Chapter 6: The Morning They Came to Her Door
The letter from the law firm of Hargrove & Sloane arrived by courier at 9:15 the next morning.
Patty had already called Ruth at eight.
Ruth had already called Martin Webb.
Martin Webb had already been on the phone with the district attorney's office when Patty's courier arrived.
She signed for the envelope, set it on the kitchen table, and called Ruth back.
"It's here."
"Don't open it alone.
Can you come in?"
"I'm on my way."
She was reaching for her keys when she heard a car pull into the driveway.
Two cars.
Trent's gray sedan.
And behind it, a black SUV she didn't recognize.
Trent got out first.
Nora followed.
A man in a dark suit climbed out of the SUV — mid-fifties, briefcase, the practiced calm of someone who did this for a living.
Patty stood at the kitchen window and watched them come up the front walk.
She called Ruth.
"They're here.
Trent, Nora, and a man I don't know.
Suit.
Briefcase."
"That's likely someone from Hargrove and Sloane.
Do not open the door until I tell you it's all right to do so.
I'm calling you back in sixty seconds."
The doorbell rang.
Patty stood in her kitchen.
It rang again.
Then Trent knocked.
"Mom.
I know you're home.
Your car is in the driveway.
We just need to talk."
Ruth called back in fifty-three seconds.
"Martin is on his way to you.
He's twenty minutes out.
You do not have to open that door.
You are under no legal obligation to speak to them or to their attorney today."
"And if I want to?"
A pause.
"Then I'll stay on the line with you.
But Patty — be careful.
The man with them is there to observe you.
To document your behavior.
Everything you say and do in the next twenty minutes may be used to support their petition."
Patty understood.
She walked to the front door and opened it.
Trent's expression shifted quickly from impatience to something that was trying to look like concern.
"Mom.
Thank you.
We just want to—"
"You can speak," Patty said.
"But I want you to know that my attorney is on the phone right now and I am recording this conversation."
She wasn't recording it.
But the man in the suit glanced at his client.
Trent recovered fast.
"That's fine.
We have nothing to hide." He gestured to the man beside him.
"This is Gerald Sloane.
He's been helping us with some estate planning."
"Estate planning," Patty repeated.
"For the family, yes.
Mom, we're worried about you.
After what happened with the check — canceling it without warning, the confusion about the walkthrough — we just want to make sure you're protected."
"I canceled the check because your son told me I was a peasant and you stood behind him and smiled.
There was no confusion."
Nora stepped forward.
Her voice was warm in the way that certain things are warm on the surface and cold underneath.
"Mrs.
Henderson, nobody is trying to upset you.
We love you.
We're concerned.
You've been alone since David passed, and grief can affect people in ways they don't always recognize in themselves."
"I recognized it fine," Patty said.
"I recognized it well enough to call my bank, retain an attorney, and contact the district attorney's office."
Gerald Sloane's hand tightened on his briefcase.
Trent's face changed.
The concern dropped.
What replaced it was something Patty had not seen before — not amusement, not entitlement.
Something closer to calculation.
"Mom, you don't need to involve lawyers in a family matter."
"You involved lawyers first," Patty said.
"The petition was filed last night.
My attorney has a copy this morning."
Silence.
Nora looked at Gerald Sloane.
He looked at Trent.
Trent looked at Patty.
"We're trying to protect you," he said.
His voice had gone flat.
"From what, Trent?
From my own money?
From my own home?" Patty looked at her son steadily.
"I have the text messages between you and Nora from six years ago.
I have the email Nora sent to your attorney three weeks ago.
I have the forged power-of-attorney form.
I have a witness who heard you asking people to provide written statements about my mental state." She paused.
"Is there anything else you'd like to protect me from?"
Trent said nothing.
Nora's face had gone very still.
Gerald Sloane cleared his throat.
"Mrs.
Henderson, I think it would be best if we—"
"I think it would be best if you left my property," Patty said.
"My attorney will be in contact with your firm."
She closed the door.
Her back was against it for a moment before her legs steadied.
Ruth's voice came through the phone, quiet and clear.
"That was exactly right."
A car door closed outside.
Then another.
May you like
Then the sound of two engines pulling away.
Martin Webb arrived fourteen minutes later.
