Chapter 9 - The Retreat That Never Existed
“THIS BUILDING ISN'T READY FOR GUESTS, EMMA. HALF THE ROOMS CAN'T EVEN BE USED. YOUR SISTER HAS BEEN SELLING PEOPLE SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T EXIST.”
The real estate agent's words echoed through the empty hallway of Sable Point Lodge.
It was December 7.
I had traveled to Port Townsend with Marcy's approval after arranging a legitimate property tour through the seller's agent.
Naomi joined us.
I wanted to see the place Lena had used to convince my parents and several strangers that they were investing in something extraordinary.
The reality was almost unbearable.
The promotional materials showed beautiful windows overlooking sparkling water.
They showed luxurious bedrooms.
A peaceful meditation room.
A landscaped garden.
An outdoor dining terrace.
The actual property looked abandoned.
The front steps sagged.
Water stains covered the ceiling of the entrance hall.
A musty smell filled several downstairs rooms.
Plastic sheeting covered damaged sections of the roof.
I stood in the middle of what the brochure called the Grand Wellness Lounge.
There were no elegant furnishings.
No chandeliers.
No carefully arranged flowers.
Just dusty floors, exposed wiring in a closed-off section, and a view of gray water through dirty windows.
Naomi stood beside me.
“I told her she needed to stop using the renderings.”
“What did she say?”
“She said investors didn't need to see the ugly parts.”
I looked around.
The ugly parts were almost everything.
The seller's agent, Karen Ellis, led us toward a safe, accessible portion of the building.
She explained that the property had been marketed as a redevelopment opportunity.
The seller had never claimed it was ready for guests.
Any buyer would need substantial renovation capital and proper approvals before opening a commercial retreat.
“Did Lena know all of this?” I asked.
Karen nodded.
“She received the inspection reports and contractor estimates.”
“And she still described it as nearly operational?”
Karen looked uncomfortable.
“That wasn't information the seller authorized her to represent.”
We stepped onto a covered porch overlooking the shoreline.
For a moment, I could understand why Lena had wanted this place.
The view was beautiful.
The sea moved quietly against the rocks.
Pine trees stood above the beach.
With enough money and responsible planning, the property might have become something special.
But Lena had confused wanting something with owning it.
And she'd confused imagining success with earning it.
I thought of June Miller.
Her years of nursing.
Her savings.
The hope that she'd found a meaningful investment.
Then I thought of my parents.
The home they'd nearly lost.
The property Grandma Ruth had left them.
The two enormous financial decisions they'd made because Lena promised extraordinary results.
And finally, I thought of myself.
The daughter whose hard-earned security had been treated as an unlimited resource.
“Did Lena ever complete the purchase?” I asked.
Karen shook her head.
“No. The contract was conditional, and the transaction hasn't closed.”
“How much money is in escrow?”
“Your attorney has the relevant figures through the proper channels. I can't disclose private transaction details beyond what the parties have authorized.”
I nodded.
Marcy had already informed me that approximately $198,000 from Lena's business had been placed into a licensed escrow account connected with the proposed purchase.
The funds hadn't been released to the seller.
That meant at least part of the money might still be traceable and potentially recoverable through the appropriate legal process.
But it also meant Lena knew there was money sitting somewhere she might try to reclaim.
After the tour, Naomi and I sat at a small waterfront café.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she said:
“I used to believe Lena.”
I looked up.
“She was convincing?”
“Very.”
Naomi stirred her tea.
“She knew exactly what people wanted to hear. When the staff complained about unpaid invoices, she talked about future bonuses. When investors asked about repairs, she talked about vision.”
“And when you asked about the numbers?”
“She said I was too negative.”
I stared at the harbor.
“That's how my family has always worked.”
Naomi looked at me.
“Really?”
“If Lena makes an impossible promise, everyone praises her ambition. If I point out the problem, I'm unsupportive.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile.
“I've worked for people like that.”
I hesitated.
“Why didn't you leave sooner?”
She looked down at her hands.
“Because I wanted it to be real.”
Her answer surprised me.
She wasn't describing greed.
She was describing hope.
The same hope that had kept my parents giving Lena money.
The same hope that had persuaded June to invest.
Perhaps even the same hope that had kept me rescuing my family for fifteen years.
We all wanted to believe that the next promise would be different.
Naomi continued.
“I liked the idea of a retreat for caregivers. My mother spent her final years working in assisted living. She deserved somewhere peaceful.”
I nodded.
“So did June.”
“That's why I stayed longer than I should have.”
I looked toward the water.
The problem wasn't that the dream was meaningless.
The problem was that Lena had used a meaningful dream to excuse dishonesty.
That afternoon, Marcy called.
She had received information about the reserve account listed in June's investment agreement.
The institution named in the document had no record of an account in my name matching the details provided.
The supposed account balance couldn't be verified.
The guarantee appeared to describe financial reserves that hadn't been established.
“Can we prove Lena created it?” I asked.
“Not yet. But we have enough concerns to provide the document to investigators and request the underlying records.”
I glanced at Naomi.
She was watching me quietly.
“And the escrow money?”
“That's why I'm calling.”
Marcy paused.
“The escrow holder has received instructions requesting a return of the purchase deposit.”
“From Lena?”
“From the purchasing company. The instructions include documents supposedly authorized by you.”
I closed my eyes.
My name.
Again.
“What happens if the money is released?”
“That depends on the contract and the escrow instructions. The holder has been informed of the dispute, and we're seeking to preserve the funds.”
“Has Lena already received anything?”
“Not from that request, as far as we currently know.”
I exhaled.
Then Marcy added:
“Emma, there's a deadline attached to the proposed release.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I stared at the gray water.
Somewhere behind me, a fishing boat sounded its horn.
My sister had already diverted more than a million dollars from my parents.
Now she was attempting to move another large amount through a business that existed, on paper, partly in my name.
May you like
And for the first time since Thanksgiving, I understood what might happen if we moved too slowly.
The money wasn't simply missing. Lena was still trying to move what remained.
