Chapter 4 - The Second House
The Fort Lauderdale house had four bedrooms, a pool, and a deed in Chloe's name.
Celia confirmed it within an hour.
The purchase price was six hundred and twelve thousand dollars.
Chloe had bought it fourteen months earlier through a limited liability company called Blue Heron Residential.
I had never heard of Blue Heron Residential.
Neither, according to Celia, had Austin.
At least that was what he claimed when she called him.
"He says Chloe told him the property belonged to one of her mother's clients," Celia said.
I was sitting near a window in the ship's library with a cup of coffee I had forgotten to drink.
"And he believed her?"
"He says he did."
"Do you believe him?"
"I believe documents."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the safest answer I have."
I watched a couple at the next table play cards.
They were arguing over whose turn it was with the comfortable ease of people who expected to argue together for many more years.
I looked away.
"Was our loan money used to buy the house?"
"Partly."
"How much?"
"The twenty-seven thousand transferred to Chloe and Lorraine appears to have been used for closing costs."
"Appears?"
"The timing and account movement line up."
"What about the rest?"
"That's where it gets complicated."
"Of course it does."
Celia sent me a spreadsheet.
I opened it on my tablet.
Money had moved through four accounts over nine days.
Austin's credit line.
A joint account.
Lorraine's account.
Blue Heron Residential.
Then a mortgage lender.
The numbers made my head ache.
"Explain it like I'm five."
"Money from the loan against your house helped Chloe buy a different house."
"Better."
"But the majority of the purchase money came from somewhere else."
"Where?"
"A business line of credit tied to a company called Bennett Home Solutions."
I recognized that one.
Austin had started Bennett Home Solutions three years earlier to manage renovation projects.
He called himself a consultant.
I had never been clear about what that meant.
"Austin's company."
"Yes."
"He says he knew nothing about the house?"
"That is what he told me."
I laughed once.
"Then either my son is lying or he is the worst businessman in Florida."
"Those options are not mutually exclusive."
I smiled despite myself.
Then Celia's voice became serious.
"Theresa, there is a larger problem."
"What now?"
"Bennett Home Solutions did not qualify for that line of credit on its own."
I waited.
"The application included a guarantor."
"Who?"
"Ernest."
The library seemed to tilt.
"No."
"His name is on the guarantee."
"His actual signature?"
"We don't know yet."
"Austin said Dad wasn't thinking clearly, but apparently he was clear enough to guarantee half a million dollars?"
"That's one of the contradictions we will be addressing."
"When was it signed?"
"Eleven months ago."
I counted backward automatically.
Ernest had been undergoing chemotherapy then.
He was exhausted but mentally sharp.
He had also been angry with Austin for reasons he would not explain.
I remembered one evening in particular.
Austin had arrived with takeout food and left forty minutes later without eating.
After the door closed, Ernest sat at the kitchen table staring at nothing.
"What happened?" I had asked.
"He asked me for something I said no to."
"Money?"
"Something like that."
I had kissed the top of his head and gone upstairs to start his bath.
Something like that.
I wanted to go back and shake myself.
"Celia, can we prove whether Ernest signed the guarantee?"
"The USB may help."
"Has the forensic copy been made?"
"Yes."
I gripped the tablet.
"And?"
"There are audio files."
My skin prickled.
"Recorded conversations?"
"Several."
"Between Ernest and Austin?"
"At least two."
"Is that legal?"
"Florida is generally a two-party consent state for private oral communications, so admissibility may be complicated depending on the circumstances."
"Can we listen to them?"
"Yes."
"Then play one."
"Theresa—"
"Please."
Celia hesitated.
Then I heard a click.
Static filled the line.
A chair scraped.
And then my husband's voice came through the speaker.
Thin.
Tired.
Unmistakable.
"You already asked me."
Austin answered.
"I'm asking again because you didn't understand the structure."
I pressed my hand against my chest.
Ernest said, "I understand debt."
"It's not debt like that."
"If I am responsible when you don't pay, it is debt like that."
Austin sighed.
"You always do this."
"Do what?"
"Make me feel like I'm twelve."
