Chapter 14 - Competent to Say No
My father's petition claimed I couldn't handle financial decisions after Grandma's death. It cited my grief counseling, two missed student loan payments, and a tearful voicemail I'd left him the night Grandma died. There was no diagnosis of incapacity, but the petition had been filed anyway.
"Can he win?" I asked my attorney, Maya Ellis.
"He can try. That's not the same thing. We'll ask the court to scrutinize the factual basis. The most important thing is to answer it carefully, not angrily."
Anger was what I had most of.
At the hearing, Dad sat three seats away with two lawyers. Mom was behind him, hands folded tightly. Claire and Evan sat across the aisle. I refused to look at any of them until the judge called my name.
My father's lawyer described me as financially impulsive, easily influenced, and vulnerable to manipulation by Gabriel. Maya produced my work records, bank history, a neutral professional evaluation I had voluntarily obtained, and evidence that I'd retained independent counsel. She also asked why Dad was requesting control of my design decisions during a dispute in which he stood to profit from those decisions.
The judge turned to Dad's lawyer. "Do you have evidence of functional incapacity beyond the family's disagreement with her choices?"
The lawyer spoke about stress and grief.
"That is not what I asked," the judge said.
I watched Dad's face. He was staring at the table as though a more obedient daughter might appear there.
The petition was denied without prejudice. The judge warned the parties against using the process as leverage in unrelated litigation.
Outside, Mom caught up with me.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Which part?"
"All of it."
"Then put it in writing."
She nodded. "I already have. I gave my statement to the investigators yesterday."
I stopped walking.
"You told them about the May seventeenth call?"
"And the bank transfer. And my signature."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wanted to make one decent choice without asking you to make it easier for me."
For the first time, I believed she might be changing. It didn't erase the gala, but it mattered.
Then a reporter shouted from the courthouse steps, "Mrs. Mercer! Did you know the foundation's former accountant died this morning?"
May you like
Mom grabbed the railing. "What accountant?"
The reporter named Helen Vale, a woman Grandma had once called the only person in Richard's office who checked every total twice.
