Paige insisted on going back to Sherry’s house.
Toby objected immediately.
“No.”
“She’s my mother.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I didn’t say alone.”
She looked at me.
The request surprised me more than anything else that morning.
“You want me with you?”
Paige nodded.
“Yes.”
Toby looked between us. “I’m coming too.”
Harold removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Before anyone goes anywhere, I strongly recommend that you stop treating this as a family argument.”
Toby frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you may be looking at attempted financial fraud.”
The room went silent again.
Harold continued. “Do not threaten anyone. Do not take documents that do not belong to you. Do not secretly destroy or alter anything. If Sherry gives you records voluntarily, preserve them.”
Paige swallowed. “Should we call the police?”
“Possibly. But I want copies of everything first, and I need to confirm what was actually submitted.”
I glanced at the clock. “What deadline did Reed mention?”
Harold checked the proposed option.
“Today.”
My stomach dropped.
“The deposit had to clear today?”
“Yes. If accepted, the buyer receives an exclusive option period.”
“For how long?”
“Ninety days.”
Toby swore softly.
Harold pointed at the date.
“The agreement was structured so that once the deposit posted, further negotiations could begin under the assumption that the beneficiary had consented.”
Paige stared at the page. “Last night’s party.”
We all looked at her.
She sat straighter.
“What?”
“My mother kept insisting the birthday had to be yesterday. Toby wanted the following weekend.”
Toby nodded slowly.
“I had a work thing.”
“She pushed for yesterday anyway.”
I remembered Sherry’s urgency. The expanded guest list. The giant venue. The noise. The spectacle.
Paige’s expression changed.
“She wanted everyone occupied.”
Harold did not confirm it, but he did not dismiss it either.
Toby paced behind his chair. “So while we were supposed to be celebrating, this deposit was being processed?”
“The attempted transaction occurred this morning,” I said.
Harold checked his records.
“The purchase-option submission was finalized electronically at 11:47 last night.”
None of us spoke.
At 11:47 the previous night, Toby had been at my kitchen table eating reheated salmon because his birthday dinner had collapsed.
I had been listening while he apologized.
Paige had arrived later.
And Sherry?
She had gone home.
Paige stood.
“We’re going.”
Harold handed me a small envelope.
“What is this?”
“Copies of the relevant trust restrictions and Leon’s note regarding Sherry. Keep the originals here.”
I placed it in my purse.
Then he addressed Toby.
“Do not let anger make decisions for you.”
Toby gave him a bitter smile.
“I think avoiding anger is how I got here.”
Harold considered that.
“Then use it. Don’t obey it.”
The rain had stopped by the time we returned to Sherry’s neighborhood.
On the drive, Paige barely spoke.
Once, she said, “I keep trying to remember things.”
“What things?” I asked.
“Comments she made.”
Toby stared out the passenger window.
“About money?”
“About everything.”
Paige twisted her wedding ring.
“When Dad left, money was always tight. Mom became obsessed with never being vulnerable again. She checked credit scores before I dated seriously. She asked what people’s parents did. She called it being realistic.”
Toby turned toward her.
“She knew about my family trust?”
“I didn’t.”
“But she might have.”
Paige nodded reluctantly.
“She knew your father owned property. She knew you were an only child.”
I watched her in the rearview mirror.
“Paige, none of this means you’re responsible for what she did.”
She looked at me.
“I kept telling you to let her handle things.”
“Yes.”
“I removed you from the planning group.”
“Yes.”
Her face tightened.
“I thought you were making everything harder.”
“I know.”
She stared at her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
It was not a perfect apology.
Perfect apologies do not exist.
But unlike Toby’s first apology, Paige’s came without asking me to erase what had happened.
“Thank you,” I said.
Sherry opened the door before we knocked.
This time she seemed prepared.
Her clothes were changed. Her hair was styled. The living room had been cleaned. Every paper that had covered the coffee table was gone.
She looked at Paige.
“I knew you’d come back.”
Paige stepped inside.
“Where are the documents?”
“What documents?”
“The birthday paperwork.”
“I threw away the trash.”
Toby entered behind us. “When?”
“This morning.”
“How convenient.”
Sherry’s jaw tightened.
“I will not be interrogated in my own house.”
Paige walked to the desk where Toby had found the earlier pages.
The drawer was empty.
“You cleared everything.”
“I organized.”
“Where is it?”
“Paige.”
Her voice changed into something soft and maternal.
It was astonishing how quickly she could become wounded.
“I have spent my entire life trying to protect you.”
Paige’s shoulders tensed.
“From Mara?”
“From uncertainty.”
“You forged my name.”
Sherry’s expression barely moved.
“No.”
