“We need certified copies from the lender,” she said. “We need the notary information, witness records, and handwriting analysis. Until then, do not confront Derek about the signature.”
Emily’s face had gone pale.
“How much money did he take?”
Sandra looked at the numbers.
“Approximately one hundred and eighty thousand dollars was added to the loan.”
Emily gripped the edge of the table.
“Where did it go?”
“That is what we need to learn.”
On the drive home, my phone rang.
Derek.
I nearly let it go to voicemail.
Instead, I answered.
“What?”
“You need to tell Emily to stop wasting everyone’s time.”
“I’m not telling her anything.”
“You don’t understand the situation.”
“I understand more than I did yesterday.”
He laughed.
“She has no chance of keeping the house.”
“You sure?”
“I know what I own.”
After he ended the call, I remained in my truck for several minutes.
Every instinct urged me to drive to his office and ask him directly whether he had copied my daughter’s signature.
Instead, I went home, made coffee, and arranged every document by date.
Carol had always said complicated problems become manageable once you stop looking at all of them at once.
One page.
One call.
One fact.
Three days later, Sandra called.
“Jack, sit down.”
“What did you find?”
“The lender located the original refinance packet.”
“And?”
“There was a witness.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Nancy Collins.”
Derek’s mother had signed a sworn statement claiming she watched Emily approve the refinance documents.
The snowy night no longer looked like an impulsive family confrontation.
It looked like the final step in a plan.
Christmas Eve arrived beneath six inches of snow.
The neighborhood resembled the holiday cards Carol used to buy. White rooftops. Wreaths on doors. Smoke lifting from chimneys.
Inside my house, Lily stood at the living-room window in red pajamas.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, peanut?”
“Will Santa know I live here now?”
I knelt beside her.
“Santa has been doing this a very long time. He can find anybody.”
“Is he older than you?”
“Much older.”
She considered that.
“I didn’t know anyone was older than you.”
Emily laughed for the first time in days.
We tried to make Christmas normal.
Emily baked sugar cookies from Carol’s recipe. Lily covered them with enough sprinkles to bury the frosting. Holiday music played from the radio above the refrigerator.
For a few hours, life felt familiar.
Then Emily’s phone vibrated.
She looked at the screen and locked it immediately.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
I waited.
“Nancy posted pictures.”
Emily handed me the phone.
There they were.
Derek, Nancy, Claire, and several members of the Collins family stood in front of Emily’s Christmas tree. Claire wore a green sweater I recognized as one Emily’s sister had given her.
Nancy’s caption read:
Nothing matters more than spending Christmas with the people who truly belong together.
More than two hundred people had reacted.
Someone wrote, Beautiful family.
Emily took the phone from me.
“I shouldn’t have looked.”
She walked toward the hallway. A few seconds later, I heard her crying quietly.
Later that afternoon, Lily sat on the rug coloring reindeer when she suddenly looked around.
“My bunny.”
Emily paused while wrapping presents.
“What bunny?”
“My bedtime bunny.”
We all looked toward the couch.
The rabbit she had carried through the snow was a spare toy from my house, not the faded white rabbit she had slept with since infancy.
Emily’s face changed.
“I think we left the original one.”
Lily’s mouth trembled.
“I can’t sleep without Bunny.”
“I’ll get it,” Emily said.
“No.”
I reached for my coat.
“Dad, you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
The drive to Derek’s house took twenty minutes.