window, where the children were sitting with Rebecca.
“Can I see them?”
“They know you’re here.
They aren’t ready to talk today.
I’ll make sure you have a way to reach them, but you need to respect their boundaries.”
Ian looked smaller than I’d ever seen him.
I closed the door.
Sunday afternoon, Judith called from Frank’s phone.
I answered because I wanted to hear whether she would finally tell the truth.
“Mara, I never wanted any of this,” she began.
“Then why did you sign a witness declaration?”
Silence.
“Judith?”
“Ian told me you had already agreed.
He said he needed a witness signature because the broker was being difficult.”
“Did you actually see me sign?”
“No.”
“Then you knew you were saying something that wasn’t true.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“He said the company would fail without the deal.
He said people could lose their jobs.”
For the first time, I heard something other than irritation in her voice.
Fear.
She had believed she was saving her son’s business.
And she’d been willing to sacrifice my father’s property to do it.
“Judith, you knew he was having an affair.
You knew he was going to leave me.
And you still expected me to cook Thanksgiving dinner for everyone while you worked out how to get my signature?”
“I thought we could keep the family together until things settled.”
“You weren’t keeping the family together.
You were keeping me uninformed.”
She began crying.
I didn’t comfort her.
Instead, I told her to speak honestly with Rachel about the document and to obtain her own legal advice.
Then I ended the call.
Monday morning arrived cold and gray.
By then, Rachel had notified the broker and the buyer’s attorney that I disputed the authorization and would not approve the proposed sale.
The planned signing could not proceed on the terms Ian had promised.
But Sloane’s attorney requested a meeting to clarify the status of the project and the loan.
Rachel agreed that we could attend, provided it was clear I was not there to negotiate away my property.
I arrived at the conference room shortly after ten.
Ian was already seated beside Sloane.
Judith sat farther down the table with Frank.
A stack of documents lay in the center.
Sloane looked nothing like the glamorous monster I’d imagined.
She appeared exhausted.
Her blond hair was pulled into a tight knot, and she kept twisting a silver ring around one finger.
I didn’t feel sorry for her.
But I could see that the financial consequences were real.
Rachel placed our documents on the table.
“Before discussing anything else,” she said, “my client needs the record to reflect that she did not authorize the sale or the use of her signature.
She is not signing a purchase agreement today.”
Ian leaned forward.
“Mara, please.”
Rachel continued calmly.
“We have preserved the disputed authorization, the earlier document from which the signature may have been copied, and the related correspondence.
We are requesting complete copies of all transaction materials.”
Sloane’s attorney looked toward Ian.
“You represented that Mrs.
Ellis had agreed.”
“She was considering it,” Ian muttered.
“No,” I said.
“I wasn’t.”
Sloane turned toward him.
“You told me she was signing Monday.
You said this was settled.”
“It would have been if she
