Chapter 3 - THE FIRST CALL BROOKE DIDN’T WANT HER TO MAKE
Rachel photographed every page.
Then she called the notary.
Brooke kept knocking outside.
Rachel ignored her.
The notary, Melissa Crane, answered on the fourth ring.
Rachel identified herself.
There was a pause after she explained why she was calling.
“I’m going to be careful here,” Melissa said. “Are you saying you did not sign the power of attorney dated March fourteenth?”
“I’m saying I’ve never met you.”
Another pause.
“Ms. Bennett, I can’t discuss another person’s transaction casually. But if you’re disputing a notarization under your name, you should put that in writing immediately.”
“Was I physically present?”
“I need to review my journal.”
Rachel looked at Elaine.
“Please do.”
Melissa’s voice became more formal.
“And you should contact an attorney.”
Rachel ended the call.
Outside, Brooke stopped knocking.
A message arrived instead.
You have no idea what Mom agreed to.
Rachel showed it to Elaine.
Her mother read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Elaine stood.
“I should go talk to her.”
“No.”
“She’s my daughter too.”
“And I’m the one whose name is on a document I never signed.”
Elaine turned toward her.
Rachel softened her voice without changing the boundary.
“You don’t have to choose between us. But you do have to stop carrying information from one of us to the other.”
Elaine looked offended.
“I was trying to keep peace.”
Rachel almost laughed.
Brooke had used that instinct for years.
Whenever the sisters fought, Elaine mediated instead of asking who had caused what.
When Brooke borrowed money and paid late, Elaine asked Rachel not to embarrass her.
When Brooke’s real-estate career took off, Elaine insisted Rachel celebrate every milestone even though Brooke barely acknowledged Rachel’s own promotion at a consulting firm.
Peace usually meant Rachel absorbing the inconvenience.
Her phone rang.
Melissa.
Rachel answered.
The notary sounded different now.
“I found the journal entry.”
Rachel sat straighter.
“And?”
“The signer presented an Illinois driver’s license in your name.”
Rachel’s mouth went dry.
“My license is in my wallet.”
“Was it always?”
Rachel thought back.
Three weeks earlier, Brooke had borrowed Rachel’s car after her own Mercedes went into the shop.
The registration and emergency card were in the glove compartment.
But not Rachel’s license.
Then she remembered the Saturday before surgery.
Brooke had insisted on organizing Rachel’s purse because Rachel was on crutches.
For almost twenty minutes, Rachel’s wallet had been in Brooke’s hands.
Melissa continued.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The signer was wearing a face mask.”
Rachel stared toward the locked front door.
Brooke and Rachel were sisters.
Same height within an inch.
Similar jawline.
Similar coloring before Brooke went platinum.
Melissa said quietly, “I think you need to speak to counsel before I say anything more.”
Rachel agreed.
Then she opened her wallet.
May you like
Her driver’s license was there.
But the card felt newer than she remembered.
