PART 10 – Patrice Asked Me Not to Guess What the Documents Meant, So We Began With the Pages Dale Had Expected Me to Stamp

Patrice closed the front blinds.

She did not lock the door.

She simply wanted a little privacy while we worked.

I sat behind my station with the folder in front of me.

For a few moments, I couldn't make myself open it again.

Dale had stood at that counter countless times in my imagination.

I had imagined confronting him in the kitchen.

I had imagined finding messages on his phone.

I had imagined Ashley discovering the truth.

I had never imagined all three of us meeting beside my scissors and a bottle of disinfectant.

Patrice sat across from me.

"Before we do anything, I want to be clear about something."

I looked up.

"We don't yet know everything these documents contain. We also don't know whether every statement Ashley made is accurate."

I nodded.

"I understand."

"We'll work from what we can establish."

She opened the folder.

The first pages contained business information and figures.

Some were familiar from the conversations Dale had brought home over the years.

Others meant very little to me.

Patrice read carefully.

She did not pretend to understand a page before examining it.

I found myself watching her hands.

They moved slowly.

No rushing.

No guessing.

When she reached the signature sections, she stopped.

"Did you sign any of these?"

"Not today."

"I mean previously. Have you seen these exact documents before?"

I studied the pages.

"I don't think so."

She placed them in a separate pile.

"Then we'll note that. We won't make assumptions."

I told her about the papers Dale had brought to our kitchen table.

I described how he used to point to the signature lines.

I remembered signing insurance documents and forms connected to the house.

I could not say whether those papers were related to the documents in the folder.

Patrice wrote down what I said.

She asked whether I had kept copies.

I shook my head.

Dale had always handled the filing.

At the time, I had thought that was convenient.

Now it felt like trying to remember a house after somebody had removed all the labels from the doors.

We continued through the folder.

Patrice made notes about the pages that needed closer review.

She asked me not to sign anything related to the matter until she had examined it properly.

I agreed.

I had no intention of giving Dale another signature simply because he placed a pen in my hand.

When we finished, Patrice closed the folder.

"What we have right now is a reason to investigate. It isn't yet a complete picture."

I rubbed my palms against my skirt.

"What if he has already signed my name?"

"Then we'll need to find out where and when. We may need records and other evidence."

"Can he just put debts on me?"

"That depends on the documents, the circumstances, and the law. We need to establish the facts before I can give you a reliable answer."

I appreciated her honesty.

I had spent years listening to Dale speak with certainty about things I didn't understand.

Patrice was willing to tell me when she didn't know enough.

That made me trust her more.

I looked at the folder.

"Can I keep a copy of everything?"

"We'll arrange for the documents to be preserved and reviewed appropriately. For now, don't alter anything."

She reminded me that I had not notarized the papers.

I had not certified the signatures.

I had not agreed to anything.

Those facts mattered.

They were small, but they were mine.

Patrice asked me to continue recording what Ashley had told me during her appointments.

I told her I had already written down most of it.

"Keep the original notes," she said. "Don't rewrite them to make them sound more convincing. Accuracy matters more than presentation."

I thought of the appointment book beneath my towels.

I had written those entries because I feared I would forget.

Now the same pages might help establish a timeline.

I felt no satisfaction in that.

I would have preferred to discover that I had misunderstood everything.

I would have preferred to throw the book away.

But the truth did not become less serious because I wished it were different.

Patrice gathered her things.

"Carol, you need to think about your immediate safety and your practical arrangements. Do you have somewhere you can stay if things become difficult at home?"

I told her I had family I could contact, although I had not spoken to them about the situation yet.

She encouraged me to make a plan.

I nodded.

I was not ready to pack a bag that afternoon.

I was ready to stop pretending that nothing had happened.

After Patrice left, I sat alone in the salon.

The sun had moved across the floor.

A few strands of hair lay beneath my chair.

I swept them into a dustpan.

Then I wiped the counter.

The folder was no longer there.

The notary stamp remained beside the mirror.

I looked at the certificate hanging above it.

Eleven years of work.

Eleven years of treating a signature as something that belonged to the person who made it.

I had never imagined my own signature might need protecting from my husband.

I took out my appointment book.

The pages opened easily to the latest entry.

I wrote down what had happened that afternoon.

Dale arrived with the folder.

Patrice was present.

No notarization occurred.

I recorded the time.

Then I closed the book.

I didn't add anything about how frightened I had been.

That was something I would remember without ink.

When I left the salon, the white Lexus was gone.

Dale's truck was gone, too.

The parking space looked ordinary again.

I sat in my car for a few minutes before turning the key.

I was going home to the same house.

But I was no longer going home with the same understanding of what waited there.

Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Dale Came Home Expecting Me to Apologize for Embarrassing Him, but I Had Finally Learned to Let Silence Work for Me