Chapter 7 - EVERYBODY KNOWS WE’RE KIDDING
My parents called an emergency family meeting without inviting me.
Rebecca sent messages saying I was destroying Mom and Dad over a misunderstanding. Uncle Howard accused me of using technicalities to punish elderly people. My cousins deleted several memes from the family group after realizing the insurer might preserve them.
Deleting them did not remove the originals.
Dad had already posted copies publicly.
Miguel provided the canceled estimate and Dad’s email. My insurance agent confirmed no contract existed between my company and my parents. The supplier records showed my parents purchased only materials, while I provided tools and labor without payment.
The insurer reopened the original claim review.
It did not accuse them of fraud immediately. It requested interviews, financial records and an explanation for the completion certificate.
Dad said he believed I had authorized him to sign it.
I had not.
Mom said she assumed the roof was “basically complete.”
The videos showed open decking.
They claimed the Europe trip came from retirement savings.
Bank records showed the booking charges followed the insurance deposit.
They said the money was fungible and therefore unrelated.
That argument did not change the fact that insurance proceeds intended for repairs had not been used for repairs before they represented the work as completed.
My parents’ story shifted repeatedly.
First, they were too poor to hire labor.
Then they could afford labor but preferred family help.
Then I had agreed to be the contractor.
Then I had abandoned a professional job.
Then the roof had been complete before the storm.
The facts remained in one place while their explanation moved around them.
At one point, Dad called and said he could forgive me if I told the insurer it had all been a joke.
I remembered the television replaying my burned face while the family laughed.
May you like
“Everybody knows we were kidding,” he said.
“No,” I replied. “Everybody now knows exactly what you were doing.”
