Chapter 8 - Carol Didn’t Want The House
Carol Bennett met me at a coffee shop the next afternoon.
She did not hug me.
“Your mother would hate that dress.”
I looked down.
Clean now.
Green.
“What was wrong with it?”
“She thought you looked sick in green.”
I laughed.
That was Rebecca.
Carol smiled.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
“For Mom?”
“Yes.”
“For Daniel accusing you?”
“Eventually.”
She stirred her coffee.
“Which one are we discussing?”
“Death certificates.”
The smile disappeared.
“Arthur told me.”
“You've spoken to Mr. Hayes.”
“This morning.”
“Did you use Mom's email?”
“No.”
“Her credit card?”
“No.”
“Carter Legacy Research?”
“Yes.”
My pulse changed.
“When?”
“While Rebecca was alive.”
“After?”
“No.”
“Did you keep copies of her records?”
“Yes.”
Daniel had been right about that part.
“Why?”
“Because she asked me to.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust the house.”
I frowned.
“The house.”
“The people inside it.”
Better.
“Daniel?”
“Sometimes.”
“Margaret?”
“Sometimes.”
“You?”
Carol looked at me.
“You weren't inside it.”
Fair.
“What records?”
“Property maintenance. Household accounts. Old correspondence.”
“Death documents?”
“Rebecca's.”
“Did you copy them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Everything connected to her final arrangements.”
“Where are they?”
“With me.”
My anger sharpened.
“Why?”
“She told me to hold copies for a year.”
“Did Mr. Hayes know?”
“No.”
“That's insane.”
“Yes.”
Carol didn't defend it.
“Why agree?”
“Because Rebecca was sick and scared.”
“That doesn't make her instructions good.”
“No.”
I liked Carol.
“What was she scared of?”
“That Daniel and Margaret would turn her death into the final argument about Thomas.”
My father.
“What did she think they'd do?”
“Fight the deed.”
That slowed me.
“She knew.”
“Of course.”
“Did she tell Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A month before she died.”
Daniel had said he knew.
Good.
“Did he threaten her?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“Cried.”
Of course.
Carol continued:
“He asked why she hated him.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That she didn't.”
“And?”
“That loving him did not make him the owner.”
I looked away.
“What did Daniel say?”
Carol took time.
“‘Then give it to both of us.’”
My attention came back.
“And?”
“Rebecca said no.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought joint ownership would turn every repair into a referendum on your childhoods.”
That sounded accurate.
“What did she tell him about choosing me?”
Carol shook her head.
“I'm not sure.”
“Daniel says she chose me because I would sell.”
“She told me you might.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Carol looked at me.
“She was afraid you would keep it because guilt got to you.”
That surprised me.
“Guilt.”
“She knew how you worked too.”
I laughed softly.
“Wonderful.”
Carol continued:
“She said if she gave you the house and then told you what to do, she'd just be making you manage another family problem from nine hundred miles away.”
I stared at my coffee.
That was almost an apology.
Almost.
“So she told no one.”
“She told Arthur not to influence you.”
That matched.
“Then why keep copies?”
Carol looked toward the window.
“Because she did not trust Daniel to lose gracefully.”
“Was she right?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“What about Margaret?”
“Rebecca understood Margaret better.”
“Meaning?”
“She thought Margaret would fight emotionally and stop before paperwork.”
I laughed.
“Wrong.”
“Yes.”
Carol looked sad.
“She got sicker faster than anyone expected.”
“What happened with the research company?”
“Rebecca hired them to reconstruct old ownership history because Margaret kept saying Thomas had stolen the mansion from the rest of the family by leaving it to Rebecca.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“What did they find?”
“Your grandparents refinanced three times. Margaret contributed some money. Thomas contributed more later. Then Rebecca paid off the final mortgage after she married Thomas using money from selling a condo she owned.”
That was the part Margaret probably hated.
The house had never been pure Carter money.
Nothing was.
“Did Daniel know?”
“Yes.”
“Did it change anything?”
Carol almost smiled.
“No.”
Of course.
“Did you have access to Rebecca's email after death?”
“No.”
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Credit card?”
“No.”
“Could your copies be used to forge my death certificate?”
Her expression changed.
“In theory, my copies had Rebecca's death certificate.”
“Who had access?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
“My storage unit.”
“Secure?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone break in?”
“No.”
I leaned back.
Dead end.
Then Carol said:
“Emma.”
“What?”
“Daniel didn't accuse me of stealing because files were missing.”
I stared.
“Then why?”
“Because he found out Rebecca had given me one instruction involving you.”
“What instruction?”
Carol looked uncomfortable.
“If you came back before Christmas, I was supposed to call Arthur.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“To make sure Daniel couldn't get you alone in the house first.”
My skin went cold.
“Why would Mom worry about that?”
“Not violence.”
Carol shook her head.
“She thought he'd pressure you into signing something before you understood the deed.”
“Did he try?”
“No.”
“Because I didn't come back.”
“Yes.”
“So Daniel knew you had instructions about me.”
“He suspected.”
“And accused you.”
“Yes.”
“Why leave?”
Carol looked tired.
“Because Rebecca was dead and I no longer needed to prove I could survive her family.”
Fair.
I stood.
“Did you supply anything to Carter Legacy Research in September?”
“No.”
“Could Rebecca have prepaid work?”
Carol thought.
“No.”
Then stopped.
“What?”
“She did give them one future instruction.”
My pulse changed again.
“What?”
“If anyone contacted them after her death claiming Emma was dead, they were supposed to notify Arthur.”
I stared.
“They didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Carol reached for her phone.
She found an old email.
Read it.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“Rebecca didn't tell them to notify Arthur.”
“Then?”
“She told them to notify Daniel.”
I stared.
“Why Daniel?”
Carol looked as confused as I felt.
My mother had apparently set a trap for anyone who tried to erase me.
May you like
And she had chosen my brother—the alternate beneficiary—to receive the warning.
Which meant, at some point before she died, Rebecca had trusted Daniel to do the opposite of what he had done.
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