Chapter 3 - Nine in the Morning
Maya did not sleep.
At two in the morning, she sat cross-legged on her childhood bed surrounded by photographs of Angela.
At three, she searched Maryland property records online.
At four, she found the address.
The public database showed the owner as:
THE ANGELA M. CARTER REVOCABLE TRUST.
Not Robert.
Not Denise.
The trust.
Maya stared at the screen until her eyes watered.
Robert had spent seven years referring to the property as his house.
Denise had spent four years calling it her home.
Neither had mentioned Angela still legally existed in the ownership record.
At six-thirty, Maya went downstairs.
Loretta was already at the kitchen island drinking coffee.
“You found it,” Loretta said.
Maya showed her the phone.
Loretta closed her eyes.
“Lord.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I knew Angela’s mother helped her buy the house years ago. I didn’t know she transferred it into a trust.”
Maya sat.
“She put the house in a trust before she died.”
Loretta nodded slowly.
“And Robert is trying to sell it.”
They heard movement upstairs.
Maya lowered her voice.
“What did Mom think Dad would do?”
Loretta looked at her.
“That’s what scares me.”
At seven-fifteen, Denise walked into the kitchen dressed in tailored black trousers and a silk blouse.
She stopped when she saw them.
Maya said, “Who’s coming at nine?”
Denise opened the refrigerator.
“An appraiser.”
“For what?”
“A financial matter.”
“You’re appraising a house you don’t own.”
Denise shut the refrigerator.
“This is exactly why Robert didn’t want you involved before he had facts.”
Maya almost smiled.
“I have a fact.”
She slid her phone across the island.
Denise glanced at the ownership record.
Her face barely changed.
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“Then tell me what it means.”
“It means Angela used a trust.”
“I know.”
“Robert controls it.”
“As trustee.”
“Yes.”
“Not owner.”
Denise’s eyes sharpened.
“You’re playing attorney now?”
“No. I’m reading English.”
Robert entered.
He looked exhausted.
“Maya.”
“Cancel the appraisal.”
He poured coffee.
“No.”
Loretta stood.
“Robert.”
“This is none of your business.”
“It became my business when you used my sister’s name to lie to me.”
Robert slammed the mug onto the counter.
“I was trying to prevent exactly this circus.”
Maya said quietly, “What happens at twenty-five?”
Again, silence.
Then Denise spoke.
“Nothing automatically.”
Robert looked at her sharply.
Maya noticed.
“What does that mean?”
Denise shrugged.
“Trusts are complicated.”
“You seem very educated about my mother’s trust.”
“I live here.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Denise stepped closer.
“I have spent four years living under Angela’s ghost. Every financial decision. Every repair. Every change to this house. Her name is on everything.”
Maya stared.
“So that’s why you took down the pictures.”
Denise laughed bitterly.
“You think this is about pictures?”
Robert said, “Enough.”
But Denise continued.
“I couldn’t replace a broken window without hearing about what Angela would have wanted. I couldn’t remodel the kitchen without some lawyer reminding Robert which account could pay for what.”
Maya’s mind caught on the sentence.
“Which account?”
Denise stopped.
Robert’s face changed.
Maya leaned forward.
“What account?”
Robert said, “House reserves.”
“Belonging to the trust?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Maya.”
“How much money?”
“No one took your money.”
Again.
The denial arrived before the accusation.
Loretta looked at Robert with disgust.
“Jesus Christ.”
At eight-fifty-two, a black Lexus pulled into the driveway.
A middle-aged white man stepped out carrying a leather portfolio.
Robert went to the front door.
Maya followed.
The man smiled professionally.
“Mr. Carter? Daniel Moss. Chesapeake Property Valuation.”
“Yes.”
Maya stepped between them.
“Before you begin, can I ask who retained you?”
The appraiser hesitated.
Robert said, “Maya.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“A financing institution requested the appraisal.”
Maya’s stomach tightened.
“What institution?”
“I’m not authorized to discuss the client file.”
Robert opened the door wider.
“Come in.”
Maya did not move.
“Is this for a refinance?”
Daniel looked at Robert.
Robert’s silence answered.
Maya’s voice dropped.
“You’re borrowing against the house.”
Denise entered the foyer.
“Maya, stop making a scene.”
“A scene?”
Maya turned.
“Did you need the photographs gone for the appraisal?”
Denise’s face hardened.
“What?”
“You wanted the house staged.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
Robert said, “The pictures had nothing to do with this.”
Maya looked at the enormous wedding portrait above the fireplace.
“Funny. One family disappeared right before the bank came.”
Daniel cleared his throat.
“I can reschedule.”
“No,” Robert said.
“Yes,” Maya said simultaneously.
Daniel shifted awkwardly.
Maya pulled up the property record.
“The home is titled to the Angela M. Carter Revocable Trust. I am a beneficiary, and I am formally objecting to any valuation being used to encumber trust property until I receive the governing instrument and accounting.”
Robert stared at her.
Loretta looked almost proud.
Daniel read the screen.
“I’m not a lawyer,” he said carefully, “but given the dispute, I’m going to contact the lender before proceeding.”
Robert’s face flushed.
“This is unnecessary.”
Daniel backed toward the door.
“I’ll let them determine that.”
When he left, Robert closed the door.
Hard.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Maya stared at him.
“Stopping you from borrowing against something you refuse to explain.”
“I have maintained this house for seven years.”
“With whose money?”
His silence stretched.
Maya felt fear turning into certainty.
“Dad.”
He looked away.
Denise spoke from behind him.
“We renovated because the property needed to maintain value.”
Maya turned.
“The marble fireplace?”
Denise folded her arms.
“The house was dated.”
“The imported countertops?”
No response.
“The built-in wine room?”
“Maya—”
“Did my mother’s trust pay for your renovation?”
Robert said sharply, “Some of it.”
Loretta whispered, “Robert.”
“How much?”
He said nothing.
“How much?”
Denise lifted her chin.
“About sixty thousand.”
Robert closed his eyes.
Maya stared at them.
“Sixty thousand dollars?”
Denise corrected her.
“Sixty-two.”
Maya laughed.
It came out hollow.
Then Robert’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
SAMUEL GREENE.
Everyone saw it.
Robert declined the call.
Three seconds later, Maya’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke carefully.
“Ms. Carter? My name is Samuel Greene. I represented your mother.”
Maya looked directly at Robert.
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Samuel continued.
“I believe we are approximately six weeks overdue for a conversation Angela specifically instructed me to have with you on your twenty-fifth birthday.”
