“What?”
“If Mom has power of attorney,” I said, very evenly, “why doesn’t she just sign it for me?”
For a second, just a second, my father’s face went completely blank.
Then he recovered.
“The title company wants you in person. Some rule about military and real estate. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Just go sign it.”
So they’d already tried.
They’d walked into a title company with a forged power of attorney and tried to sign my house away while I was on the other side of the world. And somebody at the title company had stopped them.
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
My father’s tone changed.
It got quiet. Quiet was always worse with my father.
“I still have connections, Kate.”
I waited.
“You’re up for major this spring,” he said. “Brandt’s on your board. I’ve known Tom Brandt for fifteen years. It would be a real shame if something came up. Some financial irregularities. Some questions about your judgment. You know how the
Army is about officers with money problems. Security clearances. Background checks.” He shrugged. “It would be a shame if something complicated that process.”
Money problems.
He was threatening to report me for money problems.
Money problems he had created. With money he had stolen.
For several seconds, I just stared at him.
He still thought he was giving me orders.
He still saw me as the daughter who would bend. Who would soak up whatever damage they did and quietly clean up whatever mess they made. The good sister. The one who never asked for anything.
I was holding a plastic cup of lemonade. I raised it and took a slow drink.
Then I smiled.
“I’ll make sure the paperwork is handled exactly as it should be, Dad.”
