Chapter 2: The Woman Behind the Bill
Patricia was standing inside the management office when I arrived.
She closed the door behind me.
"Miss Carter, I'm terribly sorry about what happened.""
I let out a breath.
"Did everyone hear her?""
Patricia hesitated.
"Most of the room, yes.""
I looked through the narrow glass panel in the door.
I could see my mother laughing with two women from her church.
Claire was taking photographs.
Marcus was talking to a man near the bar.
They looked perfectly comfortable.
"Did my mother really ask you to charge additional expenses to the card on file?""
"Yes. She requested another bottle of champagne, upgraded gift arrangements, and an additional dessert presentation.""
I closed my eyes.
Of course she had.
"How much?""
"Approximately four thousand eight hundred dollars.""
I opened my eyes.
"She hasn't asked me?""
Patricia shook her head.
"She said you had already approved everything.""
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because I was beginning to understand how easily my family had learned to spend money that wasn't theirs.
"Patricia, I need you to show me the current account.""
She opened a folder on her desk.
The original estimate was thirty-six thousand two hundred dollars.
Additional charges had pushed the total beyond forty thousand.
I examined the paperwork.
The venue rental.
The floral arrangements.
The catering.
The musicians.
The transportation.
The cake.
Every charge was listed under my name.
I had paid a deposit of fifteen thousand dollars three months earlier.
The remaining balance was scheduled to be settled that evening.
"Did my mother sign anything?""
"No. You are the contracting client.""
"Did she authorize any changes?""
Patricia shook her head.
"She requested them verbally. We haven't processed anything.""
"Good.""
I handed the folder back.
"Please don't add anything without my written approval.""
"Of course.""
Patricia studied my face.
"Would you like us to ask your mother to speak with you?""
"No.""
I looked at the dining room again.
"Not yet.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from Claire.
*Where did you go? Mom is asking for you. Don't be dramatic.*
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
*Also, can you ask the waiter to bring me another glass of champagne?*
I almost laughed.
Instead, I put my phone away.
Patricia offered me a glass of water.
I accepted it.
For several minutes, I sat in silence.
I remembered being seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen of our old house while my mother told me that Claire needed a new laptop for school.
I'd saved money from my part-time job at a grocery store.
I'd wanted to buy myself a secondhand laptop.
Instead, I handed over the money.
My mother said, "That's what older sisters do.""
I remembered being twenty-four, working double shifts at a financial services company, while Marcus called to ask for help paying his rent.
I sent him the money.
He never thanked me.
I remembered paying for my mother's dental surgery.
Her car repairs.
The roof replacement.
The church fundraiser she insisted she couldn't attend unless she wore a new dress.
Every time, the same words.
"Family takes care of family.""
I had believed them.
But somewhere along the way, my family had decided that taking care of family meant I did the giving and they did the receiving.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
Patricia opened the door.
"Miss Carter, your mother is asking for you.""
I looked up.
"Did she say why?""
"She wants to know where the additional champagne is.""
I stood.
"Tell her the request is being reviewed.""
Patricia looked surprised.
"Certainly.""
I walked back toward the dining room.
The moment I entered, Claire spotted me.
"There you are!""
She waved her empty glass.
"Can you get someone to refill this?""
I stopped beside her.
"Ask the waiter.""
She frowned.
"Why are you being difficult?""
My mother turned.
"Nia, where have you been?""
"Speaking with management.""
Her eyes narrowed.
"About what?""
"The account.""
She glanced at Claire.
"What account?""
"The one under my name.""
My mother waved dismissively.
"Don't worry about that. Everything is being handled.""
"By whom?""
She gave me an irritated look.
"Must we discuss money at my birthday dinner?""
I looked at the emerald bracelet around her wrist.
"Apparently not.""
Claire snorted.
"Oh, here we go.""
My mother lowered her voice.
"Don't embarrass me.""
I looked around the table.
"That's interesting advice.""
Her face tightened.
"Excuse me?""
"Nothing.""
I turned toward the waiter.
"Could I have a glass of water, please?""
He nodded.
As he walked away, Aunt Denise pulled out the chair beside her.
"Sit with me, sweetheart.""
I looked at the chair.
It was the same place I'd originally been assigned.
