“Signing what papers?” he asked.
Alvarez held the folder out, not to Tiffany, but to Jason. “Sir, are you Jason?”
Jason nodded slowly and took it. He opened it. I watched his face as he read.
First, confusion. Then a furrow between his brows. Then his hands tightened on the folder until his knuckles went white.
“This is my signature,” he whispered. He looked up at Tiffany. “Tiff, this is my signature. I didn’t sign this.”
The room went absolutely still.
Tiffany’s face, for the first time, lost all its softness. “Jason, don’t be dramatic. You signed it at the kitchen table. You were tired. You don’t remember.”
“I didn’t sign this,” Jason said louder. He turned the page toward her. “This is not how I sign my J. I don’t loop it like that. Who did this?”
Her mother stepped forward. “Jason, honey, your wife has been under so much stress trying to take care of your mother. You’re not being fair.”
Jason ignored her. He was looking at me now, his eyes wide, wet.
“Mom, I swear to you, I did not know about any of this,” he said. His voice cracked. “Tiffany said you wanted us to move in to help you. She said you offered. She said the lawyer said it was better for taxes and for your care if I had power of attorney. I told her I didn’t want to rush you.”
He swallowed hard. “I asked you on your birthday if you were okay with us moving in, remember? In front of everyone? You looked… you looked upset and I thought…”
He stopped, breathing hard through his nose. Shame was pouring off him.
“You thought I was just being difficult,” I finished for him, quietly.
He nodded, his head dropping.
Tiffany made a sharp, disgusted sound. “Oh, please. Margaret, you’ve been dangling that beach house over our heads for years. You never offered to help Jason and the girls. You let us struggle in that two-bedroom rental while you sat on two houses. Don’t act like a victim.”
Alvarez’s partner shifted his weight. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to lower your voice.”
“No,” Tiffany snapped, turning on him. “She is the one who has been hiding assets from her own son. That beach house is family property. Robert would have wanted Jason to have it.”
Hearing Robert’s name in her mouth felt like a slap.
“Don’t you say his name,” I said. The words came out low and shaking. “You don’t get to say his name.”
Jason flinched. He was still holding the folder like it might burn him.
Alvarez looked at me. “Mrs. Margaret, do you have an attorney?”
“Yes,” I said. “Helen Cho. She’s had my will and deeds for twenty years.”
“Call her,” he said. “Right now. On speaker.”
My fingers fumbled with my phone. Helen picked up on the second ring. Her voice was crisp, calm.
“Margaret? Is everything alright?”
“Helen, I’m here with two deputies,” I said, my eyes never leaving Tiffany. “There is a gray folder here. It contains a durable power of attorney with my forged signature and Jason’s forged signature, and two quitclaim deeds, one for my primary residence and one for Seabrook. With a notary stamp I don’t recognize.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then Helen’s voice turned to steel.
“Do not let that folder out of law enforcement’s hands,” she said. “Margaret, listen to me carefully. You did not sign a power of attorney. I know because I prepared your actual power of attorney three years ago after Robert passed. It names your sister, Diane, as your agent, not Jason. And it is in my vault. It has never been filed.”
My knees felt weak.
