Chapter 7 - Brittany Was Never Her Friend
Jessica refused to believe it.
“Brittany wouldn't.”
The detective said nothing.
He didn't need to.
The photograph was clear.
Brittany stood beside Evan outside my house three weeks before the rainy afternoon.
“What were they doing there?”
Jessica asked.
“We're still investigating.”
“I introduced them once.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Did Brittany know about the investment?”
“Yes.”
“Did she encourage it?”
Jessica's face slowly changed.
“Yes.”
I remembered Oakridge Mall.
The shopping bags.
The laughter.
Brittany hadn't simply been an audience to Jessica's cruelty.
She had been feeding it.
Jessica stared at the photograph.
“She kept telling me Mom was controlling.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“She said you used money to keep me dependent.”
I almost laughed at the irony.
“She said normal adults don't have mothers asking where their money goes.”
“I asked because I was paying your bills.”
“I know that now.”
The detective leaned forward.
“Jessica, did Brittany ever encourage you to get access to additional money?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She said if Mom loved me, she'd want me to build something.”
“Did she specifically mention the house?”
Jessica nodded.
My stomach turned.
Brittany had known.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
Police told us not to contact her.
That lasted four hours.
Then Brittany contacted me.
She walked into my sewing shop just before closing.
I was alone.
I immediately reached for my phone.
“Don't,” she said.
“Leave.”
“Mrs. Higgins, please.”
“I said leave.”
“Jessica thinks I betrayed her.”
“Did you?”
Brittany started crying.
I didn't move.
Tears no longer automatically earned access to my sympathy.
“I didn't know what Evan was doing.”
“You stood outside my house with him.”
“He asked me to show him where Jessica lived.”
“She didn't live there anymore.”
“At the time she did.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to surprise her.”
“With what?”
“A proposal.”
I stared.
“What?”
Brittany nodded.
“He told me he was going to ask Jessica to marry him.”
That explained more.
Jessica hadn't mentioned marriage.
Maybe because admitting it would make the humiliation worse.
“Did you receive money from him?”
Brittany looked down.
There.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand.”
“For what?”
“Introducing him to Jessica.”
I felt sick.
“You sold access to my daughter.”
“No!”
“What would you call it?”
“I thought he was a real estate guy. He said he paid referral fees.”
“Did you tell Jessica?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Because you knew it was wrong.”
She cried harder.
I did not comfort her.
Then she said:
“The day it rained…”
I waited.
“He told me to keep Jessica away from you.”
My skin went cold.
“Why?”
“He knew the mortgage company might call.”
“What?”
“He was afraid you'd talk to her and she would back out.”
Suddenly the entire rainy afternoon looked different.
Brittany had encouraged Jessica to go shopping.
Encouraged her not to pick me up.
Laughed when I called.
She had helped create the moment that broke us.
But Jessica had still made the choice.
That mattered too.
“You need to tell the police everything.”
“I can't.”
“Then leave.”
“He'll hurt me.”
“Then police are exactly who you need.”
“I already lied to them.”
“That is your problem.”
She stared at me.
“You're cold.”
Maybe once that would have hurt.
Instead, I said:
“No. I finally learned that helping someone doesn't mean protecting them from consequences.”
She looked at me.
Then nodded slowly.
“I guess Jessica learned that from you.”
“No.”
I picked up my phone.
“She learned the opposite from me.”
I called the detective.
Brittany eventually cooperated.
Her information helped police locate Evan.
But before they arrested him, he disappeared.
For six days.
During those six days, Jessica began rebuilding her life.
Not dramatically.
Slowly.
She found a temporary job answering phones at a dental office.
She rented a tiny studio.
No fancy furniture.
No designer handbags.
She started making payments toward the fraudulent credit card.
I didn't pay one cent.
That was important.
We ate dinner together once a week.
Neutral ground.
A diner.
She apologized for the rain.
Not once.
Several times.
But I told her something she didn't expect.
“I forgive you.”
She cried.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then can things go back?”
“No.”
She stared.
“Forgiveness isn't a time machine.”
That sentence stayed with her.
One Friday, Jessica came to my sewing shop after work.
She was wearing a cheap blouse I'd never seen.
“Thrift store,” she said proudly.
“Four dollars.”
I inspected it.
“Overpriced.”
She laughed.
I smiled.
Progress sometimes looks very small.
Then a black SUV stopped outside.
My smile disappeared.
A man stepped out.
Jessica went pale.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“That's Evan.”
He walked toward the shop.
I reached for my phone.
Jessica whispered:
“He isn't supposed to know I'm here.”
The door opened.
The little bell above it rang.
Evan smiled.
“Jessica.”
She stepped in front of me.
That surprised both of us.
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.”
“Police are looking for you.”
His smile faded.
“I know.”
I quietly dialed 911.
Evan saw.
He locked the door.
Then reached inside his coat.
Jessica grabbed my arm.
But he didn't pull out a weapon.
He pulled out documents.
He threw them onto my cutting table.
“You think I'm the bad guy?”
“Yes,” I said.
He laughed.
“Then you should look at what your daughter signed.”
Jessica stared.
“What?”
I picked up the papers.
My heart sank.
They were not mortgage papers.
They were business documents.
Jessica had signed as an authorized representative of a company I'd never heard of.
And according to those documents, more than $300,000 had passed through an account connected to her name.
Evan smiled.
“You think fourteen thousand dollars is your biggest problem?”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
He looked toward the window.
Then back at Jessica.
“You have no idea what you got involved in.”
May you like
And before police reached the shop, Evan ran through the back door.
Leaving us with documents that could send my daughter to prison.
