Chapter 12 - JESSICA BURNED THE WRONG BOOK.
Alan told Denise to leave the house.
She refused.
“I’m working.”
“You called me whispering.”
“I know.”
“That means you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
Alan said nothing.
Denise exhaled.
“Fine. I’m a little scared.”
“What is Mom doing?”
“She came home twenty minutes ago.”
“Then?”
“Went straight upstairs.”
“Where?”
“Office.”
Alan looked at Joey.
“Is there a fireplace?”
“Yes.”
“Is it on?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Wait.”
Alan heard footsteps through the phone.
Then Denise whispered, “Now it is.”
Alan closed his eyes.
“Do not go in there.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not photograph her. Do not confront her.”
“Alan, I am not you.”
Under different circumstances, that might have been funny.
“Just leave.”
“I need my purse.”
“Get your purse and leave.”
Denise went silent.
Then said, “She just carried something into the hall.”
“What?”
“Black.”
Alan’s stomach tightened.
“Notebook?”
“I can’t tell.”
A door closed.
Denise whispered, “I’m going.”
The call ended.
Alan looked at Joey.
“We are not driving over there.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Even if she burns it.”
“I know.”
Alan sat down.
He hated every second of doing nothing.
But if Jessica wanted to destroy a notebook inside her own home, Alan had no right to storm through the door and physically stop her.
More importantly, the notebook might prove nothing.
He reminded himself of that repeatedly.
An unknown list.
Letters.
Expenses.
Not magic evidence.
Not the answer to everything.
Twenty-five minutes later Denise called again.
“I’m at the grocery store.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She burned something.”
“Did you see what?”
“Not clearly.”
“Then don’t guess.”
Denise paused.
“You’ve changed.”
“No.”
“You definitely have.”
“What did you see?”
“Pages.”
“Anything readable?”
“No.”
“Cover?”
“Black.”
Alan looked at Joey.
“Okay.”
Denise continued.
“She put the cover in too.”
“Did you see writing?”
“No.”
“Then all we know is she burned a black notebook.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not going over there?”
“No.”
Denise seemed relieved.
“Good.”
That night Jessica sent Alan a message.
IF YOU CONTINUE CONTACTING PEOPLE ABOUT PRIVATE FAMILY MATTERS, I WILL HAVE TO PROTECT MYSELF.
Alan showed Joey.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
The next morning they found out.
A certified letter arrived at the hotel.
Alan had no idea how Jessica knew which hotel they were staying in until he remembered he had used the family rewards account.
The letter came from a local attorney.
It was not a lawsuit.
It was not an arrest threat.
It was a demand.
Stop entering Jessica’s property without permission.
Return any keys.
Do not contact household employees during work hours.
Communicate about remaining belongings through counsel.
Alan read it twice.
Joey sat beside him.
“She has a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t.”
“Not yet.”
Her face tightened.
“Alan, lawyers cost money.”
“I know.”
“We’re already paying for the hotel.”
“I know.”
“My treatment—”
“Mostly covered.”
“Mostly.”
He looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
She stared at the letter.
“I’m saying this is how she wins.”
Alan understood.
Jessica did not need to be right.
She needed to make disagreement expensive.
Hotel rooms.
Transportation.
Attorney consultations.
Time away from work.
Stress before treatment.
The wealth difference had finally left the marble house and entered their bank account.
Alan called three attorneys.
The first consultation fee was $450.
The second office said the earliest appointment was ten days away.
The third spoke to him for fifteen minutes without charge.
“What outcome do you want?” the attorney asked.
Alan paused.
He had prepared facts.
Not that question.
“My wife’s documents.”
“Anything else?”
“Our property.”
“Anything else?”
Alan looked at Joey.
She was watching him.
“No.”
“You don’t want money?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to sue?”
“I don’t know that there’s anything to sue over.”
“Good answer.”
The attorney asked questions.
Was Joey physically prevented from leaving?
No.
Was money taken from her?
Not directly.
Were her documents intentionally withheld?
Unclear.
Was there a written lease?
No.
Any threats of physical harm?
No.
Any medical neglect by a legal caregiver?
Jessica was not formally appointed.
The attorney was careful.
“This may be deeply unhealthy family behavior without fitting the dramatic legal categories people imagine.”
Alan appreciated that.
“What can we do?”
“Document property.”
“Okay.”
“Request documents in writing.”
“Done.”
“Do not enter the house without permission.”
“Fine.”
“Do not threaten.”
“I haven’t.”
“Keep it that way.”
“What about the notebook?”
“What notebook?”
Alan explained.
The attorney stopped him.
“Did you own it?”
“No.”
“Do you know what was inside?”
“No.”
“Then forget the notebook unless independent evidence makes it relevant.”
That was frustrating.
Also correct.
After the call, Joey said, “I like him.”
“Because he told me no?”
“Mostly.”
Alan smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
Karen.
She had sent a photograph.
Alan opened it.
A black notebook.
“Where did you get this?”
Karen replied:
I TOOK THIS AT THANKSGIVING TWO YEARS AGO BECAUSE I LIKED MOM’S TABLE SETUP.
Alan zoomed in.
The notebook lay open near a stack of place cards.
Most of the writing was too small.
But several names were visible.
REBECCA.
MARK.
KAREN.
Then lower down:
JOEY.
Beside Joey’s name were three letters.
G.
U.
F.
Same as Rebecca.
Alan called Karen.
“What do those letters mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mom use them for everybody?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at the photograph.”
Alan zoomed.
Some names had only G.
Some U.
Some F.
A few had combinations.
Rebecca and Joey both had all three.
“What are they?”
Karen sounded nervous.
“I might know one.”
“Which?”
“G.”
Alan waited.
“Guest.”
“Why?”
“She used to mark guest seating with G.”
“What about U?”
“I don’t know.”
“F?”
Karen went silent.
“Karen.”
“I don’t know.”
“You thought something.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Tell me the thought.”
Karen sighed.
“Family.”
Alan stared at the photograph.
Guest.
Unknown.
Family.
Joey and Rebecca had both been marked G, U, F.
That made no sense.
Unless the letters did not describe what they were.
Maybe they described what Jessica believed they were allowed to be.
Later that afternoon Denise called.
Her voice sounded strange.
“I found something.”
Alan sat straighter.
“What?”
“In the fireplace.”
“I told you not to—”
“I wasn’t looking.”
“What did you find?”
“The cleaner was emptying ash.”
Alan waited.
“One page didn’t burn.”
“From the notebook?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t take it.”
“I didn’t.”
“What does it say?”
Denise hesitated.
Then read the surviving line.
“Joey — G until she proves F.”
Alan felt something drop in his chest.
Guest until she proves family.
Denise whispered, “There’s another line.”
May you like
“What?”
“Rebecca — failed.”
