“So what if they are?” Ashley replied, jutting out her chin. “Kevin’s mom and dad retired and wanted a quiet place to live, so I let them stay there. What’s wrong with that? It’s better than leaving the place empty.”
“You let them stay?” I raised an eyebrow. “For free?”
“Of course. They’re family.”
“Don’t lie.”
I nodded slightly to Attorney Watson. Without a word, he presented the next document.
“These are the deposit records for a bank account under Ashley Thompson’s name,” Attorney Watson read calmly. “On the first of every month, $5,000 is transferred from the account of Kevin Thompson’s parents. The stated purpose of the transfer is rent.”
My grandmother spoke first. “Ashley, so you not only stole Mandy’s house, but then used it to squeeze rent out of your in-laws as well.”
“No, that’s not it,” Ashley screamed. “That was a maintenance fee. It’s a huge house. It costs money to keep it up. And Kevin’s parents are rich anyway. $5,000 a month is nothing to them.”
“That’s not the point,” I said quietly, but with force. “You took my house without permission and made $5,000 a month off it. Meanwhile, I, the rightful owner, could barely afford food for the next day. You knew that.”
Ashley’s eyes darted away.
“Mom, listen,” my father leaned forward, trying to intervene. “Yes, maybe the way we did it was a little heavy-handed, but look at the outcome. The house is well-maintained, and Ashley’s in-laws are happy.
Isn’t that far better for the family as a whole than letting Mandy live there alone? We can always give Mandy some money later. A severance payment? No, a consolation payment and settle this.”
“A consolation payment?” my grandmother repeated in a low voice. The stem of the wine glass in her hand creaked ominously.
“When my granddaughter was on the brink of sleeping on the streets, you were living in luxury off her property. And now you think you can settle it with consolation money?”
“But Mom, Mandy is still young. Hardship builds character, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up.”
My grandmother’s roar echoed through the room.
“I wrote to Mandy every single month. I asked, ‘How’s the house? Are you having any trouble?’ But I never received a single reply. Instead, George kept telling me, ‘Mandy is so mentally unstable, she can’t even write a thank-you note.’”
I shook my head. Not a single letter ever reached me.
“Of course not,” my grandmother said coldly, turning to my parents. “Every letter I sent was addressed to this house. You claimed Mandy was mentally unstable and said you would hold on to them for her.
And you never gave me her real address. You crushed my letters and cut off all contact from Mandy as well, didn’t you?”