Chapter 1 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN’T MINE
My daughter slapped me because I refused to babysit forty-eight hours after eye surgery.
I was sixty-eight years old and standing in Caroline’s kitchen in Dublin, Ohio, wearing the beige robe she always complained made me look “ancient.”
“My surgeon said no lifting, no driving, and no chasing children around all weekend.”
Caroline’s expression hardened.
“If you won’t sacrifice for my kids, you’re a useless mother!”
Her palm struck my cheek.
I stared at her.
Before I could leave, Nathan stepped between me and the hallway.
“Move.”
Instead, my son-in-law grabbed my arm, twisted me toward him, and shoved me down.
My hip struck the floor.
Nathan leaned over me.
“Stop playing victim. You exist when this family needs something.”
Caroline threw my purse across the room.
Something inside me finally went quiet.
I pushed myself upright, grabbed my purse, knocked Nathan’s reaching hand away, and walked out.
Neither apologized.
For seven days, I did not answer their calls.
Then, at 7:03 the following Saturday morning, someone began pounding on my front door.
Nathan stood outside in a blue shirt, breathing hard.
Caroline was behind him, pale and shaking.
He shoved a bank envelope toward me.
“The bank found a nineteen-thousand-dollar loan in your name.”
“Found?”
Nathan looked at Caroline.
She would not meet my eyes.
I opened the envelope.
The loan amount was $19,400.
Borrower: Margaret Hale.
My address.
My Social Security number.
My former employer.
And beneath the agreement was a signature resembling mine closely enough to fool a stranger.
Caroline suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“Mom, give me that.”
I tore free.
“Why are you terrified of me opening my own loan file?”
Nathan caught Caroline’s arm.
“Let’s go.”
I looked at the signature again.
Then at my daughter.
Three weeks earlier, Caroline had spent an entire afternoon at my house helping me organize the identification documents I needed for cataract surgery.
My driver’s license.
Insurance information.
Tax records.
May you like
A utility statement.
Everything someone would need to pretend to be me.
