Chapter 13 - THE FOUNDATION
My mother had created the Walker Family Foundation twelve years earlier.
I had never heard of it.
Neither had Dad.
“At first it was legitimate,” Mom explained in our living room later that night.
“How do you secretly create a legitimate family foundation?”
She flinched.
“It wasn't secret in the beginning. Your grandmother knew.”
“What was it for?”
“Scholarships.”
That surprised me.
Mom continued.
“We raised small amounts. Five thousand. Ten thousand. Your grandmother donated every year.”
“What happened?”
“After she died, we stopped operating.”
“Then why does it still exist?”
Mom stared at her hands.
“I never dissolved it.”
James leaned against the fireplace.
“And Lauren discovered it.”
Mom nodded.
“When?”
“About three years ago.”
“What did she use it for?”
“I thought nothing.”
I laughed without humor.
“You thought wrong.”
Police had already begun sorting through records from Lauren's basement.
The forged credit application used the foundation's tax identification number.
James's identity.
And my supposed authorization.
It appeared Lauren had intended to borrow $400,000 while making the debt look connected to a charitable organization.
“What was she going to do with the money?” I asked.
Mom shook her head.
“I don't know.”
My phone rang.
Dad.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
His voice sounded strange.
“At home.”
“Is your mother there?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
Dad didn't waste time.
“Lauren came here.”
Mom stood.
“What?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Is she still there?”
“No.”
“What did she want?”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“The safe.”
Mom went still.
“What safe?”
Dad said, “Apparently the one behind the painting in your closet.”
James straightened.
Mom turned pale.
“I forgot about that.”
“You forgot about a safe?”
“My mother had it installed.”
“What was in it?”
Mom whispered, “Foundation records.”
Dad continued.
“Lauren knew the combination.”
“How?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I told her years ago.”
Of course.
“Did she get anything?”
“No.”
Dad's voice hardened.
“I changed the combination after Christmas Eve.”
For the first time all day, I almost smiled.
“Good.”
“She wasn't happy.”
“What happened?”
“She screamed. Broke a lamp. Told me I destroyed her life.”
Dad paused.
“Then she said something about Sarah destroying everything by having Emma.”
My skin went cold.
“What exactly did she say?”
Dad hesitated.
“Dad.”
“She said, ‘None of this would be happening if Sarah hadn't had that baby.’”
James's entire posture changed.
I held my arms around myself.
Dad continued.
“I asked what she meant.”
“And?”
“She said Grandma had changed something before she died.”
I looked at Mom.
She looked equally confused.
“What did Grandma change?”
“I don't know.”
Uncle Robert did.
He arrived thirty minutes later carrying another envelope.
“You're going to hate me,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Join the line.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his expression became serious.
“Evelyn wrote a codicil to her will three weeks before she died.”
“What did it say?”
Robert placed the document on the coffee table.
“If either granddaughter had children, Evelyn's remaining family trust would eventually pass to the first great-grandchild.”
I blinked.
“What remaining trust?”
Robert looked at me.
“There is approximately $1.8 million left.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked toward the staircase where Emma slept.
“So Emma inherits it?”
“Not now. At twenty-five, with protections in place.”
Mom covered her mouth.
Suddenly Lauren's comment made sense.
None of this would be happening if Sarah hadn't had that baby.
James said quietly, “Did Lauren know?”
Robert nodded.
“She asked me about the trust after Emma was born.”
My heart began pounding.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“And how did she react?”
Robert stared at me.
“She asked what would happen if Emma wasn't eligible.”
I felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
“I told her the only way the inheritance would change would be if Sarah had no living descendants when the trust vested.”
Nobody moved.
James's voice went dangerously quiet.
“When did you have that conversation?”
Robert swallowed.
“Five months ago.”
Emma was six months old.
My hands went cold.
Lauren had known almost her entire life.
Before the stolen Social Security card.
Before the insurance paperwork.
Before Christmas.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text.
I opened it.
YOU THINK YOU WON?
Another arrived.
ASK JAMES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE PUSH ME TOO FAR.
Then a photograph loaded.
Our house.
Taken from across the street.
May you like
Tonight.
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