The next morning, I received a call from my attorney.
He wanted me to come to his office.
There were additional matters concerning the loan application, and he wanted to review the documents with me in person.
I agreed.
Before leaving, I checked the two renovation binders.
The first contained the purchase and construction records.
The second held the tax and insurance information.
I placed both inside a large bag.
Then I checked the safe place where I kept the trust papers.
I didn't want to forget anything.
The drive to his office was quiet.
I kept thinking about Derek's message from the previous night.
"I hope we can fix things."
I wanted that too.
But I couldn't pretend the financial documents didn't exist.
When I arrived, my attorney greeted me and showed me to his office.
He had several papers spread across his desk.
I recognized some of them.
Others were documents I hadn't seen before.
He asked me to sit down.
Then he began explaining what he had discovered.
Derek had represented the villa as his personal asset on a loan application.
I had already known that.
What I needed to understand was how the information related to the ownership records.
My attorney showed me the relevant paperwork.
I read it carefully.
There was no completed transfer placing the property in Derek's name.
The trust documents were clear.
The property belonged to the trust.
I was its sole trustee and beneficiary.
I looked at my attorney.
"Did Derek know that?"
He said he couldn't tell me what Derek knew or believed.
I understood.
He could explain the records.
He couldn't tell me what had been happening inside my son's mind.
I looked down again.
The old quitclaim deed was among the papers.
My signature was still there.
I remembered signing it.
I remembered Derek telling me he wanted to make things easier.
I remembered the carnations.
I wished I had asked more questions that day.
My attorney turned to the financial documents again.
He explained that the loan application raised a separate concern from the family disagreement over the move-in.
I listened.
He advised me to preserve the records and avoid making assumptions about matters that would need further review.
I agreed.
Then he opened one of the renovation binders.
He looked through the permits.
He checked several invoices.
He examined the inspection records Tommy had helped me collect.
"These are useful records."
I nodded.
"I kept everything."
He looked at the figures.
Eighty-five thousand dollars for the original cottage.
Two hundred and forty-seven thousand in renovation costs.
Another one hundred and twenty thousand in taxes and insurance over twenty years.
More than four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I had never imagined that I would need to explain those numbers to someone because my son was claiming the house as his.
My attorney asked whether I had any additional documents showing the property had been maintained.
I told him I had kept the records I could find.
He said that was helpful.
We spent another hour reviewing the paperwork.
Before I left, he reminded me that the trust documents needed to remain secure.
I thanked him.
Outside, the sun was bright.
I sat in my car without starting the engine.
I felt tired.
Not because the meeting had been difficult.
Because every document seemed to bring back another memory.
The old cottage.
The broken porch.
The bathroom tile.
Arthur's insurance money.
Derek's visit.
The carnations.
I had never wanted any of those memories to become part of a dispute.
I wanted the villa to be a place where family could gather.
I wanted the porch swing to be used by people I loved.
I wanted the house to remain a home.
Instead, I was sitting in a parking lot reviewing evidence that my son had used property he didn't own when seeking credit.
I finally started the car.
On the way home, I stopped for groceries.
I bought bread, milk, and a few vegetables.
I also bought a small bunch of flowers.
Nothing expensive.
Just flowers for the kitchen table.
When I arrived at the villa, I placed the groceries away.
Then I put the flowers in the old glass vase.
The same vase that had once held the carnations Derek brought six years earlier.
I looked at it for a moment.
Then I moved it to the center of the table.
I didn't want one bad memory to take away every good one.
But I wasn't going to let a good memory make me ignore what had happened either.
That evening, I called Tommy.
I told him my attorney had reviewed the binders.
He said he was glad the records had been useful.
I thanked him again.
He reminded me that I had done most of the work myself.
I smiled.
"Not all of it."
He laughed.
"Enough of it."
After we ended the call, I sat outside.
The Gulf was calm.
I could hear the water moving against the shore.
I thought about how much of my life had gone into that property.
And I knew I would never again allow someone to treat it as though my work and my name meant nothing.
Click here to continue reading: PART 18: I Received Another Message From Megan, and Her Words Forced Me to Face What Had Happened Between Two Families
The Afternoon My Son Told Me I Had Lost the Right to Enter the House I Had Spent Twenty Years Building
Part 17 of 24