“Toby’s too?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
I stepped forward.
“Calvin Reed says you introduced the deal.”
Sherry looked at me.
For the first time since this began, she did not deny knowing him.
“He is an investor.”
“You told him Toby wanted to sell.”
“I told him Toby might be open to an opportunity.”
“Toby wasn’t.”
“That doesn’t make the conversation illegal.”
“No. The forged documents might.”
Her face hardened.
“You think a few papers give you the right to accuse me of crimes?”
“No,” I said. “The papers give me the right to ask questions. The answers will determine the rest.”
Paige walked toward the hallway.
Sherry moved quickly.
“Where are you going?”
“Your office.”
“No.”
Paige stopped.
“Why?”
“Because my private files are none of your business.”
Paige stared at her.
“When you forged my signature, they became my business.”
“I did not forge anything.”
“Then let me look.”
Sherry stood in the hallway.
That refusal was its own answer.
Toby took out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Sherry demanded.
“Calling Harold.”
“For what?”
“To ask whether we should call the police now.”
Sherry’s expression changed.
“Don’t be stupid.”
Toby froze.
I had heard her speak to him dismissively before, but this time something in his face closed.
He tapped Harold’s number.
Sherry said, “Toby, if law enforcement gets involved, Paige will be dragged into this too.”
Paige went still.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said my name.”
“I said you’ll be dragged into family ugliness.”
“No. You meant something else.”
Sherry turned away.
Paige followed her.
“What did you put in my name?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you put in my name?”
“Paige, lower your voice.”
“No.”
That single word was perhaps the most important thing Paige had said all day.
Her mother stopped.
Paige stepped closer.
“All my life, you tell me to lower my voice. Don’t embarrass anyone. Don’t ask questions at the wrong time. Don’t make scenes. Don’t upset people.”
Her voice shook.
“I’m done lowering it.”
Sherry looked almost stunned.
Paige walked past her into the hallway.
We followed.
Sherry’s home office was at the back of the house.
The door was locked.
Paige turned.
“Key.”
“No.”
Toby ended his call without speaking.
“I’m calling the police.”
Sherry’s composure cracked.
“For God’s sake.”
She pulled a small key from her pocket and threw it onto a side table.
Paige picked it up.
The door opened.
The office was small, immaculate, and dominated by a wide desk with two filing cabinets beneath it.
No scattered papers.
No visible contracts.
Then Toby noticed a cardboard archive box near the shredder.
He crouched.
Inside were strips of recently shredded paper.
Paige whispered, “Mom.”
Sherry remained in the doorway.
“Old records.”
I moved toward the desk.
I did not open drawers. Harold had warned us.
Instead I looked at what was already visible.
A desk calendar.
Several dates were circled.
One was Toby’s birthday.
Beside it, Sherry had written:
Venue event — M occupied.
Below that:
Option finalized by 11:59.
I stared at the words.
“Toby.”
He came over.
His face changed.
Paige read the notes over his shoulder.
“M occupied,” she said.
I felt something cold move through me.
The giant birthday party had not simply been an extravagant distraction.
It had been scheduled.
Timed.
Designed.
Sherry entered the office.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
Toby pointed at the calendar.
“What does ‘M occupied’ mean?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You wrote it next to Mom’s name.”
“No, I wrote an initial.”
“And the option?”
“Business.”
“What business?”
No answer.
Paige opened her phone and photographed the calendar.
Sherry lunged forward.
“Don’t.”
Paige stepped back.
“You said it proves nothing.”
Her mother stopped.
Paige took three more photographs.
Then she noticed an envelope beneath the calendar.
It was addressed to Sherry.
The return address belonged to Calvin Reed’s company.
Paige did not open it.
She turned it over.
The back flap was already torn.
Inside, visible without removing anything, was a check stub.
$18,500.
Payee: Sherry Lamb Consulting.
Toby stared.
“Consulting?”
Sherry’s face collapsed.
Not with guilt.
With defeat.
She sat down.
Paige’s voice became very quiet.
“Mom, what did you do?”
Sherry looked at her daughter.
“I tried to secure your future.”
Toby shook his head.
“You tried to steal ours.”
Sherry’s eyes flashed.
“You don’t understand what Mara controls.”
I felt every muscle in my body tense.
There it was.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
Control.
“You knew about the trust,” I said.
Sherry looked at me.
“For years.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Sherry Finally Admitted Why She Wanted Control of the Cabin, but Her Explanation Exposed a Second Plan Involving Toby’s Marriage
I Planned My Son’s Fortieth Birthday With Twenty-Four Chairs, Until Someone Quietly Decided Mine Was the One They Could Remove
Part 7 of 47
