Chapter 8 - A Mother's Name on the Wrong Page
Rebecca arranged for a property attorney named Samuel Price to review the recorded documents.
Samuel was a quiet man with silver hair and a habit of reading every page twice.
By Tuesday afternoon, he had found something.
Not a transfer of ownership.
The deed remained in my name.
But a memorandum had been recorded against my property.
It referred to a proposed access agreement.
The document named Miller Family Properties as the prospective party granting access.
I stared at the copy Samuel placed in front of me.
“I never authorized this.”
Samuel nodded.
“I understand.”
“Then why is it recorded?”
“That's what we're investigating.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Is it valid?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Recording a document doesn't automatically make the underlying claim enforceable.”
He tapped the page.
“This memorandum doesn't establish that Margaret transferred ownership.”
“But it could create confusion about the property's status.”
“Exactly.”
I studied the signature block.
A name appeared beneath the words Authorized Representative.
Daniel Miller.
My son stared at it.
“That isn't my signature.”
Samuel looked at him.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Daniel pulled out his driver's license.
“Look.”
The difference was obvious to me.
The signature on the memorandum was neat and rounded.
Daniel's actual signature was hurried and angular.
Samuel didn't immediately declare it a forgery.
Instead, he made a note.
“We'll preserve the document and determine its source.”
Daniel looked as though he'd been struck.
“Someone signed my name?”
“Someone appears to have used your name,” Samuel said.
“We need more evidence before identifying who or how.”
I looked at the date.
The memorandum had been recorded five weeks earlier.
Three weeks before Daniel signed the preliminary financing packet.
I felt the pieces shifting into place.
“Samuel, what happens if the development company told a lender it had access rights it didn't actually have?”
He considered the question.
“That could become a serious issue, depending on the exact representations and whether anyone relied on them.”
“Could they lose the financing?”
“Potentially.”
Daniel looked at me.
“So this might explain why Robert was so angry when I canceled the wedding.”
Rebecca, who had joined the meeting, leaned forward.
“Possibly, but don't confuse the timing with proof of motive.”
She looked at Daniel.
“Your canceled wedding may be connected to the documents, or the two matters may simply have collided.”
I appreciated her caution.
It was tempting to believe every unanswered question had one convenient answer.
But I didn't want to become the kind of person who turned suspicion into certainty just because it felt satisfying.
Samuel closed the folder.
“We'll request the supporting records from the recording office and contact the parties involved through counsel.”
Daniel nodded.
“And what should I do?”
“Preserve all your emails and messages.”
“Don't delete conversations.”
“Don't alter documents.”
“And don't try to investigate by accessing anyone else's accounts.”
Daniel let out a breath.
“Understood.”
We were preparing to leave when Rebecca's assistant knocked.
“Rebecca, there's someone here asking for Mrs. Miller.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
“A woman named Patricia Whitmore.”
Jessica's mother.
Daniel looked at me.
“What does she want?”
Rebecca's expression remained neutral.
“Would you like to speak with her?”
I thought of Patricia's polite smiles during wedding planning.
Her expensive perfume.
The way she had once told me that Jessica preferred a “small, elegant family circle” for the rehearsal dinner.
I had thought she meant immediate relatives.
Now I wondered whether she'd meant a family circle without me in it.
“Yes,” I said.
“But only if she's willing to speak here.”
Rebecca nodded.
Patricia entered a few minutes later.
She was dressed in a pale gray suit, her blonde hair pinned into a perfect knot.
But her face looked tired.
She saw Daniel and stopped.
“Oh.”
Daniel stood.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
Patricia's mouth trembled.
“You look terrible.”
He gave a bitter smile.
“It's been an interesting weekend.”
She looked at me.
“Margaret.”
“Patricia.”
For a moment, we stood like two women meeting at a church fundraiser.
Then Patricia sat.
She folded her hands so tightly that her knuckles whitened.
“I need to tell you something.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Before you begin, I should clarify that I represent Daniel in connection with the financing matter.”
Patricia looked at her.
“I know.”
“And anything you say here may become relevant to that dispute.”
Patricia nodded.
“I understand.”
I watched her carefully.
“What do you want to tell us?”
She looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
“Jessica didn't come up with the idea of excluding you on her own.”
The room became silent.
My chest tightened.
“What do you mean?”
Patricia looked down.
“Robert wanted distance between Daniel and his mother.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Why?”
May you like
Patricia's eyes filled.
“Because he believed Margaret would ask questions he couldn't answer.”
