When I opened the front door, Samantha’s confidence snapped like cheap glass.
Standing on my porch were:
— Detective Alvarez from Santa Barbara County
— My attorney, Ms. Porter
— A uniformed officer
— And the Deputy District Attorney
All four looking very awake for five in the morning.
Samantha blinked rapidly, clutching her fake deed.
“W-what is this?” she stammered.
Ms. Porter stepped forward first, briefcase in hand.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bishop,” she said to me calmly. Then she turned to Samantha. “And good morning to you, Ms. Carter. We’re here regarding the fraudulent transfer documents you attempted to use to take possession of this property.”
Samantha’s face drained.
Detective Alvarez held up a tablet.
“We have video of you and a disbarred attorney presenting forged estate documents. We also have text messages, bank statements, and a recorded conversation discussing plans to illegally assume ownership of this residence.”
The officer handed her a folded piece of paper.
“A warrant,” he said.
Samantha let out a small, strangled laugh.
“This is insane. Eleanor SIGNED the papers! She GAVE me the house!”
I sipped my chamomile tea.
“Yes,” I said sweetly, “and those papers were witnessed by two cameras, examined by the district attorney’s office, and confirmed to be fraudulent by the state bar. Signing a fake deed doesn’t make it real, dear. It just makes you easier to prosecute.”
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Behind her, the movers stopped mid-step, holding my teak patio chairs in the air like a still frame from a comedy.
Detective Alvarez turned to them.
“Gentlemen, step away from the property. You’ve unknowingly been assisting in attempted real-estate fraud.”
They backed up FAST.
Samantha spun toward Daniel, who had just arrived at the gate—hair messy, pajama pants, absolutely clueless.
“DANIEL! Say something! Tell them this is a misunderstanding!”
He looked at her… then at the police… then at me.
“Sam… what did you do?”
That was the first time I’d heard fear in his voice since he was seven years old.
Samantha lost it.
“She’s OLD! She gets confused! Everyone knows she’s losing her mind! She signed the deed without even reading it!”
Ms. Porter opened her folder.
“Mrs. Bishop has undergone full cognitive testing by three specialists. She is legally, medically, and mentally sound. But YOU, Ms. Carter—are in a great deal of trouble.”
The detective nodded.
“You’re being charged with:
• Attempted grand theft
• Filing a fraudulent deed
• Elder financial abuse
• Conspiracy to commit fraud”
Samantha staggered backward.
“No… no… Daniel, HELP ME!”
Daniel stepped away from her.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
And finally—finally—he looked at me with something like shame.
The officer took Samantha’s wrists gently.
“Ma’am, please turn around.”
The cuffs clicked.
She screamed.
“This isn’t FAIR! SHE’S RICH! SHE CAN AFFORD IT!”
I wrapped my terracotta blanket tighter.
“I didn’t earn this house so someone else could steal it,” I said. “I earned it so I could decide who’s welcome in it.”
As they walked her toward the patrol car, she twisted in panic.
“You can’t do this! Eleanor, PLEASE! PLEASE!”
I took another sip of tea as the sun rose over the water, golden and calm.
Then I said the last words she heard before the door of the patrol car shut:
“I warned you, sweetheart…
You should never underestimate an old accountant.”