Chapter 2 - the letters that never left
My mother had written me thirty-seven letters.
I found them inside a Christmas decoration box.
Not because Vanessa told us where they were.
Because Mom remembered hiding the last twelve beneath a plastic angel.
The others had disappeared.
We sat together in the upstairs living room after Daniel persuaded Vanessa to stay in the kitchen while the city inspector completed his report.
Persuaded was a generous word.
Vanessa demanded to know whether she was under arrest.
Daniel told her no.
She demanded to know whether she had to leave.
He explained that the immediate issue was the basement and unauthorized tenants, and that any change in her occupancy would follow a proper legal process.
Vanessa became bolder after hearing that.
She mistook procedure for safety.
People like Vanessa often do.
Mom was on the couch beneath one of Dad's old wool blankets.
I sat beside her with the recovered letters stacked between us.
The first envelope had my London address.
The second had Amsterdam.
The last ten had Singapore.
None had stamps.
"Why didn't you mail them?"
Mom looked toward the kitchen.
"Some I did."
My throat tightened.
"How many?"
"I don't know. Maybe twenty."
"I never got one."
She nodded slowly.
"I thought so."
The first letter I opened was dated eighteen months earlier.
Dear Claire,
I know you are busy and I do not want you to worry. Vanessa says the expenses have increased and I need to start contributing more. I told her I could use some of my savings, but she says the house costs much more now. I hope I am not becoming a burden. Please do not send money. I just wanted to ask whether the taxes are really eight hundred dollars a month now.
I stopped reading.
The property taxes were not eight hundred dollars a month.
I paid them directly.
Mom watched my face.
"I knew something was wrong."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I tried."
"What happened?"
"She said your number changed."
It had not.
Mom continued.
"Then the phone started acting strange. Sometimes your name wouldn't come up. Vanessa said international calls were confusing the system."
I took out my phone.
"Did she ever show you a message from me?"
Mom hesitated.
"Yes."
My stomach dropped.
"What messages?"
"She said you were overwhelmed. She said you asked me to talk to her about house matters because you didn't have time."
I closed my eyes.
I had never said that.
Never.
Mom's voice became smaller.
"She showed me a message that said you were tired of being the family bank."
I looked at her.
"I didn't write that."
"I know now."
"No, Mom. I never wrote anything like that."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I know."
I reached for her hand.
Her fingers were cold.
From the kitchen came the sound of a cabinet closing too hard.
Vanessa could hear us.
Good.
I opened another letter.
This one was fourteen months old.
Dear Claire,
Vanessa rented your old room to a young woman named Paige. She seems nice. Vanessa says you gave permission. I moved into the smaller guest room. I do not mind. Paige works nights at the hospital and sleeps during the day. I am trying to stay quiet.
Another.
Dear Claire,
There is another renter now. A man named Andrew is in the guest room. Vanessa says rent helps with repairs. I asked whether you know. She got angry. I do not want to cause trouble.
Another.
Dear Claire,
My bank card did not work today. Vanessa says the bank froze it because I forgot the code. She has been buying groceries for me. I think I am forgetting things.
My hand started shaking.
"Mom, were you forgetting things?"
She looked ashamed.
"Sometimes."
"Like what?"
"Names. Appointments. Once I left water boiling."
"That happens."
"Vanessa said the doctor thought I shouldn't manage money alone."
"Which doctor?"
Mom's eyebrows pulled together.
"I don't remember his name."
"Did you see him?"
She stared at me.
Then she whispered, "No."
I looked toward the kitchen.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
"Enough."
Daniel immediately stepped between us.
She ignored him.
"Claire, you have no idea what it was like taking care of her."
Mom flinched.
I saw it.
So did Daniel.
Vanessa pointed at the letters.
"She writes things when she's upset. Half of that isn't accurate."
"Which half?"
"Don't do that."
"Which half, Vanessa?"
"You're turning this into some courtroom drama."
"No. You tried to put your name on my deed."
"That document was for future planning."
"Mom's signature is on it."
"She signed it."
Mom stood.
It took her two attempts.
I reached for her, but she lifted a hand.
"No."
She faced Vanessa.
"I did not."
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"You sign things all the time."
"I did not sign that."
"Mom, you don't remember what you had for breakfast."
My mother's face changed.
Not dramatically.
But something old returned.
A piece of the woman who had raised us.
"I remember my own name."
Vanessa looked away first.
Daniel asked her to remain available.
Then he followed me into the dining room.
"We need access to Eleanor's bank records."
"I'll get them."
"If Vanessa has power of attorney, we need to know."
I froze.
"What?"
Mom heard him.
She looked confused.
"Power of attorney?"
Daniel's expression sharpened.
"Eleanor, did you ever sign a document allowing Vanessa to make financial decisions for you?"
"No."
Vanessa called from the kitchen.
"That is not what it was."
Daniel turned slowly.
"What was it?"
No answer.
He walked toward her.
I followed.
Vanessa was holding her phone.
"Put that down," she said.
"Why?"
"Because you're treating me like a criminal."
Daniel's eyes moved to the screen.
Vanessa turned it away.
Too late.
I had seen the banking app.
Mom's name was visible at the top.
I stepped closer.
"Why are you logged into Mom's bank account?"
Vanessa locked the screen.
"Because someone had to pay her bills."
"What bills?"
She said nothing.
That silence changed the room.
Mom whispered behind us.
"My pension."
I turned.
She was staring at Vanessa.
"My pension still comes every month."
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
Mom's voice grew clearer.
"Where does it go?"
For the first time, Vanessa looked not angry, not smug, but cornered.
She picked up her handbag.
Daniel moved toward the door.
"Leaving right now would be a bad decision."
She glared at him.
"You can't hold me here."
"Correct."
"Then move."
He did.
Vanessa walked past us.
Before she stepped through the doorway, she looked directly at me.
"You think Mom is some helpless little victim because you haven't been here. Ask her why she gave me access."
Then she left.
The front door slammed.
I turned toward Mom.
She was staring at the carpet.
"Mom?"
Her lips trembled.
"I gave her one card."
May you like
"Why?"
"Because she said if I didn't, you would sell the house."
