The Signature That Had Gone Somewhere I Had Never Been

I folded the copied deed before Elsie could read my face.

"Can we get pancakes?" I asked.

She looked surprised. We usually made them at home because a plate in town cost nine dollars.

"Even though I spent my money?"

"Especially then."

I bought two plates and left my phone facedown. Elsie told me which books belonged to the room and which had her name inside. I wrote the titles on a napkin.

That evening, I called the lawyer whose name was on the packet.

Jo Ellis answered from her kitchen. I could hear dishes.

"I was Willa's lawyer," she said. "I've sent you three letters. Grant said you wanted him to screen calls while you grieved."

"I never said that."

The dishes stopped.

She asked me to bring everything at eight the next morning.

Grant stayed out late. When I asked about the packet, he said title companies sent too much paper.

"Don't get worked up over forms you don't understand."

I put the envelope in my work bag and slept beside Elsie.

At Jo's office, the first thing she showed me was a trust agreement.

Willa had signed it seven years earlier. The building had already belonged to that trust when she died. Elsie was its beneficiary. I was the person Willa had chosen to manage it after her death.

"So Grant doesn't own it?"

"No."

"And I don't have to buy it from him?"

Jo pulled her chair closer.

"No, Nora. You don't."

For six weeks, I had lain awake doing math on my fingers. I had wondered whether I could clean offices after my dispatch shift. All that time, Grant had been letting me believe he was keeping us fed.

Jo showed me another page.

Willa had left $38,600 in the trust's reserve account. The money was meant for building costs and Elsie's needs.

"What about the seventy-one thousand dollars?" I asked.

"I've seen no bill for that amount. We'll request the actual care account."

We turned to the deed Leon had given me.

It claimed I had transferred the building from the trust to a company Grant owned. The price was listed as ten dollars.

The signature looked like mine.

The place beside the notary seal was Cedar Cove, almost eighty miles away. The date was September 12. The time was ten twenty in the morning.

I opened my work calendar.

"I was at dispatch. A culvert flooded on the south route. We moved every pickup that morning. I couldn't even leave to buy lunch."

"Can someone verify that?"

"Four drivers. My supervisor. The radio log."

Jo made a list.

Then she called the title officer using the number on the packet. She asked him to explain why he needed another signature.

"We flagged the earlier transfer," he said on speaker. "The signature image looked pasted in. We need independent confirmation before we can insure the buyer's title."

"You won't get confirmation," Jo said. "My client denies signing it."

The sale was due to close Friday. The buyer's $24,300 deposit was still in escrow. Nothing had been paid out.

For the first time since Sunday, I could take a full breath.

Jo sent written notice of the dispute. The title officer confirmed he would not clear the sale while the problem remained.

"That buys us time," she told me. "It doesn't fix the deed. We'll ask the court to protect the property and correct the record."

She also asked about the reserve account.

I had never received its statements. Grant had opened the mail and told me each envelope was another debt.

With my trustee papers and identification, we went to the bank.

The balance was $21,200.

Someone had sent $17,400 to a company called LR Property Services for a roof repair.

"Did the roof need work?" Jo asked.

I thought of Leon setting buckets under a cracked workshop window. Willa had fixed that herself with sealant last spring.

"Not that I knew of."

The bank stopped outgoing transfers while it reviewed the disputed payment and changed who could access the account.

I walked outside with a folder pressed to my chest. There was still money. There was still a building. There might even be a way out.

Then Elsie's voice came through my phone.

"Mama? Dad's packing my suitcase. He said we're moving tonight."