Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“You are not supposed to be in the main house without asking,” she said, her voice sharp and high-pitched. She tapped her long red fingernails against the edge of a heavy white envelope.
“We need to talk about the real estate listing at the gate,” I said, keeping my voice quiet and steady. “And we need to talk about the home equity loan.”
Sable did not flinch. She set the mail down on the table with a slow, deliberate motion and turned to face me.
“I am doing what is necessary to save this family from your husband’s poor planning,” she said. “If you do not like the decisions being made, you are welcome to find other accommodations.”
“You signed Nathan’s name on a legal document,” I said. “That is fraud, Sable.”
“If you say that word again in this house, I will call the police and have you removed for trespassing,” she said, her red nails digging into her leather purse. “The locks were changed for my protection, and you are currently occupying a private garage without a lease.”
