Chapter 6 - The Loan Application With My Name
The woman outside pounded on Grandpa’s door again.
“Robert Parker!”
Lillian’s voice came through Mason’s phone.
“Do not let her inside.”
Grandpa stared toward the hallway.
“Why?”
There was a pause.
Then Lillian said:
“Because my daughter is the person who put Amelia’s name on the loan application.”
Everything stopped.
I looked at Mason.
He looked at Ava.
Mom backed into the edge of Grandpa’s desk.
The woman outside knocked again.
Harder.
“Amelia!”
My skin went cold.
She knew I was here.
Grandpa picked up his cane.
“What’s her name?”
Lillian didn’t answer immediately.
“Lillian.”
“Rebecca.”
Grandpa closed his eyes.
Something about the name bothered him.
I saw it immediately.
“You know her too?”
He looked at me.
“I knew a Rebecca Mercer.”
The woman outside shouted again.
“I know you’re listening!”
Grandpa’s expression changed.
“She would be about forty-five now.”
Lillian whispered:
“Forty-six.”
Mom looked between them.
“What is happening?”
Grandpa ignored her.
“Rebecca was twelve the last time I saw her.”
“Yes.”
“You took her with you.”
“Yes.”
“When everyone believed you died.”
Silence.
Then Lillian said:
“That part is more complicated.”
I almost laughed.
Of course it was.
Everything in this family was complicated whenever someone needed time to decide which truth was least damaging.
I stepped toward the hallway.
Grandpa reached out.
“No.”
“She’s calling my name.”
“That doesn’t mean you open the door.”
“It’s my name on the paperwork.”
“And apparently several people have learned to use it without permission.”
Fair.
I stopped.
Mason walked toward the front window.
He moved the curtain slightly.
“What do you see?” Grandpa asked.
“One woman.”
“Alone?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“What car?”
Mason looked again.
“Black Mercedes.”
Ava suddenly stood.
“What model?”
He glanced at her.
“E-Class.”
Ava’s face drained.
I noticed.
“You know it.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You absolutely know it.”
“Lots of people drive black Mercedes.”
“Not enough for you to look like that.”
Mason moved away from the curtain.
“Ava.”
She folded her arms.
“What?”
“Was that the car at Briarwood?”
Silence.
“Ava.”
“Yes.”
Mom whispered:
“Oh my God.”
I looked at her.
“You met Rebecca?”
Ava shook her head.
“I didn’t know that was her name.”
“What name did she give you?”
Ava hesitated.
“Beth.”
Lillian made a sound through the phone.
Not surprise.
Pain.
Grandpa looked at the speaker.
“Beth?”
Lillian said quietly:
“It was her grandmother’s name.”
Another pounding at the door.
Then Rebecca called:
“Mother, I know you’re on the phone.”
Everyone looked at Mason’s device.
Lillian stopped talking.
My heart began pounding.
How did Rebecca know?
Grandpa asked the question.
“How does she know you’re on speaker?”
Lillian answered:
“She probably doesn’t.”
Rebecca shouted from outside:
“And Mason Reed is standing in Robert’s study pretending he doesn’t know why this happened.”
Mason went completely still.
I looked at him.
“Mason?”
He shook his head.
“I have no idea how she knows I’m here.”
Rebecca laughed from the porch.
We could hear it through the door.
“Ask him about Northline Capital.”
Mason’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Grandpa caught it.
“What is Northline Capital?”
Mason said nothing.
Ava stared at him.
“Mason.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“One of the lenders.”
“One of?” I repeated.
He looked at me.
“The financing package was circulated.”
“To how many?”
“Three initially.”
“Initially?”
“Five.”
I stared at him.
“You sent an application containing my identity to five lenders?”
“Not the same application.”
“That’s supposed to help?”
“No.”
Grandpa’s voice became cold.
“Which lender received the forged version?”
Mason hesitated.
“Northline.”
The phone speaker remained silent.
Too silent.
Lillian was listening.
I asked:
“Who owns Northline Capital?”
Mason looked toward the front door.
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca called through it immediately:
“Tell her.”
My stomach dropped.
Mason stared toward the hallway.
Grandpa said:
“Apparently she does.”
Mason pulled out his own phone.
He searched something.
Then handed it to Grandpa.
Northline Capital Partners.
Private commercial financing.
Asset-backed lending.
Grandpa scrolled.
“Registered in Delaware.”
Mason nodded.
“Parent company?”
“Not publicly obvious.”
“Who referred you?”
Mason didn’t answer.
Rebecca shouted:
“Me.”
Ava sat down hard.
I turned toward the door.
“So Rebecca referred you to Northline?”
Mason finally nodded.
“How did you know her?”
“She contacted my office.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
That stopped me.
“Six weeks?”
Before my birthday.
Before Grandpa bought the SUV.
Before BRV Mobility existed.
I looked at Ava.
She seemed just as shocked.
Mason continued.
“She said she represented private capital looking for small transportation startups in Charlotte.”
“But Ava didn’t have a transportation startup six weeks ago.”
“No.”
“Then why did she call you?”
“She didn’t mention Ava.”
The room became still.
“What did she mention?”
Mason looked at me.
“You.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Grandpa stepped forward.
“Explain.”
Mason took a breath.
“She asked whether my firm worked with clients who had family-owned assets that could support startup lending.”
“That could mean anything.”
“Yes.”
