Chapter 5 - The Debt Behind the Nursing Home
Dylan finally called that evening.
He did not apologize for the cemetery.
He did not mention the slap.
“Mom, Lauren says you’ve been calling people.”
“I called a lawyer.”
A long silence.
“You don’t need a lawyer against your own kids.”
“That’s usually when people need one most.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
Dylan’s voice lowered.
“The company hit a rough patch.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The number.”
He said nothing.
Evelyn continued.
“Four hundred thousand.”
“It’s not four hundred.”
“How much?”
“About three-sixty now.”
“And Lauren guaranteed it.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her husband before she signed?”
“That’s between them.”
“Apparently so is my house.”
Dylan became defensive.
The landscaping company had expanded into municipal contracts.
He had financed equipment.
Then two large contracts were delayed and one client disputed payment.
Interest climbed.
Cash flow tightened.
Lauren had guaranteed the loan because she believed a refinancing deal would solve it.
It hadn’t.
“But that still doesn’t explain why you need our house.”
Dylan answered too quickly.
“We weren’t taking it.”
“You created an LLC you control.”
“For estate planning.”
“You prepared a deed.”
“So the house could be managed if you needed care.”
“And you bought our headstones.”
Silence.
That part still disgusted her.
Dylan finally said, “Lauren thought seeing everything arranged might make this easier.”
“Easier for whom?”
“You’re sitting on almost seven hundred grand in a house you don’t need.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
There it was.
Not your home.
Seven hundred grand.
“You think because we’re older, anything we aren’t spending belongs to you.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
Dylan’s voice hardened.
“If the business fails, Lauren gets pulled down with me. Families help each other.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“You mean parents help children.”
“You helped us before.”
“And maybe that’s why you think this is normal.”
She hung up.
George was standing in the doorway.
He had heard enough.
Evelyn looked at him.
“Your day is almost over.”
“I know.”
“Tell me about the other graves.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
George swallowed.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked it and went pale.
A message from the cemetery manager.
Mr. Whitmore, Dylan and Lauren are asking who paid for their monuments. They’re threatening legal action. Please call me.
Evelyn read it over his shoulder.
Then she looked at her husband.
“George.”
May you like
He closed his eyes.
“I bought them.”
