Chapter 6 - THE REAL REASON BEVERLY MOVED IN
“She's been talking to an attorney about my children?”
I read the message aloud.
Dad looked up from the dining table.
“Who said that?”
“One of Ethan's cousins.”
Owen, who had returned to help review the financial documents, leaned forward.
“Lauren, don't assume that a relative's comment means a legal action has been filed.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“But save the conversation.”
“I already have.”
He gave a small approving nod.
I had started keeping a folder.
Photographs.
Messages.
Bank records.
Dates and times.
Not because I wanted revenge.
But because I was beginning to understand how easily someone could rewrite a story when the other person was too exhausted to defend herself.
Owen explained that Beverly couldn't simply declare herself the twins' guardian.
The girls had two legal parents.
Any attempt to change custody or guardianship would involve an actual legal process, not a grandmother's opinion or a few dramatic messages.
That knowledge comforted me.
But it didn't make Beverly's behavior less disturbing.
“She wants control,” I whispered.
Dad looked at me.
“Then don't give it to her.”
I stared down at the photograph.
“She seems willing to do anything.”
“Which is why we need to understand what she's trying to accomplish.”
Caleb arrived that afternoon with another set of records.
He had spent the morning examining the finances of Whitmore Homeworks using information Ethan had agreed to provide.
The picture was worse than I expected.
My husband's company wasn't experiencing a temporary cash-flow problem.
It was drowning.
Ethan had borrowed money to expand the business eighteen months earlier.
He'd purchased additional equipment, hired more workers, and leased a larger workshop.
Then two major renovation contracts had collapsed.
A customer disputed thousands of dollars in charges.
Another failed to pay on schedule.
Ethan had used credit to cover expenses while waiting for money that never arrived.
Then he'd borrowed more.
At some point, the numbers stopped working.
Caleb placed a summary in front of me.
“Based on what we've reviewed, the business has obligations approaching a hundred and ninety thousand dollars.”
I stared at the figure.
“A hundred and ninety thousand?”
He nodded.
“That includes business loans, vendor balances, and some unpaid payroll.”
I looked up sharply.
“Unpaid payroll?”
“Some employees are owed money.”
I pressed my fingertips against my forehead.
I had known Ethan was proud.
I had known he struggled to admit mistakes.
But I hadn't understood how much he'd been hiding.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Caleb hesitated.
“I can't answer that.”
Dad leaned back.
“Can he realistically recover?”
“Possibly through restructuring or selling assets, but not by continuing to borrow blindly.”
I thought about the home-equity application.
Two hundred and fifteen thousand dollars.
Suddenly, the amount made horrible sense.
Ethan had wanted my house to become the solution to his business problems.
But something still bothered me.
“What does Beverly have to do with any of this?”
Caleb opened another folder.
“That's the interesting part.”
He showed me several transfers from Ethan's business account to B.W. Property Services.
Some were labeled consulting fees.
Others were called reimbursements.
None had obvious supporting invoices.
“Your mother-in-law's company appears to have received significant payments while Ethan's business was struggling.”
I stared at the page.
“How significant?”
“We're still verifying the full amount. But at least thirty thousand dollars passed through that account over several months.”
Dad's expression darkened.
“Was she actually providing services?”
“That's one of the questions we need answered.”
I looked toward the window.
For years, Beverly had spoken about money as if she were the only financially responsible person in our family.
She criticized people who rented.
She complained about government assistance.
She mocked anyone who couldn't afford expensive groceries.
And yet she had apparently been receiving money from a struggling business while lecturing me about responsibility.
I asked Caleb to continue.
He hesitated.
“There's another matter.”
Something about his tone made me sit straighter.
“What?”
He placed a public-record notice on the table.
It concerned Beverly's house.
The house where she had lived for nearly twenty years.
The property she always described as her greatest achievement.
I read the heading.
Then I read it again.
A foreclosure sale had been scheduled.
I looked up.
“Beverly is losing her house?”
Dad nodded slowly.
“That appears to be the situation.”
I checked the date.
The sale was scheduled for the following Friday.
Eight days away.
Suddenly, everything connected.
Her clothes in my closet.
Her skincare products in my bathroom.
Her belongings in the nursery.
She hadn't moved in to help us with the twins.
She had moved in because she was losing her own home.
And rather than admit that, she had convinced Ethan to let her claim mine.
I felt an unexpected stab of sadness.
Nobody deserved to feel terrified of losing a home.
Even Beverly.
But compassion didn't erase what she'd done.
I reached for my phone.
This time, I called Ethan directly.
He answered on the third ring.
“Lauren?”
“Your mother is losing her house.”
Silence.
“Isn't she?”
He exhaled heavily.
“How did you find out?”
“Public records.”
He muttered something under his breath.
Then he said:
“She was embarrassed.”
I closed my eyes.
“So you moved her into our bedroom?”
“She needed help.”
“And instead of discussing it with me, you decided she could take over?”
“I thought it would only be temporary.”
“Then why did she unpack everything?”
He didn't answer.
“Ethan, did you know her house was scheduled for foreclosure?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
He hesitated.
“Since August.”
I glanced down at the notice.
It was October.
“And that's why you wanted the loan?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
He sounded exhausted.
“I thought if I could stabilize the business, I could help Mom too.”
I stared at the wall.
“And you were going to do that by risking my house?”
“I thought I'd pay everything back.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
I took a slow breath.
“Ethan, wanting to repay something doesn't give you permission to take it.”
He said nothing.
After we ended the call, I returned to Caleb's paperwork.
Something about the dates bothered me.
I examined the foreclosure notice again.
Then I looked at the oldest payment records from Beverly's company.
My eyes stopped on a date.
Three months before my twins were born.
I felt cold.
“Dad?”
He looked up.
“What is it?”
I pointed at the records.
“Beverly knew she was in trouble long before I went into labor.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“And the first transfers from Ethan's business to her company started months before that.”
Dad studied the pages.
Then he slowly nodded.
I looked toward the photograph of my disrupted nursery.
This hadn't started when I went into the hospital.
The groundwork had been laid long before.
And suddenly, I remembered Beverly asking me one evening whether I ever worried about something happening to me during childbirth.
At the time, I'd thought she was expressing concern.
Now I wondered whether she had been trying to calculate how much control Ethan might gain if I became unable to make decisions.
Then Dad found something tucked behind the foreclosure notice.
It was a copy of the original notice mailed to Beverly.
The date was three months old.
Long before my hospital stay.
Long before she'd claimed she only needed somewhere to stay for a few days.
May you like
And beside the date was a handwritten note.
Ask Ethan about Lauren's equity.
