“David just told me I can’t transfer the house now.”
David exploded.
“I did not say I knew anything!”
Margaret’s voice became colder.
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
“David,” she said.
He froze.
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
He knew her.
Of course he did.
She had handled Richard’s estate.
“Before anyone says anything else,” Margaret continued, “Eleanor is represented by counsel. The documents being signed tonight relate to title protection concerning her residence.”
Jessica stepped backward.
Just one step.
Margaret continued.
“Earlier this week, a deed was submitted attempting to transfer Eleanor’s property without her authorization.”
Barbara gasped.
David stared at me.
“What?”
It was convincing.
For one beautiful second, I almost believed him.
Then Margaret said, “The deed contained Eleanor’s forged signature.”
David sat down.
Jessica did not.
She remained standing near the door.
Her face had gone strangely blank.
I watched her.
Not David.
Her.
Margaret continued.
“The transfer was directed to Willow Crest Property Holdings LLC.”
David’s head lifted sharply.
Too sharply.
There it was.
Recognition.
I whispered, “You know that name.”
“No.”
“David.”
“No.”
Jessica said, “Anybody could create some random company.”
Margaret heard her.
“Jessica?”
Jessica flinched.
“Yes?”
Margaret’s tone remained professional.
“You may want legal counsel before continuing this conversation.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would I need legal counsel?”
Margaret paused.
Then said:
“Because Willow Crest Property Holdings LLC is registered in your name.”
No one moved.
I heard the grandfather clock in the hallway.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
David slowly turned toward his wife.
“What?”
Jessica laughed.
It was a terrible laugh.
Too quick.
Too high.
“That is ridiculous.”
Margaret continued.
“The articles of organization were filed approximately seven weeks ago.”
David stood.
“You own it?”
“Of course I don’t.”
Margaret said, “The filing lists Jessica Anne Whitmore as organizer and sole managing member.”
David looked like someone had struck him.
“Jessica.”
She shook her head.
“This is obviously some kind of identity theft.”
Margaret answered, “Possibly. Which is why I advised you to obtain counsel.”
I studied Jessica.
For years I had believed her greatest weapon was arrogance.
I was wrong.
It was speed.
She could invent an explanation before most people finished asking a question.
But that evening she was running out of room.
David whispered, “Why would your name be on a company connected to Mom’s house?”
Jessica turned on him.
“You think I did this?”
“I asked a question.”
“You’re accusing me.”
“I’m asking why the hell your name is on it!”
“Lower your voice.”
“My mother’s house was transferred to your company!”
“Attempted,” Margaret corrected through the phone.
David looked sick.
Then Jessica made her mistake.
A catastrophic one.
She said, “The deed wasn’t even supposed to be recorded yet.”
The room stopped.
Jessica heard herself.
Her mouth opened.
David stared at her.
I stopped breathing.
Claire looked down at the desk.
Barbara whispered, “Oh my God.”
Jessica’s face changed from pale to gray.
Margaret said quietly through the speaker:
“Eleanor, do not let anyone leave with any documents.”
Jessica lunged for the doorway.
David grabbed her arm.
Not violently.
Desperately.
