“She says families have reservations here for July and August.”

I looked toward the cardboard box beside my bookcase.

The blue bowl was still inside it, wrapped in one of Tom’s old dish towels.

“Mark, I have never rented that house to anyone.”

His voice changed.

“That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.”

I called Nancy.

She called Rebecca Shaw, the attorney who had handled the closing.

By early afternoon, the three of us were driving toward Lake Geneva.

When we arrived, Lauren and Derek were still there.

So was the other woman.

She introduced herself as Melissa Crane.

She had a laptop bag and a thick folder tucked under one arm.

Lauren looked exhausted.

Derek looked irritated.

“This didn’t need lawyers,” he said.

Rebecca didn’t respond to him.

She looked at Melissa.

“What exactly were you told about this property?”

Melissa opened her folder.

“I was told Lauren managed it for the owner.”

I looked at my daughter.

She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Melissa pulled out a reservation agreement.

A family from Milwaukee had paid $6,400 for two weeks in July.

Another reservation showed a $3,200 deposit for August.

There were more.

I turned the pages slowly.

Names.

Dates.

Payment confirmations.

“How long has this been going on?” I asked.

Nobody answered.

Melissa checked her laptop.

“The first deposit came in about five months ago.”

Rebecca leaned closer.

“Total?”

Melissa hesitated.

“A little over thirty-one thousand dollars.”

I looked at Lauren.

“You rented my house to strangers?”

She rubbed both hands over her face.

“Mom, we weren’t trying to steal from you.”

“Did you ask me?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t explain yet.”

Derek stepped forward.

“We were improving the property. Some of that money went right back into the house.”

Rebecca looked at him.

“And the rest?”

He didn’t answer.

Melissa did.

“Some transfers went to a business account.”

Lauren turned toward Derek.

“What business account?”

He stared at Melissa.

That was the first moment I saw my daughter look genuinely confused.

Melissa reached into the folder again.

“There is something else.”

She placed a document on the hood of Nancy’s car.

At the top were the words FUTURE OWNERSHIP AUTHORIZATION.

It stated that I had agreed to transfer the property to Lauren after the summer.

At the bottom was my name.

And underneath it was a signature.

My signature.

Or something close enough to fool a stranger.

I stared at it.

Lauren spoke quietly.

“Mom?”

I picked up the paper.

The shape of the E was wrong.

Tom used to tease me because my capital E always leaned backward.

This one didn’t.

“Where did you get this?”

Melissa pointed toward Derek.

Lauren looked at him too.

“You told me Mom signed that in March.”

Derek’s face tightened.

“She knew what we were planning.”

I looked directly at him.

“No, I didn’t.”

Lauren took the document from my hand.

“Derek.”

He reached for it.

She pulled it away.

“Did my mother sign this?”

“Lauren, not here.”

“Did she sign it?”

He didn’t answer.

My phone vibrated in my purse.

I almost ignored it.

Then I saw the notification.

It was from my bank’s fraud department.

I opened it while everyone was still arguing beside the driveway.

There had been an attempted loan application connected to property I had recently sold.

The amount was $275,000.

The applicant name was mine.

The collateral listed was the Lake Geneva house.

And the contact number attached to the application belonged to Derek.

I read the screen twice.

Then I handed the phone to Rebecca.

She read it without speaking.

Lauren watched her face.

“What is it?”

Rebecca gave the phone back to me.

I turned the screen toward my daughter.

Lauren read the message.

Her eyes stopped on the phone number.

Then she looked at her husband.

This time there was no defense in her voice.

“Derek.”

He said nothing.

Lauren stepped away from him.

“What else did you use my mother’s name for?”

For the first time since she’d told me to stay away from my own house, Lauren wasn’t looking at me like I was the problem.

And for the first time, Derek didn’t have an answer.

The Question Derek Wouldn’t Answer

Derek finally reached for the phone.

“Let me see that.”

I put it back in my purse.

“No.”

It was a small word, but it stopped him.

Lauren was still staring at her husband.

“You applied for a loan in my mother’s name?”

“It wasn’t completed.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Derek glanced at Rebecca.

“I think we should be careful about what we’re accusing people of.”

Rebecca closed her folder.

“That’s probably the first sensible thing you’ve said today.”

Derek’s jaw tightened.

I didn’t argue with him.

There was nothing useful left to argue about.

Rebecca told me to contact the bank’s fraud department immediately and not sign, approve, or discuss anything Derek put in front of me.

Melissa began gathering the rental documents.

Lauren stood beside the SUV with her arms folded.

“Mom, I knew about the rentals.”

I looked at her.

“I figured that out.”

“But I didn’t know about the loan.”

Derek shook his head.

“Lauren, stop talking.”

She turned on him.

“Don’t tell me to stop talking.”

He lowered his voice.

“You’re upset. You’re going to say something you don’t mean.”

“Did you use her name?”

Derek looked toward the house.

That was enough.

Lauren took her car keys from her pocket.

“I’m going home.”

“We came together.”

“Then find another ride.”

She got into the SUV and drove away.

Her paddleboards were still strapped to the roof.