Chapter 9 - THE MONEY BEHIND SUNHAVEN
Patricia finally agreed to meet after her business attorney called.
Not at her office.
At a neutral conference room.
My father came.
Melissa came.
Deborah did not.
Patricia looked ten years older than she had in her book-club photographs.
“I never meant for this to become fraud.”
My attorney, Andrea Cole, who had joined after the forged-signature issue grew beyond a bank dispute, answered calmly.
“Then explain what it became.”
Patricia began with the monthly transfers.
Deborah created a travel savings account through Sunhaven.
At first, legitimate.
Cruises.
Hotels.
Family reunions.
Then Deborah began overfunding it.
“Why?”
Patricia looked at Dad.
“She said Robert couldn’t manage money after surgery.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
He had undergone knee replacement.
Not brain surgery.
“I managed my finances for forty-three years.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
Patricia looked ashamed.
Deborah told her Dad wanted the money held separately.
Then she started using it.
Spa weekends.
Airfare.
Club trips.
Deposits for Melissa.
Some canceled.
Some refunded.
But the refunds did not always return to Dad.
“Where?”
Patricia’s hands trembled.
“To a card Deborah controlled.”
“How much?”
“About twenty-eight thousand.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Melissa started crying.
Patricia continued.
“When the cruise came up, Deborah said Clara wanted everyone to go but didn’t want the children to know until the last minute.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“So you replaced my kids.”
“She gave me the authorization.”
“You helped prepare one of them.”
Patricia nodded.
There it was.
Not innocence.
Responsibility.
“I knew it was wrong when she asked me to copy the signature.”
Andrea looked at her.
“But you did it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was my best friend.”
That sentence sounded pathetic.
Also human.
Friendship had become her excuse the way family became everyone else’s.
I asked the question that still bothered me.
“Why was Melissa supposedly moving to Arizona?”
Patricia frowned.
“I don’t know.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Did Deborah book anything to Arizona?”
Patricia’s face changed.
She opened her laptop.
Searched.
Then whispered:
“Yes.”
Two one-way tickets.
Deborah.
And Dad.
Departure:
The morning our cruise was scheduled to leave.
My father stared.
“I’m not moving to Arizona.”
Patricia scrolled.
There was more.
A vehicle transport reservation.
Dad’s SUV.
A storage unit in Scottsdale.
And a six-month furnished apartment.
Melissa whispered:
“She was leaving?”
Maybe.
Then Patricia opened the payment source.
Not Dad’s travel account.
A new credit card.
In my father’s name.
Balance:
$47,600.
Dad looked physically ill.
“I never opened that.”
Andrea leaned closer.
“When was it opened?”
Six months earlier.
Online.
Using his Social Security number.
Deborah had not merely mismanaged his money.
Someone had opened credit in his name.
May you like
And the Scottsdale move looked less like a family fresh start.
It looked like an exit plan.
