Chapter 9: Marcus Makes His Move
Patricia's letter reached Marcus on a Thursday.
Ryan told me later that he knew because Marcus called him — not me, Ryan — at seven in the evening, and the call lasted eleven minutes.
I was in the kitchen when Ryan came in afterward.
He sat down.
He looked at the table.
"Tell me," I said.
"He's angry," Ryan said.
"He says you've been manipulated.
That I've turned you against your own family.
That Patricia Howe is a predatory attorney who makes money by destroying families."
"What else?"
"He says the lien is legitimate.
That the money you gave him over the years was a loan, not a gift.
That you agreed to it.
That there are documents proving it."
"There are no documents," I said.
"I never agreed to any loan."
"I know." Ryan looked up.
"He also said — and this is the part I want you to hear — he said that if you pursue this, he'll tell people.
Friends, the neighbors, people from church.
He'll say you've lost your mind.
That you're confused.
That Ryan has taken over your finances and is isolating you."
I sat with that for a moment.
"He's going to say I'm incompetent," I said.
"He's going to try to make you look like the problem," Ryan said.
"So that anything you say about him gets filtered through that."
"Does Patricia know?"
"I called her after he hung up.
She said it's a common response.
She said it actually helps our case, because it demonstrates he's aware of the exposure and is trying to manage it."
My phone lit up.
Leo.
I looked at it.
Ryan looked at it.
"Patricia said don't engage," Ryan said.
"I know."
I let it ring.
Then a text came through.
*Mom, I don't know what's going on but Marcus called me and I think there's been a big misunderstanding.
I never meant to make you feel forgotten on your birthday.
I feel terrible.
Can we please talk?
I miss you.*
I read it twice.
"He feels terrible," I said.
Ryan read it over my shoulder.
He didn't say anything.
"He approved the spa weekend request at 7:53," I said.
"He felt terrible at 7:54."
Ryan made a short sound.
Almost a laugh.
Not quite.
"What do I do?" I said.
"Nothing tonight," Ryan said.
"Tomorrow, Patricia's office.
She wants to talk about the next step."
I put the phone down.
I looked at the flowers — Ryan's gas station flowers, now fully drooped, petals beginning to fall onto the counter.
"I should throw those out," I said.
"Probably," Ryan said.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
The next morning, Patricia called before nine.
"Marcus's attorney reached out," she said.
"He wants to negotiate."
"Negotiate what?"
"He's proposing that the lien be reduced — not removed, reduced — in exchange for you agreeing not to pursue the elder abuse filing."
Ryan was beside me.
I put the call on speaker.
"That's not a negotiation," Ryan said.
"That's damage control."
"It is," Patricia agreed.
"I told his attorney we would consider any proposal that begins with full removal of the lien and a complete accounting of all funds transferred over the past three years.
His attorney said Marcus would not agree to that."
"Then we proceed," I said.
"Yes," Patricia said.
"There's something else.
I've been in contact with Adult Protective Services.
They've opened a case.
A caseworker will be reaching out to you directly this week."
"What does that mean for Marcus?"
"It means this is no longer just a civil matter," Patricia said.
"It means there is now a state record.
And it means that if Marcus attempts to claim you are mentally incompetent, he will be doing so against the backdrop of an active APS investigation into his own conduct."
I thought about Marcus on my doorstep.
His easy voice.
*We're her family.*
"Good," I said.
And I meant it the same way Ryan had meant it, three days ago at the kitchen table.
May you like
Clean.
Without apology.
