She picked up one of my ledgers, scanning the numbers. Her eyebrows went up.
“Lord, Belinda, did you know it was this much?”
“I knew it was a lot, but I didn’t. I didn’t really think about it. I just paid for things as they needed paying.”
“They took advantage of you.”
“Yes, they did.”
Dorothy sat down across from me.
“You know what this means, right? Even if the judge doesn’t rule in your favor about the house, and I think he will, but even if he doesn’t, you’re owed this money. This is a debt.”
“I never thought of it that way. I was just helping my son.”
“Well, now you need to start thinking about it legally. You gave them money, lots of money. That’s not a gift when it’s given under the assumption you’ll have a place to live. That’s compensation for housing.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but she was right.
I’d been paying my way.
More than paying my way.
“I’ll tell Margaret,” I said.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about Tuesday’s hearing, about what I’d say if I had to speak, about what Elliot would say.
Would he tell the truth? Would he admit they’d planned this while I was gone? That they deliberately waited until I was three states away to lock me out?
Or would he lie?
Would he back up whatever story Esme and their expensive lawyer concocted?
I didn’t know, and that uncertainty was eating me alive.
Around 2:00 in the morning, I got up and went to Dorothy’s living room.
I stood at the window looking out at the dark street and let myself imagine what would happen if I lost.
If the judge said Elliot had as much right to the house as I did, that I couldn’t force them out.
If I ended up having to sell my house, my house, and split the proceeds with the son who’d betrayed me.
I’d have money, sure. Maybe $175,000 after the sale, after lawyer fees, enough to start over, find an apartment, maybe even a small condo.
But I’d be alone.
Really alone.
My sister Linda was dying. My son had chosen his wife over me. I had friends like Dorothy, sure.
But at 65, starting completely over with no family to speak of.
I cut off that train of thought.
I couldn’t think that way.
Not now.
Behind me, I heard footsteps.
Dorothy appeared in her bathrobe.
“Can’t sleep either?”
“No.”
She came and stood beside me at the window.
For a while, we just stood there in companionable silence.
“You’re going to win,” Dorothy said finally.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Because you have something they don’t.”
“What’s that?”
“The truth and a paper trail to prove it.”
She turned to look at me.
“Belinda, I’ve known you for 30 years. You’re the most honest person I’ve ever met. Sometimes annoyingly honest. You don’t lie. You don’t cheat. You don’t manipulate. You just do what’s right even when it costs you.”
“Maybe that was my mistake.”
“No, that’s your strength. And on Tuesday, when you’re standing in front of that judge, that’s what he’s going to see. An honest woman who got taken advantage of by people she trusted.”
I wanted to believe her.
I really did.
“What if Elliot hates me after this?”
Dorothy was quiet for a moment.
Then she said gently, “Honey, I think he already does. Or at least he doesn’t love you the way a son should love his mother. And I know that hurts. I know it does. But you can’t set yourself on fire to keep him warm. Not anymore.”
She was right.
Deep down, I knew she was right.
“Come on,” Dorothy said, taking my arm. “Let’s make some chamomile tea and then we’re both going to bed. You need rest before Tuesday.”
As I followed her to the kitchen, my phone buzzed one more time.
Another text from Elliot.
“Mom, please talk to me before Tuesday. We can work this out. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
Don’t make this worse.
As if I was the one who’d made it bad in the first place.
I turned off my phone and went to help Dorothy with the tea.
Tuesday was coming, and this time I wasn’t backing down.
Tuesday morning arrived cold and gray.
I’d been awake since 4:30, too nervous to sleep.
Dorothy made me eat breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast that tasted like cardboard in my dry mouth, and then drove me to the courthouse.
Margaret was waiting outside courtroom 3B, looking crisp and professional in a navy suit.
She smiled when she saw me, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Ready?”
“No, but let’s do it anyway.”
She touched my arm briefly.
“Remember what we talked about. Stay calm. Don’t let them provoke you. Answer questions directly and honestly. The truth is on our side.”
We walked into the courtroom together.
It was smaller than I’d expected from watching TV shows. Just a few rows of benches, the judge’s platform, and two tables facing forward.
Elliot and Esme were already there, sitting at the other table with their lawyer.
My son wore a suit I’d never seen before. Probably new, probably expensive.
Esme was in a cream colored dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Elliot looked up when I walked in. Our eyes met for just a second before he looked away.
Not guilty. Not ashamed. Just away.
Esme, on the other hand, stared right at me.
If looks could kill, I’d have dropped dead in the aisle.
Their lawyer, Daniel Reeves, was exactly what I’d expected. Mid-50s, silver hair, expensive watch, the kind of confidence that comes from winning more cases than you lose.
He glanced at me once, a quick assessing look, then leaned over to whisper something to Esme.
She nodded.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Patricia Brennan.”
We stood.
The judge entered. A woman in her early 60s with gray hair pulled back in a bun and sharp intelligent eyes.
She settled into her seat and looked at both tables.
“Please be seated. This is case number 74321. Clark versus Clark. Petition for emergency injunctive relief and determination of property rights. Council, are we ready to proceed?”
Margaret stood.
“Yes, your honor.”
Reeves stood.
“Yes, your honor.”
“Very well. Ms. Chen, this is your motion. Please present your opening statement.”
Margaret rose, collected her thoughts, and began.