“Yes.”
“Did you watch Sarah sign this document?”
His shoulders dropped.
“No.”
The answer was so quiet that I almost missed it.
Maya did not react.
“Then why did you sign as a witness?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Linda told me Sarah had agreed.
She said Sarah was too busy to come over and that the signature had been scanned from another document.
She said the lawyers just needed confirmation that the family was in agreement.”
“And you believed that?” I asked.
He looked at me with wet eyes.
“I wanted to.”
That answer hurt more than an excuse would have.
He wanted to believe it because believing it was easier than calling me.
Easier than asking one question.
Easier than risking an argument with my mother.
His lifelong neutrality had finally revealed itself for what it was.
Compliance with the loudest person in the room.
“Dad, you witnessed a signature you never saw me make.”
“I know.”
“You helped them sell my property.”
“I didn’t understand how far Linda had
taken it.”
Maya interrupted before emotion swallowed the conversation.
“Did Linda tell you about the four hundred thousand dollars?”
My father froze.
That was our answer.
He knew.
Not everything, perhaps.
But enough.
He admitted that my mother had told him the developer advanced money to solve Clare’s immediate financial crisis.
He believed the final sale would make everyone whole.
“Everyone?” I asked.
“How was I going to be made whole?”
He had no answer.
