Chapter 9: What Marcus Said
Marcus called David that afternoon.
David almost didn't pick up.
He stood in the kitchen and watched his brother-in-law's name on the screen for four full rings, and then he answered because not answering felt like flinching.
"I need you to hear my side of this," Marcus said.
"Go ahead."
"Lauren came to me eight months ago.
She said she was worried about your mother.
She said the house was becoming a burden — financially, physically.
She said she'd tried to talk to you about it and you wouldn't engage."
"That's not true."
"I know that now.
I'm telling you what she told me." A pause.
"She said she had a plan to move things forward.
She said you were on board but that your mother was resistant and needed to be handled carefully.
She said if we could get the process started, you'd come around once you saw the numbers."
"And you believed her."
A long silence.
"She's my sister.
And the plan made financial sense on paper.
The house is worth a lot.
Your mother is in her seventies.
It seemed—" He stopped.
"It seemed like the kind of thing families do."
"Families don't forge signatures, Marcus."
"I didn't know about the letter.
I want to be clear about that.
I knew about the listing.
I knew about the company.
I did not know she had told the realtor she was acting as your mother's representative, or that she had provided false documentation." Another pause.
"When I found out last night — after the officer called me — I was sick."
"The account," David said.
"Crestfield.
Your name is on it."
"Yes."
"You were going to receive the proceeds of a sale my mother never agreed to."
"I thought she had agreed.
Lauren told me—"
"Lauren told you what you needed to hear to make it work." David's voice was even.
"And you let her.
Because the numbers made sense."
The silence this time was different.
Heavier.
"I know," Marcus said.
"I know that's what happened."
"What do you want from this call, Marcus?"
"I want you to know that I am cooperating with the police.
Fully.
Whatever they need — the company documents, the communications with Lauren, the account records.
All of it." He paused.
"I'm not going to protect her on this.
What she did to your mother — I can't protect that."
"She's your sister."
"She sl\*pped an old woman in front of her family and tried to sell her house out from under her." His voice was tight.
"She's my sister and I love her and I cannot protect that."
David was quiet for a moment.
"Patricia Osei is handling the property side," he said.
"If you're cooperating, you'll need to speak to her as well.
She'll want the Crestfield documents."
"I'll call her today."
"Good."
He was about to end the call when Marcus spoke again.
"David.
For what it's worth — your mother's house.
It should stay hers.
For as long as she wants it." A pause.
"I should have said that to Lauren eight months ago.
I should have said it the moment she came to me with the plan."
David looked out the kitchen window at the apple tree.
"Yes," he said.
"You should have."
He ended the call and stood in the kitchen for a moment, in the quiet of the house, in the particular quality of afternoon light that came through the back window at this time of year — the same light that had been coming through that window for thirty-six years.
His mother appeared in the doorway.
She had been in the garden.
"Marcus?" she asked.
"He's cooperating."
She nodded.
She came in and washed her hands at the sink and dried them on the towel that hung from the oven handle — the same hook Thomas had installed, the same towel rail he had measured twice before drilling.
"Patricia called while you were on with him," she said.
"The buyers' solicitors have been notified.
The transaction is void.
They're not pursuing your mother — they're pursuing Foss's brokerage for failing to verify authorization."
"Good."
"She also said the crjminal referral has been formally made.
It's out of Officer Carver's hands now.
A detective will be in touch."
David sat down at the kitchen table.
His mother put the kettle on.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He thought about it honestly, the way she had taught him to when he was young and she had asked the same question and meant it.
"Not yet," he said.
"But I think I will be."
She set two cups on the counter.
May you like
Outside, the apple tree moved in the late afternoon wind, and the light came through the window the way it always had, the way it would keep doing long after all of this was over.
"That's enough for today," she said.
