Chapter 2 - The Name My Mother Never Explained
I pressed the phone tighter against my ear.
“What do you mean she doesn’t own it?”
“Not over the phone,” Benjamin said. “How long ago did she put you outside?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“Did she remove your belongings?”
“Yes.”
“Take pictures. Everything. The suitcase, the clothes, the front door, the time on your phone. Do not get into a fight with her.”
“I’m not trying to fight.”
“Good. Because she may be.”
That sentence made me look at the upstairs windows.
A curtain moved.
Vanessa’s son, Kyle, was standing in the guest room.
He was twenty-seven, six-foot-two, and had spent the last three years acting like my father’s house had somehow become his private club.
The curtain fell closed.
I took pictures.
Rain ran into my eyes. My funeral shoes were filling with water. I felt ridiculous, miserable, and angry enough to scream.
Instead, I picked up my clothes one piece at a time.
My mother used to say grief made people honest.
She was wrong.
Sometimes grief just showed you who had been waiting for you to become weak.
“What did my mom tell you?” I asked.
Benjamin was quiet for a moment.
“She told me to expect your call.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
My chest tightened.
Three weeks ago, Mom could barely sit up without help.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She was trying to keep you focused on her. She knew what Vanessa was doing.”
“What was she doing?”
Before he could answer, the porch door opened again.
Vanessa stepped out holding a large black trash bag.
She dropped it beside my suitcase.
I stared at it.
“What’s that?”
“The rest of your bathroom things.”
“You put my stuff in a garbage bag?”
“It’s dry.”
“Very thoughtful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you leaving or not?”
I lifted the phone. “I’m talking to a lawyer.”
For the first time, fear flashed across her face.
It disappeared fast, but I saw it.
“What lawyer?”
“Benjamin Clarke.”
The blood drained from her cheeks.
I almost forgot the rain.
Kyle opened the door behind her.
“Mom?”
Vanessa did not answer him.
She stared at me.
“Who gave you that name?”
“My mother.”
Her jaw clenched.
Then she walked down the porch steps until she was close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume through the rain.
“Grace, listen to me. You’re emotional. Your mother just died. Someone is taking advantage of you.”
“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”
Her expression hardened.
“Your father left me this home.”
“Then why are you scared of a lawyer?”
“I’m not scared.”
My phone was still connected.
Benjamin spoke loudly enough for her to hear.
“Ms. Holloway, tell Vanessa Clarke & Pierce still has the executed 2019 estate memorandum.”
Vanessa froze.
I repeated it anyway.
“Benjamin says they still have the executed 2019 estate memorandum.”
Kyle looked at his mother.
“What’s that?”
Vanessa snapped, “Go inside.”
“Mom—”
“Inside.”
He disappeared.
Vanessa leaned toward me.
“That document is meaningless.”
Benjamin heard her.
“Ask her why she tried to have it withdrawn from probate.”
I felt cold in a way the rain could not explain.
I stared at Vanessa.
“Why did you try to have it withdrawn?”
She said nothing.
The headlights of a dark sedan appeared at the end of the driveway.
Benjamin said, “That’s me.”
Vanessa turned toward the car.
Then, without warning, she grabbed the eviction notice from the porch table, ripped it in half, and shoved the pieces into her coat.
I watched every move.
Benjamin stepped out of the sedan carrying a leather briefcase.
He was in his sixties, silver-haired, calm, and clearly not impressed by the weather.
He walked straight toward us.
“Vanessa.”
She lifted her chin. “Ben.”
So they knew each other.
That was surprise number one.
Surprise number two came when Benjamin opened his briefcase and handed her a single page.
Vanessa read it.
Her hand started shaking.
“What is this?” I asked.
Benjamin looked at me.
“A notice of trust enforcement.”
Vanessa’s eyes shot up.
“You can’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “Thomas did.”
May you like
Then he pointed toward the house.
“And according to the clause you just violated, if you removed Grace from the residence before her twenty-fifth birthday, your right to live here may have ended the moment her suitcase hit the driveway.”
