Chapter 7 - The Secret Gerald’s Wife Took to Her Grave
Gerald asked us to close every curtain.
Then he walked toward a cabinet near the dining room.
He opened the lowest drawer.
It was empty.
“Your mother kept a blue recipe box here,” he told Kenneth.
Kenneth frowned.
“Giselle took it after she died.”
Gerald looked at Aaron.
“Of course she did.”
I leaned against the counter.
“What was in it?”
Gerald rubbed his jaw.
“Not recipes.”
He sat down again.
“When Margaret and I got married, we had almost nothing. Her father ran the bookkeeping office for three farm cooperatives. Margaret learned accounting before she learned to drive.”
I had known my mother-in-law as a soft-spoken woman who baked pecan pies and hated being photographed.
I had never known she understood financial records.
“She handled Crawford Grain’s books?” I asked.
“For the first twelve years.”
“What changed?”
“Raymond.”
Gerald’s younger brother had joined the company after several failed businesses.
According to Gerald, Raymond was charming, ambitious, and always convinced the next deal would make everyone rich.
Margaret never trusted him.
“She kept copies of everything he signed.”
Aaron leaned forward.
“Why?”
“Because she said Raymond remembered the truth differently depending on who was asking.”
That sounded exactly like him.
Gerald continued.
“About a year before the farmers’ money disappeared, Margaret noticed someone had begun accessing our accounts after midnight.”
“Raymond?”
“She thought so.”
“But?”
Gerald looked toward Kenneth.
“Some of the access codes were yours.”
Kenneth’s face tightened.
“I told you he used my login.”
“I know.”
“Did Mom?”
“I tried to convince her.”
Tried.
The word hung there.
“Did she believe you?” I asked.
Gerald looked down.
“Not completely.”
That explained more than I wanted it to.
The family had spent five years believing Gerald destroyed them.
But perhaps Margaret had lived her final years believing one of her sons helped.
“When Dad pleaded guilty,” Aaron said, “Mom stopped speaking to me.”
Gerald looked at him.
“Why?”
“She thought I was helping Kenneth hide something.”
Kenneth stared at his brother.
“You never told me.”
“You were busy pretending everything was normal.”
Aaron’s voice sharpened.
“I begged Mom to give me the records she had copied. She refused.”
“Why?”
“Because she said she was waiting for proof.”
Gerald’s breathing slowed.
“What proof?”
Aaron looked directly at him.
“That Raymond had not acted alone.”
Silence.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Giselle.
Dinner tonight. 6 PM. Mercer family coming. Keep Dad away. I mean it.
I showed the others.
Gerald gave a bitter smile.
“Keep Dad away.”
Aaron took a screenshot.
“Tell her you will.”
I looked at him.
“You want us to lie?”
“I want them comfortable.”
“Why?”
“Because comfortable people make mistakes.”
Kenneth rubbed his forehead.
“Justin doesn’t deserve to have his wedding destroyed.”
Gerald’s face softened.
“No. He doesn’t.”
“Then leave him out of it.”
Aaron stared at Kenneth.
“You still don’t understand.”
“What?”
“If the Mercer family is involved in buying Dad’s land with forged paperwork, the wedding is already part of it.”
Kenneth paced.
“Olivia isn’t like that.”
“How well do you know her father?”
“Not well.”
“Exactly.”
I texted Giselle.
Fine. Gerald will stay elsewhere tonight.
Her response arrived within seconds.
Thank you. Please don’t create another scene.
Another scene.
As if picking up an abandoned sixty-eight-year-old man from prison was somehow my embarrassment.
At 5:40 p.m., we drove to a motel two miles away.
At least that was what Giselle believed.
Instead, Gerald and Aaron parked behind the feed store across the road from our house.
Kenneth remained inside.
I changed clothes, repaired my makeup, and opened the door at six.
Giselle arrived first.
Justin followed with Olivia.
Then came Samuel Mercer and his wife, Diane.
Samuel was in his early sixties, silver-haired and polished, with the kind of smile that made you feel as if he already knew your bank balance.
He shook Kenneth’s hand.
Then mine.
“Melanie. Lovely home.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes traveled around the room.
Not admiring.
Measuring.
He looked toward the hallway.
“Gerald isn’t here?”
My stomach tightened.
Giselle answered too quickly.
“No.”
Samuel smiled.
“Probably for the best.”
Kenneth heard it.
His expression changed.
“Why?”
Samuel lifted his wineglass.
“Small towns have long memories.”
Justin glanced at Olivia.
She looked embarrassed.
Dinner began.
For twenty minutes, everyone pretended we were normal.
Then Samuel brought out a leather portfolio.
“I thought we could handle one final piece of business while we’re all together.”
Giselle smiled.
“Of course.”
He removed several pages.
Kenneth frowned.
“What business?”
“Transfer authorization.”
“For what?”
Samuel looked at him.
“The north acreage.”
I watched Giselle.
Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Samuel continued.
“Once Gerald’s release paperwork is processed, we’ll need to move quickly before there are complications.”
I slowly set down my glass.
“What complications?”
Samuel’s eyes shifted toward me.
“Nothing concerning.”
“Then explain.”
Giselle interrupted.
“Melanie.”
“No. I’m curious.”
Samuel smiled politely.
“The property sale has been arranged for months.”
“By whom?”
“Gerald’s authorized representative.”
“Giselle?”
His smile weakened.
“Yes.”
I looked at my sister-in-law.
“You told me this morning you knew nothing about his paperwork.”
“I said I didn’t know about the insurance folder.”
“Different lie. Understood.”
Justin stared at his mother.
“Mom?”
“Stay out of this.”
Samuel placed the papers down.
“We don’t need drama.”
I nearly laughed.
“Then you chose the wrong dining room.”
Kenneth picked up the contract.
“Why is my signature on this?”
Samuel blinked.
“You witnessed it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
The room went silent.
Giselle went pale.
Samuel looked toward her.
She stared at Kenneth.
“Kenny.”
“Don’t call me that. I did not sign this.”
Samuel’s voice became colder.
“Are you suggesting the document was forged?”
“Yes.”
Olivia whispered, “Dad?”
He ignored her.
I leaned forward.
“And there’s something else.”
Giselle stared at me.
“What?”
“Gerald never gave you power of attorney.”
Her eyes widened.
There.
Just for a second.
Fear.
The front door opened.
Gerald walked inside.
No one spoke.
He wore the fresh shirt I had packed for him that morning.
New sandals.
Clean jeans.
Nothing expensive.
Nothing shameful.
Just a father entering his own home.
Samuel Mercer stood.
Gerald looked straight at him.
“Hello, Sam.”
Samuel’s confidence vanished.
“Gerald.”
“You look surprised.”
Samuel slowly closed the portfolio.
“I thought you were staying elsewhere.”
Gerald smiled.
“So did a lot of people.”
Then Aaron entered behind him.
Olivia gasped.
Justin stood.
Giselle dropped her wineglass.
It shattered.
Aaron looked at Samuel.
“Good evening.”
Samuel whispered, “You’re dead.”
No one moved.
May you like
Aaron’s expression went completely still.
“I think you just said something very important.”
