Khloe came to the rental the next morning carrying an overnight bag.
Mom saw her through the front window.
Her hand froze on the curtain.
"Is she leaving him?"
"I don't know."
Khloe knocked once.
When I opened the door, she looked as though she had barely slept.
Mom stood behind me.
For one second Khloe hesitated.
Then she crossed the room and folded into her mother's arms.
I looked away.
Whatever else had happened, whatever money had been spent and whatever excuses had been made, Khloe was still Mom's daughter.
They sat together on the sofa.
The overnight bag remained upright beside Khloe's feet.
"I confronted Julian about the credit card," she said.
Mom's hands tightened in her lap.
"What did he say?"
Khloe looked at her.
"He said you agreed to it."
"I didn't."
"I told him that."
Mom's face went pale.
"And?"
"He said maybe you forgot."
The sentence hung in the room.
There it was again.
The explanation Julian could use whenever Mom's memory conflicted with his.
Maybe you forgot.
Mom looked down.
"Maybe I—"
"Stop," Khloe said.
Mom looked up.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Trying to find a way this can be your fault."
Mom blinked.
Khloe wiped her palms on her jeans.
"I asked him why the card existed. He said his business needed startup money."
I sat opposite her.
"And Mom's credit was the solution?"
"He said it would eventually benefit the household."
"Eventually."
Khloe looked at me. "I know."
Mom spoke quietly.
"Did he use my Social Security number?"
Khloe closed her eyes.
"I think so."
Mom leaned back.
The hurt on her face was different from what I had seen at the bank. Less confusion now. More recognition.
"What else did he say?" I asked.
Khloe stared at the overnight bag.
"He got angry because I photographed the folder."
"How angry?"
"He said I betrayed him."
"And then?"
"He reminded me I used Mom's other credit card too."
Mom flinched.
Khloe continued.
"He said if he goes down, I go down."
I leaned forward. "Those exact words?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what he meant?"
"No."
"Did he say you knew about the second card?"
"No."
"Did you?"
Khloe looked at Mom.
"Not that it was yours."
Mom studied her daughter.
"But you used the other one."
Khloe swallowed.
"Yes."
No excuse followed.
No grocery story.
No argument about how much help she had provided.
"I did."
Mom's voice stayed quiet. "What did you buy?"
"Groceries at first."
Khloe's eyes filled.
"Gas. Then clothes. Restaurants. Things I wanted."
"Did you think I wanted to pay for those things?"
Khloe's chin trembled.
"No."
"Then why did you do it?"
The answer took a long time.
"Because it was easy."
Mom looked away.
Khloe wiped her cheeks.
"I didn't have to ask whether Julian and I could afford something. He'd say there was money in the household account. I'd use the card."
"And when I asked?"
"He explained it."
"And you?"
Khloe stared at her hands.
"I pretended I believed him."
That sentence hurt more than another denial would have.
Mom had spent two years thinking Khloe needed her.
In some ways, Khloe had.
Just not in the way Mom had imagined.
"I thought you needed me," Mom said.
"I did."
"Not like this."
"No."
The room went quiet.
It was not my confession to receive, so I let Mom decide what came next.
After a while she asked, "Where is Julian?"
"At the house."
"Are you going back?"
Khloe looked down at the overnight bag.
"No."
Mom's eyes filled.
"You can stay here tonight."
I almost interrupted.
Then Mom looked at me.
It was her decision.
I nodded.
"One night," Khloe said quickly. "I'll find somewhere else after that."
Mom reached for her hand.
Later, we called Harrison.
Khloe explained the folder and showed him the photographs.
He listened without interrupting.
"Do not return to search for anything else," he said. "Preserve only what you already lawfully saw."
"I understand."
"The photographs are useful because they establish that copies of Martha's identifying documents were in Julian's possession."
Mom asked the question that had been sitting behind everything.
"Will he be arrested?"
Harrison paused.
"I can't promise you a criminal outcome. That's not my specialty, and the bank is still investigating. Right now, the important things are correcting the accounts and preserving records."
Mom nodded.
Khloe looked disappointed by the lack of certainty.
I understood.
We all wanted one clean sentence.
Julian did this.
Here is the consequence.
Real life kept giving us paperwork instead.
That evening, Julian called Khloe eleven times.
She ignored every call.
The twelfth came from another number.
Khloe stared at the screen.
"Paul."
"Julian's attorney?" I asked.
She nodded and answered.
Paul's voice was calm enough that we could hear him from where we sat.
He asked whether Khloe had removed any files.
"No."
Documents?
"No."
Devices?
"No."
"Good."
A pause followed.
Then Paul's tone changed.
"Do you have independent counsel regarding the financial matters?"
Khloe frowned.
"No."
"You should consider obtaining it."
She sat straighter.
"So you're not representing me?"
"No."
"You represented us at the meeting."
"I represented Julian regarding the occupancy dispute. I did not agree to represent you in any matter where your interests could conflict."
Khloe's face lost color.
"Conflict with Julian?"
Paul chose each word carefully.
"Your interests and Julian's may not be identical."
The call ended shortly afterward.
Khloe sat motionless.
Mom reached for her hand.
I did not.
Not yet.
Finally Khloe looked at me.
"You were right about him."
"No."
She frowned.
"I wasn't right about everything."
"What does that mean?"
"You still used Mom's money."
Her face tightened.
"Julian may have done things you didn't know about. That doesn't erase the things you did know about."
Khloe looked away.
I continued more quietly.
"You don't need to make him responsible for every choice you made just because you're finally seeing his."
She nodded after a while.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I think I'm starting to."
Mom squeezed her hand.
Khloe looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
Mom did not say it was okay.
That mattered.
She simply answered, "I know."
Later that night, when Mom had gone to bed, Khloe and I sat in the rental kitchen.
She looked exhausted.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"No."
Then she gave a small, humorless laugh.
"But I'm more okay than yesterday."
It was the first honest answer I had heard from her that did not require an explanation afterward.
Near midnight, Harrison emailed.
Julian had contacted him through Paul.
He wanted to renegotiate the move-out deadline.
I called immediately.
"Why?"
"His business records, equipment and mail are still tied to the house."
"That's his problem."
"It is."
"Does he have a legal reason for extending?"
"Nothing new that changes the agreement."
"Then why are we discussing it?"
"Because he asked. The decision belongs to you and Martha."
I looked toward the hallway.
Mom had appeared in her robe.
She had heard enough.
"How much more time does he want?" she asked.
I put Harrison on speaker.
"An extension," Harrison said. "The proposed length can be negotiated."
Mom shook her head.
"No."
I looked at her.
She crossed her arms.
"Mom, you don't have to answer tonight."
"I already know."
Harrison waited.
Mom spoke toward the phone.
"He has the ten days we agreed to."
"Understood."
She turned to go back to bed.
Then she stopped.
"I've already given them two years."
She disappeared down the hallway.
Harrison remained silent for a moment.
"So," I said.
"So," he answered, "the deadline stays."
I looked at Khloe.
She had heard her mother's decision too.
This time she did not defend Julian.
She simply picked up her overnight bag and carried it toward the guest room.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: With Three Days Left, Julian Demanded Twenty-Eight Thousand Dollars, but My Mother Answered Him Before I Could Protect Her
I Returned Early to Surprise My Mother, Then a Stranger at Her Door Sent Me Looking Behind the House
Part 10 of 16
