Chapter 5: What My Son Knew
I sat on Mrs.
Gable’s sofa with my overnight bag at my feet.
Through her window, I could see the pale yellow wall of my house.
Mrs.
Gable placed a mug in my hands.
“Drink before it gets cold.”
“I used to make tea for Brandon when he was frightened.”
She sat beside me.
“Then let somebody make it for you tonight.”
A knock came at the door.
Martin stood outside holding a metal cashbox and a flash drive.
“If you came to defend them, leave,” Mrs.
Gable said.
“I came because my wife lied to me.”
He placed the cashbox on the coffee table.
Inside were copies of loan forms, bills from a failed property venture, and receipts bearing Brenda’s name.
Martin pointed to a statement.
“Brenda and Elaine invested in a renovation project.
The contractor disappeared, and they owed more than a hundred thousand dollars.”
“So they chose my house,” I said.
“They chose your house because it had no mortgage.”
He connected the flash drive to Mrs.
Gable’s laptop.
Elaine’s voice filled the room.
“Once the loan clears, Catherine can complain all she wants.
The medical letter will make her look confused.”
Brenda answered, “And if Brandon loses his nerve?”
“Remind him the baby needs a home.”
I covered my mouth.
Mrs.
Gable took the mug before it slipped from my hands.
Martin paused the recording.
“My office system automatically saves calls made from the business line.
Elaine used it because she thought I had disabled the archive.”
“You were at my table,” I said.
“You told me to move into a senior community.”
His shoulders lowered.
“Elaine told me you wanted to sell the house and leave Brandon with nothing.
I believed her because that was easier than asking you.”
“That does not excuse what you said.”
“No.
It doesn’t.”
The front door opened behind him.
Brandon walked in carrying my old expense notebook.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
I stood.
“Why do you have that?”
“I found it in the utility room.”
“Put it down.”
He held it against his chest.
“Brenda says you’re using it to make her look like a thief.”
“The entries are in my handwriting.
The withdrawals are on my bank statements.”
“I knew about some of them,” he said.
The room went still.
“How many?”
“Maybe fifteen thousand.”
My knees weakened, and Mrs.
Gable caught my elbow.
“You knew she was taking my money?”
“I thought we were borrowing it.”
“Did you ask me?”
“No.”
“Did you plan to repay it?”
He looked toward the floor.
“I thought you didn’t need that much.”
The words struck harder than Brenda’s insults.
“You thought forty years of my work belonged to you because I was old?”
“Mom, that isn’t what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
I sank onto the sofa.
Tears ran down my face before I could wipe them away, and Mrs.
Gable wrapped both arms around my shoulders.
Brandon knelt in front of me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Your father worked nights to pay off that house,” I said.
“After he was gone, I kept saving because I never wanted to become a burden to you.”
“You were never a burden.”
“You put me in a utility room.”
His face crumpled.
“I let her do it because I was afraid she would leave.”
“And you decided losing me would hurt less?”
He had no answer.
Martin broke the silence.
“Brandon, give your mother the notebook.”
Brandon set it on the table.
A torn edge showed where one page had been removed.
I opened it.
The page listing the first three withdrawals was gone.
“Where is it?” I asked.
Brandon stared at the torn binding.
May you like
His phone lit up with a message from Brenda: BRING ME THE NOTEBOOK.
WE HAVE TO DESTROY THE REST BEFORE THE HEARING.
