Chapter 15 - The $327,000 Demand
Daniel read the demand twice.
Then he smiled.
“That’s ambitious.”
I didn’t feel amused.
“She wants me to reimburse the money she gave my sisters?”
“That appears to be the argument.”
“For decisions she made without asking me?”
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“It’s weak.”
“But weak claims can still be expensive and stressful.”
I understood.
Mother may not have had a winning case.
But she knew lawsuits could frighten people into settlements.
For years, discomfort had been enough to make me pay.
Maybe she thought legal discomfort would work the same way.
Daniel drafted a response.
No promise of housing existed.
No financial contribution had been requested.
No funds from the sale of Evelyn Carter’s property were given to Audrey.
No improvement had been made to Audrey’s property using Evelyn’s funds.
No contractual or equitable basis existed for reimbursement.
Attached were Mother’s own messages assigning her money to Brianna’s debts, Chloe’s business, and Madison’s tuition.
The demand disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived.
Mother’s attorney withdrew from representing her three days later.
Then Brianna called me.
“Mom wants us to give the money back.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“The house money.”
“Can you?”
“No.”
Of course not.
Brianna’s debts were paid.
Chloe had spent much of her investment on inventory and marketing.
Madison’s tuition was already processed.
Mother had converted her home into money.
Then converted the money into rescues.
Now there was nothing left to reverse.
“Where is she staying?”
I asked.
“With Aunt Rebecca.”
“How long?”
“Rebecca says two weeks.”
I almost laughed at the symmetry.
Mother had distributed over three hundred thousand dollars and somehow still expected housing to be somebody else’s responsibility.
“Audrey.”
Brianna said.
“She’s falling apart.”
I hated what happened inside me then.
The old reflex.
Fix it.
Find an apartment.
Pay a deposit.
Rescue her.
I could have done it in an hour.
That was why I couldn’t.
If I rescued Mother now, nothing would change.
“Brianna.”
I said.
“Mom needs to solve this.”
“She’s sixty-seven.”
“She’s capable.”
“She says you’ve abandoned her.”
“No.”
“I stopped volunteering to absorb every consequence.”
Brianna was silent.
Then she surprised me.
“I think I understand.”
That evening, I received a message from Chloe.
It contained no apology.
Only a photograph.
A warehouse unit.
Shelving.
Boxes.
Candles.
Underneath she wrote:
Found a cheap workspace.
You were right that I needed my own address.
May you like
I stared at the message.
For the first time in years, one of my sisters had solved a problem without my money.
