Chapter 8 - Margaret’s Kitchen
Margaret denied everything.
She invited herself over instead of answering by phone.
I met her at the door.
Callum stood behind me.
History repeated itself quickly in families.
“I would never forge your name,” Margaret said.
“The examiner says the signature resembles your handwriting.”
“That proves nothing.”
“Then help us prove it.”
Her eyes moved toward Callum.
“You told her?”
“I told her about Dad’s signature.”
Margaret’s face collapsed.
“How could you?”
I almost laughed.
There it was again.
Not anger over what had been done.
Anger over who had stopped hiding it.
Margaret pushed past us before I could stop her.
She walked into the kitchen and dropped her purse onto a chair.
“I did what was necessary to keep this family together.”
Callum went pale.
I stared at her.
“You signed my name.”
“I signed a preliminary authorization.”
“You forged my signature.”
“It never became a loan.”
“That is not the defense you think it is.”
She started crying.
I did not comfort her.
Neither did Callum.
That seemed to frighten her.
Margaret wiped her face.
“Deline was desperate.”
“Deline is always desperate when someone else is paying.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Margaret sat down.
The truth came slowly.
The flower shop had been losing money for nearly two years.
Deline hid part of the losses from Peter.
Then she hid them from Margaret.
By the time Margaret understood the scale, the shop owed suppliers, the credit union, and a private lender.
“What private lender?”
Margaret looked at Callum.
He shook his head.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Who?” I asked.
Margaret whispered a name.
“Victor Hale.”
Callum stood.
“No.”
I looked between them.
“Who is Victor Hale?”
Callum answered.
“He lends money to businesses banks won’t touch.”
“Legally?”
“Usually.”
“That was not reassuring.”
Margaret covered her face.
“Deline borrowed eighty thousand.”
My heart pounded.
“What did she pledge?”
“The shop equipment.”
“Anything else?”
Margaret did not answer.
I knew.
“Say it.”
“The cabin.”
Callum stared at his mother.
“You let her pledge the cabin?”
“It’s in my name.”
“And Dad’s.”
“He signed.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“No, I didn’t.”
Graham stood there.
None of us had heard him enter.
Margaret turned white.
Graham held a sheet of paper.
“I called Victor this morning.”
He placed it on the island.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
He looked at his wife.
“That isn’t mine.”
Margaret began shaking.
I looked at Callum.
He looked at me.
One fake signature had become two.
Then Graham turned to his son.
“There is something else.”
Callum closed his eyes.
“What?”
“Victor says Deline promised him another asset if the cabin wasn’t enough.”
I already knew I would hate the answer.
“What asset?”
May you like
Graham looked toward the staircase.
“The land your grandfather left Renley.”
