PART4

“We received additional information from the lender.”

My stomach tightened.

“What information?”

“The renovation expenses weren’t limited to the $38,000 on your credit account.”

I gripped the edge of the table.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s evidence that Travis submitted your lake house as collateral when applying for additional financing.”

I stared at the phone.

“He did what?”

“I’m still verifying the paperwork. But the application appears to identify him as the owner of the property.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.

Then Caroline continued.

“There is something else. The loan application includes a document purporting to show that you approved the arrangement.”

“Did I sign it?”

“We’re checking that now.”

My hands began to shake.

I had trusted my son with emergency paperwork.

I had never given him permission to borrow against my home.

“Caroline, I want everything investigated.”

“I understand. Don’t contact him about this yet. Let us preserve the evidence and handle the appropriate notices.”

After the call, I sat quietly.

I thought about all the summers Gerald and I had spent at Lake Hartwell.

The fishing mornings.

The Christmas decorations we had stored in the attic.

The little wooden bench Gerald had built beside the water.

I remembered Travis as a little boy running down the dock, shouting that he had caught the biggest fish in the lake.

I remembered paying for his college books.

Helping him buy his first car.

Sending money when he lost his job.

And I remembered something Gerald had told me shortly before he died.

“Beverly, help our son whenever he needs it. But never let him believe that love means he never has to be responsible for his choices.”

I finally understood why those words mattered.

That evening, Travis appeared at my front door.

He didn’t call first.

Diane happened to be visiting and heard the doorbell.

When I opened the door, my son stood there with his wife, Kelsey.

He looked exhausted.

His shirt was wrinkled, his hair uncombed, and his expression was a mixture of anger and desperation.

“Mom, we need to talk.”

I stepped aside, but I didn’t offer him a hug.

He noticed.

“Seriously? You’re going to treat me like a stranger?”

“You’ve been treating me like one for quite some time.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes.

“Can we please stop with the drama? My parents are extremely stressed.”

I looked at her.

“I’m sorry they’re stressed. But I didn’t invite them to live in my home.”

“They’ve already moved everything!”

“Then they’ll have to make arrangements.”

Travis rubbed his forehead.

“Mom, the bank is asking questions. The contractors are demanding payment. Everything is falling apart.”

I looked directly at him.

“Then explain why you used my name.”

He froze.

Kelsey turned toward him.

“What is she talking about?”

Travis didn’t answer.

I continued.

“Caroline has the loan documents. She also has the deed, the credit statements, and the social media posts.”

Kelsey suddenly stopped looking annoyed.

“What loan documents?”

Travis gave her a warning glance.

“Not now, Kelsey.”

But I had already seen the expression on her face.

She knew something.

And perhaps she knew more than I did.

“Travis,” I said quietly, “did you tell your wife that you had my permission to transfer the house?”

He stared at the floor.

“Mom, I was trying to help everyone.”

“No. You were trying to make decisions with something that didn’t belong to you.”

He stepped closer.

“Please. Just tell Caroline to stop. We can fix this privately.”

I looked at my son for a long moment.

Then I asked the question I had been holding inside for days.

“Travis, if I hadn’t checked my account, would you ever have told me?”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

And that silence told me more than any confession could have.

But just as I thought the conversation was over, Kelsey reached into her purse.

She pulled out a folded document.

“Actually,” she said, placing it on the table, “there’s something your mother needs to see.”

Travis turned toward her.

“Kelsey, don’t.”

She ignored him.

Then she unfolded the paper and slid it toward me.

At the top was the name of my lake house.

Beneath it was a financial figure.

$425,000

I looked up.

“What is this?”

Kelsey swallowed.

“That’s what your son told my parents the house was worth. But that’s not why I’m showing you this.”

She pointed to the bottom of the page.

There was a second signature.

Not mine.

Not Travis’s.

And beside it was a date from two months before my surgery.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Because the document suggested that someone had been planning to sell my lake house long before Patricia and Robert ever moved in.

And when I looked at Travis, he finally whispered:

“Mom, please don’t ask who arranged the meeting.”

But I already knew that whatever happened next would change our family forever.

THE TRUTH THAT DESTROYED MY SON’S PLAN

For several seconds, nobody moved.

The document lay on my kitchen table between us.

I looked at the signature again.

It belonged to a real estate broker named Michael Reynolds. I recognized his name because he had once helped Gerald and me estimate the value of the lake house when we considered selling it years earlier.

But we had never hired him.

I slowly turned toward Travis.

“Who arranged this meeting?”

He rubbed both hands over his face.

“Mom, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“Then tell me how it was supposed to happen.”

Kelsey crossed her arms.

“Your son told my parents the house was going to become ours. He said the paperwork was already being handled and that there would be no problem.”

I looked at her.

“And you believed him?”

“Of course I did. He’s my husband.”

“I’m his mother. I raised him. I trusted him. Apparently, that wasn’t enough to make him tell me the truth.”

Travis suddenly raised his voice.

“Can everyone stop acting like I’m some criminal? I was trying to help my family!”

I looked at him calmly.

“You have a family, Travis. So do I. And I’m still part of mine.”

He looked away.

Then I picked up the document.

“I’m keeping this.”

He reached toward it.

“Mom—”

I pulled it back.

“Don’t.”

It was the first time I had ever used that word against my son.

He stopped.

The following morning, Caroline received the document.

She examined it carefully and immediately contacted the real estate broker.

By the afternoon, we had an answer.

Michael Reynolds confirmed that Travis had contacted him several weeks earlier.

According to Michael, Travis had explained that his mother was preparing to transfer the lake house to him and that the family wanted to understand its market value before making renovations.

Michael had asked to speak with me directly.

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART5…