Chapter 8: What Gerald Offered
Grace called at seven-forty.
"Gerald's attorneys sent a settlement proposal last night," she said.
"I want you to hear it before you react."
"Tell me."
"They're offering to withdraw the estate motion in exchange for your agreement not to pursue any claims against the Calloway estate or any related entities.
They're also asking you to sign a non-disclosure agreement covering all communications, documents, and proceedings related to the trust."
I sat on the edge of my bed.
"He wants me to take nothing and stay quiet."
"In exchange for him also taking nothing.
He's framing it as a clean break for both parties."
"He's framing it as a favor."
"Yes."
"What happens to the letter?
To Paul's statement?
To the judge?"
"Under the NDA, you couldn't use them.
Couldn't share them.
Couldn't speak about them to anyone."
"And the trust itself?"
"Dissolved.
No payment to you.
No acknowledgment of wrongdoing."
I stood up and walked to the window.
"He's scared," I said.
"He's very scared.
This offer came at eleven o'clock last night.
His attorneys don't work at eleven o'clock at night unless someone is panicking." Grace's voice was steady.
"I want to be clear with you about what accepting means.
You walk away from the trust.
You walk away from any legal action related to what was done to you and your mother.
And you keep quiet about a judge who may still be operating in family court."
The last part sat in the room.
"There may be other families," I said.
"That's the question I was waiting for you to ask." A pause.
"Yes.
If Briggs is still on the bench, and if he has continued operating the way this letter suggests, there may be others."
I thought about a seven-year-old girl in a police station hallway, screaming for her mother.
I thought about eleven years of moving from house to house.
I thought about $143 and two garbage bags.
"Decline it," I said.
"You're certain."
"Decline it and tell them we'll see them in court."
A short silence.
"All right.
I'll respond this morning." Another pause.
"Nora.
Gerald is not going to accept this gracefully.
He's going to escalate."
"I know."
"He may go after Paul directly.
Try to have him disbarred, claim the documents were improperly obtained."
"Can he?"
"He can try.
Paul's position is defensible but it will be unpleasant for him.
I want you to know that before we proceed."
"Does Paul know?"
"I spoke to him this morning.
He said, and I'm quoting directly — 'I've been unpleasant before.
I'll manage.'"
Something loosened in my chest.
"Send the decline," I said.
I showered, dressed, and drove to my first store.
I needed to see it.
I needed to stand inside something I had built with my own hands and remember why none of this was negotiable.
My manager, Donna, met me at the door.
"The licensing men didn't come back," she said.
"But someone called this morning asking about our supplier contracts.
Said they were doing a market survey."
"Did they leave a name?"
"A company name.
I wrote it down." She handed me a slip of paper.
The company name meant nothing to me.
I photographed it and sent it to Grace.
Her response came back in six minutes: *Shell company.
Registered eighteen months ago.
Registered agent is the same firm handling Gerald's estate.
He's looking for leverage on your supply chain.
I'll make some calls.*
I stood in the middle of my store.
Candles on every shelf.
The smell of cedar and vanilla.
A woman near the back was holding two jars up to the light, trying to decide.
Gerald Calloway was trying to dismantle this.
He had never set foot in this store.
He didn't know what it had taken to build it.
He saw a line item in an estate document and a name in a newspaper and decided it was his.
My phone rang.
Grace.
"His attorneys just called me back," she said.
"Gerald wants a meeting.
In person.
Just you and him, no lawyers."
"He said no lawyers?"
"He said he wants to speak with you as family."
The word landed like something dropped from a height.
"Tell him I'll meet him," I said.
"With my lawyer present.
If he doesn't agree to that, we have nothing to discuss."
A pause.
"He agreed."
"Of course he did." I set a candle back on the shelf.
"When?"
"Tomorrow.
Two o'clock.
His office."
May you like
I looked around the store one more time.
"I'll be there," I said.
