Chapter 4 - The Name on the Deed)
Abby spent that night listening to her family talk downstairs as though nothing had changed.
Frank watched television.
Linda washed dishes.
Martha complained that Tyler had not responded to her messages.
Abby sat at her desk comparing two signatures.
One was on the affidavit Nora had printed.
The other was Abby's real signature on a school employment form.
At first glance they looked similar.
At second glance they did not.
Abby always crossed the first stroke of her A high.
The affidavit crossed it low.
Her last name normally leaned right.
The affidavit was almost vertical.
But the most important detail was one Abby would never have noticed without Nora.
The middle initial.
Abby signed Abigail R. Miller on legal paperwork.
The affidavit said Abigail Rose Miller.
Frank was one of the only people who regularly used her full middle name.
Abby heard footsteps outside her door.
She minimized the document.
Frank knocked once and opened the door before she answered.
He looked around.
"Door locked again?"
"I unlocked it."
"Why are you hiding up here?"
"I'm working."
Frank stepped inside.
His eyes moved to the laptop.
"School work?"
"Yes."
The lie came easier this time.
He leaned against the desk.
"Your mother says you've been acting strange."
"I'm tired."
"About the rent thing."
Abby waited.
Frank sighed as though dealing with a difficult employee.
"Maybe double was excessive."
Abby said nothing.
He took her silence for weakness.
"We can compromise."
"What does that look like?"
"You help Martha Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and some Saturdays. Your rent stays where it is."
Abby almost smiled.
He believed he was negotiating with a tenant.
In a house that did not belong to him.
"No."
Frank's face tightened.
"What exactly are you planning to do?"
"I haven't decided."
"You think you're going to move out?"
"Maybe."
"On a teacher's salary?"
Abby looked at him.
"How much do you think I make?"
Frank hesitated.
The question surprised him.
"I know what teachers make."
"How much?"
"Not enough."
Abby realized something then.
Frank did not actually know.
He knew what he wanted her to believe.
Her district salary was not enormous, but with summer tutoring, savings, and the money she would stop paying the family, she could afford a modest apartment.
Easily.
She had calculated it.
Frank had never calculated it with her.
He had only declared it impossible.
He pointed at the laptop.
"Don't get ideas because you're angry."
"I'm not angry."
That seemed to bother him more.
"You should appreciate what your mother and I have done for you."
Abby looked around the childhood bedroom.
"You mean letting me live here?"
"Exactly."
She almost asked him whose house it was.
Instead she said, "I appreciate clarity."
Frank frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm starting to understand things."
He stared at her.
For one second, Abby wondered whether he knew.
Whether something in her voice had alerted him.
Then Martha shouted from downstairs.
"Dad, the ice cream's gone."
Frank rolled his eyes.
He turned to leave.
Before stepping out, he looked back.
"Friday. I want an answer."
Abby nodded.
"You'll have one."
After he left, she locked the door again.
Then she emailed Nora.
I think he forged my signature.
Nora called within five minutes.
"Do not confront him."
"I wasn't planning to."
"We need the original filing and the lender records."
"Can you get them?"
"Some. I may need your authorization for others."
Abby looked at the bedroom door.
"What was he trying to borrow?"
"The preliminary application references one hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
Abby's mouth went dry.
"Against the house?"
"Apparently."
"But he doesn't own it."
"Which is likely why the application failed."
"So why fake my consent?"
"Because you are the trust beneficiary."
Abby stared at her grandmother's blue folder.
"If he knew I was the beneficiary, he knew the house wasn't his."
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
Devastatingly simple.
Frank had not misunderstood.
He had known.
Every time he told Abby she should be grateful he let her stay in his house, he had known.
Every time he increased her contribution, he had known.
Every time he warned her she could never manage without him, he had known.
Abby felt something inside her detach.
Not love.
She still loved him.
That was the painful part.
What detached was the instinct to protect his image.
"What do you need from me?" she asked.
"Copies of everything."
"I have bank records."
"Messages too."
Abby thought of hundreds of texts.
Transfer this.
Pick this up.
Your mother needs money.
Martha is short this month.
The electric bill is high because you're home all summer.
"You'll have them."
"Abby."
"Yes?"
"Do you have somewhere safe to stay if Frank realizes what you're doing?"
Abby looked around.
Until that moment, she had not considered the house unsafe.
Unkind, yes.
Controlling, yes.
But safe?
She thought of Frank entering her room without permission.
Of papers put in front of her with yellow signature tabs.
Of a forged affidavit.
"I can find somewhere."
"Do that first."
The next day at school, Abby sat beside another second grade teacher during lunch.
Her name was Claire Donovan.
They had worked together for two years.
Claire knew Abby lived with family.
She did not know much else.
Abby stirred soup she was not eating.
"Can I ask you something weird?"
Claire looked up.
"Always."
"Do you still have that basement apartment?"
Claire blinked.
"The one in my aunt's duplex?"
"Yes."
"It's empty."
"How much?"
Claire gave her a closer look.
"Are you moving?"
"Possibly."
"Did something happen?"
Abby paused.
Then chose a version of the truth.
"I found out my family finances aren't what I thought they were."
Claire waited.
Abby appreciated that she did not push.
"The apartment is six hundred fifty," Claire said. "Utilities included except internet. It's tiny, but clean."
"When could I move in?"
"Probably tomorrow."
Abby almost laughed.
Frank had spent years telling her that finding housing would be complicated.
It took one lunch conversation.
Claire watched her.
"Do you need it tomorrow?"
Abby looked down at her soup.
"No."
Then she corrected herself.
"Maybe."
By Friday, Frank had demanded her answer three times.
Abby finally gave him one at dinner.
"No childcare."
Frank's jaw tightened.
"Then double rent starts next month."
Abby nodded.
"Okay."
Martha smiled.
Linda looked relieved.
Frank leaned back, satisfied.
None of them understood.
Abby was not agreeing to pay.
She was agreeing to let Frank put the threat in writing.
Two minutes later, his message arrived.
Starting October 1, your rent is $1,700 unless you agree to the family childcare plan. This is final.
Abby photographed the screen.
Then forwarded it to Nora.
Nora replied with four words.
May you like
That is extremely useful.
That night, Abby packed her first suitcase.
