Chapter 12 - MY CONDO HAD BEEN ON LINDA’S RADAR FIRST
My father remembered Linda immediately.
I called him that afternoon.
“Linda Parker?”
There was a pause.
“Where did you hear that name?”
That was not comforting.
“My former future mother-in-law.”
Silence.
Then:
“Oh.”
My dad had worked in commercial lending before retiring.
Fifteen years earlier, Linda applied for a loan to buy a small rental property.
Dad handled the application.
It was declined.
“Why?”
“Debt-to-income.”
“Did she blame you?”
“She was angry.”
That sounded like Linda.
Then Dad said something stranger.
“She contacted me again about three years ago.”
My condo had been purchased three years ago.
My pulse shifted.
“For what?”
“She wanted advice on buying in your building.”
“What?”
Linda had apparently considered purchasing a smaller unit as an investment.
She asked Dad whether the building was financially sound.
He mentioned that his daughter had recently bought there and was happy with it.
That was it.
Or so he thought.
“Did you give her my unit number?”
“No.”
“Name?”
“Your first name probably came up.”
Linda could have found the rest through public property records.
“So she knew who I was before Ethan met me.”
“Maybe.”
My stomach tightened.
Then I called Ethan.
“Where did we actually meet?”
He sounded confused.
“Rachel’s rooftop party.”
Rachel was a mutual acquaintance.
“Who told you to go?”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“My mom.”
There it was.
Linda knew Rachel through a charity committee.
She mentioned the party.
Encouraged Ethan to attend.
“Did she tell you about me?”
“She said there might be someone there I’d like.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What exactly?”
He tried to remember.
“Successful. Single. Around my age.”
“Anything about my condo?”
Long pause.
“I don’t remember.”
I believed him.
That didn’t mean Linda had engineered our entire relationship.
But she had nudged the introduction knowing exactly who I was.
Why?
Maybe she thought I was a good match.
Maybe she thought I was financially secure.
Probably both.
The distinction mattered less than what happened later.
Ethan said:
“I asked her why she had the property report.”
“And?”
“She said she was researching the building for herself.”
Possible.
Then he added:
“But there was another note.”
“What?”
On the back of the property report:
CLAIRE — FORENSIC ACCOUNTANT — DIVORCED? NO — OWNS UNIT — NO CHILDREN.
I felt cold.
“That isn’t building research.”
“No.”
Linda had researched me.
Not deeply.
Public information and social gossip.
But enough.
Before our first date.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
His voice broke slightly.
“I swear.”
I believed him.
Then Ethan told me something that made the story uglier but also clearer.
After our third date, Linda asked whether I “seemed generous.”
He thought she meant emotionally.
After our sixth date, she asked whether I had family money.
He laughed and told her no.
After we became serious, she repeatedly said:
“Claire understands stability. Don’t lose that.”
At the time, Ethan heard maternal approval.
Now he heard something else.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not confronting her?”
“No.”
I surprised myself.
Linda was no longer my future mother-in-law.
Her motives did not require my investigation.
I already had the answer that mattered.
I had been right to cancel the wedding.
Then Ethan said:
“I’m going no-contact for a while.”
“That’s your choice.”
“I keep wanting you to tell me I’m doing the right thing.”
“I’m not your replacement mother.”
He laughed sadly.
“No.”
“Don’t build your boundaries for me.”
“I know.”
For the first time, he did sound like he knew.
We hung up.
That evening I opened the old wedding folder one last time.
Venue.
Flowers.
Dress.
Honeymoon.
The honeymoon.
I had almost forgotten.
Two nonrefundable business-class tickets to Portugal.
Both purchased with my credit card.
Ethan had reimbursed his half months earlier.
I texted him:
The Portugal tickets are nonrefundable. Do you want your ticket transferred if the airline allows it, or should I reimburse you and use it?
His answer:
USE IT.
Then:
TAKE SOMEONE WHO NEVER ASKS TO BE PUT ON YOUR DEED.
I laughed harder than I had in weeks.
My younger sister, Natalie, answered the phone on the first ring.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Do you have a passport?”
May you like
There was a pause.
Then screaming.
