Chapter 6: The Woman Who Erased Me
I stood on the front step of my father's house with Margaret's voice in my ear and said nothing for five full seconds.
"How did you get this number?"
"Caroline gave it to me."
Of course she did.
"I don't think we have anything to say to each other," I said.
"Susan." Her voice was measured.
Practiced.
The voice of someone who had rehearsed this call.
"I understand you're angry.
I understand you've been told things that have made me sound like a monster.
But there are two sides to every story, and I would like the chance to tell you mine before this becomes something none of us can take back."
"You told my father I was d*ad."
A pause.
"That is not what happened."
"Then what happened?"
"I told him the baby was unlikely to survive.
You were premature.
You were in the NICU.
The doctors were not optimistic.
I was trying to protect him from hope that might not—"
"I was in the NICU for eleven days," I said.
"And then I was placed in foster care.
Not a grave.
Foster care.
You had thirty-one years to correct what you said."
Silence.
"I made a mistake," she said finally.
"I made a terrible mistake, and then I didn't know how to undo it.
By the time you were out of the hospital, Thomas had already—"
"Already what?
Already moved on because you told him his daughter was g*ne?"
"It was complicated."
"The bank transfers weren't complicated.
The letter you sent in 1991 asking for more money wasn't complicated."
The silence this time was different.
Harder.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
The practiced warmth was gone.
"I see Gerald has been thorough."
"My father was thorough," I said.
"Gerald is just doing his job."
"Your father," Margaret said, "was a man who found it very convenient to believe what he was told.
I didn't force him to send that money.
I didn't force him to stop looking.
He made choices, Susan.
I was one of many factors."
"You were the first factor.
You were the one who made the call."
"And he was the one who chose to believe it without asking a single question." Her voice was sharper now.
"I am not the only person responsible for your childhood.
But I'm the easiest one to blame, aren't I?
Because I'm not d*ad.
Because I can actually be held accountable."
It was a calculated thing to say.
She wanted me angry.
She wanted me reactive.
I made myself breathe.
"What do you want, Margaret?"
"I want to meet.
In person.
Before this goes to court."
"Why?"
"Because there are things I know about your father's estate that are not in any document Gerald has shown you.
Things that will become very complicated if this becomes a legal fight." A pause.
"I'm not threatening you.
I'm telling you that the situation is more complex than you currently understand, and that it would be in your interest to hear me out before you make decisions you can't reverse."
I looked at the front door.
Still closed.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"Don't think too long.
Caroline's attorney is filing the contest on Friday."
I hung up.
I went inside.
I went straight upstairs, past the closed door of Caroline's room, and into the guest room.
I sat on the bed.
I called the number Gerald had written on the back of his card.
A woman answered.
"Diane Holloway."
"My name is Susan.
Gerald Marsh gave me your number.
My father was Thomas Hargrove."
A brief pause.
"I've been expecting your call.
Gerald told me the situation.
How soon can you come in?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"I'll clear my schedule," she said.
"Susan — don't agree to meet anyone connected to the estate before we speak.
Not Caroline.
Not her attorney.
And not Margaret."
I looked at the wall.
"She called me twenty minutes ago."
"I know," Diane said.
"She called my office this morning trying to find out if I'd been retained.
She didn't leave her name, but I recognized the number." A pause.
"She's scared.
May you like
That's why she's moving fast.
We need to move faster."
