Chapter 10 - Daniel Had Already Promised Part Of The Property Away
Margaret learned about the land deal from me.
That was satisfying for approximately three seconds.
Then I watched her face.
“What land deal?”
Daniel was gone again.
Mr. Hayes had found the term sheet among documents Hollis turned over.
Not signed by an owner.
Not legally binding against me.
Still revealing.
Daniel had spent November negotiating with a developer for the rear four acres of the estate.
The mansion sat on seven.
Margaret read the summary at the breakfast table.
“He was going to split the grounds.”
“Yes.”
“He told me the title challenge was to keep the estate intact.”
“Apparently his definition had acreage exceptions.”
She didn't smile.
“Why?”
Mr. Hayes answered:
“Property carrying costs. Some personal reimbursement. He claims remaining proceeds would restore the house.”
Margaret stared toward the windows.
Beyond them, the back lawn ran into trees.
I had sledded there with Daniel when I was six.
He pushed me into a holly bush and then spent twenty minutes picking leaves out of my hair before Dad found out.
“He was selling the hill,” Margaret whispered.
I knew which hill.
Everyone did.
Thomas Carter used to drag folding chairs up there on summer nights because he insisted the mosquitoes were “less ambitious” above the tree line.
“He hadn't sold anything.”
“Yet.”
She pushed the term sheet away.
“I signed that affidavit for this.”
“For the house.”
“He told me the rear land would never be touched.”
I looked at her.
“Would you have signed if he told you?”
“No.”
“Would you have signed if he said he planned to do nothing but keep the mansion forever?”
Margaret took time.
“Yes.”
There was still the problem.
Being deceived by Daniel did not undo the lie she chose herself.
I appreciated that she didn't pretend otherwise.
Daniel arrived around noon.
Margaret met him in the foyer.
No screaming.
Worse.
“You were selling the hill.”
He stopped.
“Who showed you?”
She laughed.
“That’s your question?”
“Margaret.”
“You told me Emma would bulldoze the place.”
“She might.”
“And you planned to cut it in half first.”
“To save the house.”
“From what?”
“Money.”
He dropped his keys into a bowl.
“Taxes. Insurance. Repairs. Do you think this place runs on Thomas's memory?”
Margaret flinched.
I almost did too.
Daniel continued:
“I've paid almost a hundred thousand dollars since Rebecca died.”
Mr. Hayes stepped forward.
“You have submitted approximately sixty-four thousand in verified property expenses.”
Daniel glared.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
“Accuracy is free.”
I asked:
“Why not call me?”
Daniel laughed.
“To ask the woman who didn't know she owned it?”
“You knew Arthur could reach me.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
He looked away.
There.
“You didn't want me involved.”
“No.”
Finally.
“Why?”
“Because once you knew, I needed your permission.”
“That is generally how ownership works.”
He snapped:
“I had been handling it for nine months.”
“You made yourself manager.”
“Someone had to.”
“Then send me the bills.”
“You would have sold.”
“Maybe.”
“And that's enough for you?”
“It's enough because it's my decision.”
Daniel stared at me.
The sentence physically irritated him.
Margaret said:
“She isn't selling the hill.”
I turned.
“You don't know that.”
Margaret looked stunned.
“Emma.”
“No.”
I pointed between both of them.
“This is exactly the problem.”
She went quiet.
Daniel almost smiled.
I looked at him.
“Not you either.”
His smile disappeared.
Mr. Hayes looked tired but mildly hopeful.
Daniel said:
“If you sell that land, the mansion loses half its value.”
“Then make a better argument.”
“I shouldn't have to.”
“That is the only kind of argument you know.”
His face hardened.
“Rebecca knew you'd do this.”
I stopped.
“Do what?”
“Stand there and make everybody apply for permission.”
I laughed once.
“She made me the owner.”
“Because she knew you'd sell.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because she told me.”
Mr. Hayes looked at him.
“No.”
Daniel turned.
“Yes.”
“She never said that.”
“She said Emma is the only person willing to let Carter House end.”
Mr. Hayes nodded.
“That is not the same sentence.”
“Close enough.”
“No.”
Mr. Hayes's voice sharpened.
“She also said Emma might keep it because grief makes people surprise themselves.”
I stared.
Daniel looked away.
He had omitted that.
Mr. Hayes continued:
“Rebecca did not pick an outcome.”
“Then what did she pick?”
I asked.
Mr. Hayes looked at me.
“A person she believed could tolerate not knowing what the right answer was.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“So uncertainty wins the house.”
“No.”
Mr. Hayes turned toward him.
“Control lost it.”
Silence.
Too neat.
Even Mr. Hayes seemed to regret the line.
He tried again.
“Your mother offered you the property. You refused because accepting required acknowledging her authority to offer it.”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“She was not my mother.”
Carol had warned me about that word.
I watched him.
“You don't mean that.”
He looked at me.
For several seconds he fought the answer.
Then:
“Not when I'm angry.”
That was more honest.
Margaret sat down.
Daniel stared at the floor.
I asked:
“Who created the death certificate?”
He looked up.
“I don't know.”
“You saw it before filing.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His eyes met mine.
“Because for one minute, I wanted it to be true.”
The room went silent.
Not my death.
What it meant.
No Emma.
No permission.
No mother choosing someone else.
May you like
Daniel understood how terrible the sentence sounded.
He did not take it back.