My mother noticed.
"Denise, don't interfere.""
Denise didn't move.
"She's your daughter, Evelyn. Let her sit.""
My mother gave her a cold smile.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion.""
Denise folded her hands.
"And I don't remember you paying for this dinner.""
The table went quiet again.
Claire rolled her eyes.
"Why does everyone have to make everything uncomfortable?""
Denise turned toward her.
"Because someone has to acknowledge what's happening.""
Marcus finally spoke.
"Can we please stop? It's Mom's birthday.""
I looked at him.
"Then maybe we should let her enjoy it without humiliating people.""
He sighed.
"Nia, you always take things personally.""
I almost answered.
Then I noticed something on the table.
A small white envelope sat beside my mother's handbag.
It had my name written across the front.
I picked it up.
"What's this?""
My mother reached for it immediately.
"Put that down.""
I held it away.
"Why is my name on it?""
"Because it's private.""
Claire leaned forward.
"Mom, just let her see it.""
My mother shot her a warning look.
But Claire was already smiling.
"Since you're here, you might as well know.""
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
At the top was the name of a local real estate company.
Below it was a property address.
My address.
My stomach tightened.
I owned a three-bedroom house in Buckhead. I'd purchased it four years earlier, after years of saving and working toward financial independence.
My mother had been living there temporarily for the past six months while her own apartment underwent repairs.
Temporarily.
That was the word she'd used.
I unfolded the paper.
It was a property listing authorization form.
My mother's name appeared under the section labeled prospective seller.
My name appeared as the current owner.
I looked up.
"What is this?""
My mother snatched the paper.
"It's nothing.""
"Why is my house listed for sale?""
Claire's smile widened.
"Because Mom is making plans.""
I stared at her.
"Plans involving my house?""
My mother placed the paper inside her handbag.
"Your house is too large for you. You barely use all those rooms.""
"That's not your decision.""
She sighed.
"Don't be selfish, Nia.""
I felt my fingers tightening around the edge of the table.
"Did you contact a real estate agent about selling my property?""
"Your mother is only trying to help," Claire interrupted.
I turned toward her.
"Help me do what?""
"Make better choices. You're thirty-two and still living alone in a house that could support the whole family.""
I looked at my mother.
"Did you tell an agent you owned my house?""
She didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Marcus leaned back.
"Look, Nia. We should discuss this privately.""
I turned toward him.
"Did you know?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"I knew Mom was exploring some options.""
"Options?""
"She thought the house could be sold, and we could divide the money.""
I stared at him.
"Divide the money?""
Claire nodded as if she were explaining something obvious.
"Marcus needs to stabilize his business. I want to open my own beauty studio. Mom deserves somewhere comfortable to live.""
"And what do I get?""
Claire looked genuinely confused.
"You have a good job.""
I laughed.
My mother leaned forward.
"You're making this sound terrible. We are family. Why shouldn't the house benefit everyone?""
"Because I bought it.""
"With what? Money? Money isn't everything.""
I looked at her.
"No. But apparently it's the only thing this family remembers when they need something.""
My mother stood.
"Lower your voice.""
I hadn't raised it.
"Did you sign anything on my behalf?""
She looked away.
For the first time, I saw something resembling fear in her expression.
Then she recovered.
"You're overreacting. It's only paperwork.""
I pulled my phone from my purse.
"What's the agent's name?""
"Why?""
"Because I want to know who you've been talking to.""
Claire laughed.
"God, Nia. You're acting like Mom committed a crime.""
I looked at her.
"She tried to sell my house without my permission.""
Marcus finally put down his fork.
"Can we not do this here?""
I turned toward him.
"You were planning to take the money too, weren't you?""
He said nothing.
My mother reached for her champagne.
"Enough. This conversation is over.""
She lifted her glass.
"Now, everyone, let's return to celebrating.""
I watched her take a sip.
Then my phone vibrated.
An email had arrived.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: Property Ownership Verification Required.*
I opened it.
The message was from a real estate attorney I'd never met.
It contained a scanned document attached to the email.
I looked at the signature at the bottom.
It wasn't mine.
May you like
But someone had signed my name.
And beside that signature was a date from three weeks earlier.
