Chapter 9: Eleanor
The state attorney's office moved faster than Karen had expected.
Eleanor was formally notified of the investigation six weeks after the notary referral.
The investigation covered the voided documents, the property transfer, and the guardianship plan.
The notary — a woman named Greta Simms who had worked for Eleanor's family for years — cooperated fully in exchange for reduced exposure.
She provided records of every document she had stamped, every instruction she had received, and every communication she'd had with Eleanor over the past two years.
Karen called me on a Wednesday afternoon.
"Eleanor's been charged," she said.
"Document fraud.
The property transfer specifically.
The guardianship document is included as a secondary count."
I was standing in the kitchen of my own house.
I had moved back in three weeks earlier, after David signed the settlement and vacated.
The house felt different — quieter, larger, like a coat that needed to be broken in again.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"She'll be arraigned.
Her attorney will argue for dismissal, probably on the grounds that the documents were prepared by counsel and she relied on their advice.
It won't work — Greta Simms's records are too specific.
Eleanor gave direct instructions." Karen paused.
"She's looking at a fine and a suspended sentence, most likely.
Possibly community service.
She won't go to prison, but the conviction will be on record."
"And the family trust?"
"The trust is being reviewed by the court.
Assets that were moved through the voided documents are frozen pending the outcome." Karen's voice was careful.
"There's something else.
Dana has retained her own attorney.
She's cooperating with the investigation and providing records of her own.
She appears to be trying to distance herself from Eleanor."
I thought about Dana at the dinner table, going back to her champagne.
Dana stepping between me and Eleanor with the ease of someone who had done it before.
"She knew," I said.
"Almost certainly.
But she's cooperating, which means the investigation moves faster and Eleanor has less room to maneuver." Karen paused again.
"I thought you should know — Eleanor called my office this morning.
She asked to speak with you directly."
"No," I said.
"That's what I told her."
After I hung up, I stood in the kitchen for a moment.
Through the window, I could see the back garden — overgrown at the edges, the way it always got in autumn, the way I had always meant to fix and never had.
Mia's bicycle was leaning against the fence.
She had left it there after school and come inside for a snack and forgotten it, the way six-year-olds forget things, completely and without guilt.
I went outside and wheeled the bicycle into the shed.
When I came back in, Mia was at the kitchen table with her crayons.
She had drawn a house — square, with a triangular roof and a yellow door and two figures standing in front of it.
One tall, one small.
"Who's that?" I asked, pointing to the tall figure.
"You," she said, without looking up.
"And the small one?"
"Me." She selected a blue crayon.
"I'm going to make my dress blue.
Like my real one."
I sat down beside her.
"That sounds right," I said.
She colored carefully, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth the way it always was when she was concentrating.
I watched her and didn't say anything.
After a while she held up the drawing.
"Is it good?" she asked.
"It's very good," I said.
May you like
She looked at it, satisfied, and set it back on the table.
Then she picked up a green crayon and started on the garden.
