Chapter 2 - The Story She Wanted Everyone to Believe
Harper followed the ambulance to County General in her wedding dress. She arrived before me somehow, still wearing her veil, and had already told a nurse that my mother had suffered an episode of confusion.
"She's been forgetting things," Harper said softly. "We're very worried about her."
"That's not what happened," I said.
"The patient can speak for herself," the nurse said.
Mom's wrist was badly sprained. A scan showed no head injury, but the doctor wanted to keep her overnight because of the fall and the medication she took for her heart. Dad refused to leave the doorway. His hands shook inside his shirt cuffs.
When the doctor stepped out, Harper turned to me. "Please tell me you know I would never hurt your mother."
"I watched you push her."
"She accused me of stealing something. She grabbed my sleeve. I panicked."
"Then why tell everybody she was confused?"
"Because she is, Nate. You know she's been repeating herself."
Mom repeated favorite stories, but she knew the difference between truth and lies.
Harper touched my chest. "We can still have a small ceremony next month. After she calms down."
A cold sensation settled in my stomach. "My mother is hurt, and you're scheduling another wedding?"
Harper stared, then turned away. "I don't know what else you want from me."
"The truth."
She pulled off her veil and left without answering.
An hour later, Dad showed me the photograph from Mom's phone. It wasn't of the wedding. It was a close-up of a blue paper envelope on our dining room table, marked MERCER FOUNDRY - ORIGINALS. The envelope held the ownership papers for the old manufacturing plant my parents had bought after they'd married.
I'd been trying to turn that boarded-up place into a job-training center for kids who needed a second chance. The city council was voting on our community proposal Monday. It was supposed to be the last big thing Mom and Dad built together.
"Why would Harper want those papers?" I asked.
Dad looked at the photo without answering. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded older.
"Because somebody offered thirty-two million dollars for that land."
I stared at him. "You told me the offer was dead."
May you like
"I thought it was."
Then his phone lit up with a message from an unknown number: YOU HAVE UNTIL MONDAY TO MAKE HELEN SIGN.