"No, Austin."
There was a pause.
"You feel twelve because you are asking your sick father to guarantee money for a company that cannot qualify without him."
My eyes filled.
Austin lowered his voice.
"It's temporary."
"No."
"Dad."
"No."
"You haven't even looked at the projections."
"I looked at the last set."
"Those changed."
"Then you should not need me."
Another silence.
Austin spoke again.
"Chloe already put money in."
Ernest responded immediately.
"Then Chloe made her own choice."
"If this falls apart, Emma gets hurt."
I shut my eyes.
Even then, he had used his daughter.
Ernest's voice hardened.
"Do not put that child between you and my answer."
Austin breathed heavily.
"Fine."
A chair moved.
Then he said, "You'll regret this when we're successful without you."
Ernest replied, "I hope I do."
The recording ended.
I sat frozen.
Celia did not speak.
Neither did I.
The couple at the next table laughed quietly over their cards.
Somewhere beyond the library, a piano started playing.
I had never hated cheerful music before.
"He said no," I whispered.
"Yes."
"Clearly."
"Very clearly."
"Then the guarantee is fake."
"It strongly suggests he did not knowingly agree to it."
"Strongly suggests?"
"I know you hate that phrasing."
"I do."
"We still need the original documents, not just copies."
"Where are they?"
"The lender should have them."
"Should?"
"The application was electronic."
I rubbed my forehead.
"What else is on the USB?"
"Photographs."
"Of what?"
"Documents on a desk."
"Whose desk?"
"I think Austin's."
"How did Ernest get them?"
"No idea."
"What documents?"
"Draft beneficiary forms."
My stomach tightened.
"For what?"
"Life insurance."
I stopped breathing.
Ernest had a life-insurance policy worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I was the beneficiary.
We had paid the premiums for thirty years.
"What kind of draft?"
"A change-of-beneficiary form."
"Changing it from me?"
"Yes."
"To Austin?"
"No."
I heard my own voice sharpen.
"Who?"
Celia paused.
"Blue Heron Residential."
I stared at the tablet screen.
"A company cannot just become a beneficiary without Ernest signing."
"Correct."
"Did he?"
"The insurer rejected the request."
"Why?"
"Signature mismatch."
Cold spread through me.
"When was the request submitted?"
Celia told me.
Four days before Ernest entered hospice.
I pushed away from the table.
"Who submitted it?"
"The online account was accessed from an IP address registered to Bennett Home Solutions."
"Austin."
"Possibly."
"Stop saying possibly."
"I will stop when the evidence lets me."
I stood beside the library window.
White water trailed behind the ship.
"Does Austin know we found this?"
"No."
"Good."
"Theresa, you are not running an interrogation."
"I'm his mother."
"Exactly."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he knows how to make you feel responsible for his fear."
I said nothing.
Celia continued.
"He has been doing it for years."
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I remembered every emergency loan.
Every late-night call.
Every promise that this would be the last time.
"What do I do?"
"Nothing today."
"I hate that."
"I know."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting the lender records."
"And the deed records for the Fort Lauderdale house."
"Already requested."
"And Chloe's envelope?"
"Still sealed."
I turned from the window.
"Why?"
"Because Ernest wrote instructions on the back."
"What instructions?"
"Do not open unless Chloe denies knowing about the second house."
My whole body went still.
"She told me to ask Austin whose name was on the deed."
"Which means she has not denied it."
"Not yet."
"Correct."
"Ernest planned for their lies."
"It looks that way."
I sat down again.
"That is a horrible sentence."
"Yes."
My phone lit up.
Austin again.
This time the message was different.
Mom, please call me alone.
No lawyers.
No Chloe.
Just us.
Then another.
I need to tell you what she did.
I looked at Celia's name on my call screen.
"He wants to blame Chloe."
"Maybe he wants to tell the truth."
"Do you believe that?"
"I believe pressure changes people."
"Into honest people?"
"Sometimes."
"And sometimes?"
"Into better liars."
Before I could answer, Austin sent a final message.
May you like
Dad knew Chloe forged the guarantee.
And he knew I helped her.
