Dad's independent attorney to address.
The potential legal exposure was serious.
Dad had participated in a closing he should have questioned.
He could not simply declare himself an innocent victim.
He asked me whether I'd testify that he had always loved me.
I looked him in the eyes.
"I can tell the truth about what I saw."
His face fell.
That night a package arrived at my apartment.
Inside was a photograph of my mother in her hospital bed.
Across it, someone had written in red marker:
May you like
SHE WASN'T THE SAINT YOU THINK.