“Did she use Amelia’s name?”
“No.”
“Then how did Amelia become involved?”
Mason looked at Ava.
“A month later, Ava contacted me.”
Ava frowned.
“I found you online.”
“You found my website.”
“Yes.”
“Through an advertisement.”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What advertisement?”
Ava shrugged.
“Something about startup funding.”
Mason unlocked his phone.
“Do you remember the wording?”
“No.”
“I do.”
He searched his email.
Then turned the screen toward us.
A screenshot.
BUILD THE BUSINESS YOUR FAMILY NEVER BELIEVED YOU COULD. PRIVATE CAPITAL FOR FOUNDERS WITH ACCESS TO UNDERUSED FAMILY ASSETS.
My stomach turned.
Ava whispered:
“That’s it.”
Mason nodded.
“My company never ran that ad.”
Silence.
“I thought one of my contractors had launched a campaign without approval. I asked around. Nobody knew anything about it.”
Grandpa said:
“Yet you took the lead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mason looked ashamed.
“Because she was willing to pay an upfront fee.”
At least he didn’t pretend.
Ava stared at him.
“So someone targeted me?”
Mason looked toward the front door.
“It seems that way.”
“No.”
Her voice became smaller.
“No, I found you.”
“You found an advertisement someone paid to put in front of you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did I.
But I was starting to.
Someone knew enough about our family to know Ava wanted status.
Enough to know Mom would call my property “family property.”
Enough to know I had steady income.
Enough to know Grandpa had money.
And somehow—
enough to know I might have a beneficial interest in a trust I had never heard of.
I looked at Mom.
“Who knew Grandpa was buying me the SUV?”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Before my birthday.”
“Family.”
“Who specifically?”
“Me. Ava.”
“Anyone else?”
Mom looked away.
That was an answer.
“Mom.”
“I mentioned it to someone.”
“Who?”
“A friend.”
“What friend?”
She hesitated.
“Donna.”
“Donna who?”
“Donna Willis.”
Grandpa frowned.
“I don’t know her.”
“She’s from my book club.”
I stared at Mom.
“You told your book club Grandpa was buying me a car?”
“It came up.”
“Why?”
She became defensive.
“People talk about their children.”
“A forty-thousand-dollar SUV?”
“It wasn’t a state secret.”
“No.”
I looked at Mason’s phone.
“Apparently my financial life wasn’t either.”
Mom flinched.
Rebecca knocked again.
This time more softly.
“Amelia.”
I walked toward the hallway.
Grandpa didn’t stop me immediately.
“Tell me why you’re here,” I called.
Rebecca answered through the door.
“To give you the original loan application.”
Mason’s head snapped up.
“What original?”
“The one you never saw.”
He moved toward the hallway.
Grandpa’s cane blocked him.
“You stay.”
Mason stopped.
I stood ten feet from the front door.
“What’s different about it?”
Rebecca answered:
“The amount.”
I looked at Mason.
“What amount?”
He shook his head.
“The facility was two hundred fifty thousand.”
Rebecca laughed once.
“No.”
Ava stood.
“What does she mean?”
Rebecca spoke clearly.
“The application Mason received was a reduced request.”
Mason stared toward the door.
“That’s impossible.”
“The original credit package was for seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
My stomach dropped.
Ava whispered:
“What?”
Mom gripped the back of a chair.
Grandpa’s face went hard.
Mason shook his head.
“No. Northline’s term sheet capped it at two-fifty.”
“Because they split the package.”
Rebecca’s answer came instantly.
Mason went pale.
Grandpa asked:
“Split it how?”
No answer.
“Rebecca?”
She spoke more quietly.
“Three lending entities.”
I stared at the door.
“Three loans?”
“Yes.”
“In my name?”
A pause.
“One in your name.”
My chest tightened.
“What about the other two?”
Rebecca didn’t answer.
Grandpa looked toward Ava.
She looked terrified.
“Who are the other applicants?” I asked.
Rebecca finally said:
“Open the door and I’ll show you.”
Lillian’s voice exploded from Mason’s phone.
“No.”
It was the loudest I had heard her.
“Amelia, do not open that door.”
Rebecca shouted:
“Stop protecting yourself, Mother!”
Lillian went silent.
I looked back at the phone.
“What does that mean?”
No answer.
“Lillian.”
Rebecca spoke through the door.
“She hasn’t told you why your name is in that trust.”
Grandpa’s expression changed.
“What do you know about the trust?” he demanded.
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“More than she ever told you.”
“Then say it.”
“Not through a door.”
I moved toward the lock.
Grandpa stepped beside me.
“Amelia.”
“I’m not letting her in blindly.”
“Good.”
“I’m opening the inner door and leaving the storm door locked.”
He considered that.
Then nodded.
We had a heavy glass storm door with a separate deadbolt.
Grandpa checked it himself.
Locked.
Then he opened the wooden front door.
Rebecca stood on the porch.
She was tall.
Dark blonde hair cut just above her shoulders.
Black coat.
No purse.
A thick document envelope pressed against her chest.
She looked nothing like the dangerous stranger I had imagined.
She looked tired.
Very tired.
Her eyes moved past me.
Found Grandpa.
For a moment, something passed across her face.
Recognition.
Sadness.
Then anger.
“Robert.”
He stared at her.
“You look like your father.”
Rebecca’s mouth tightened.
“You would know.”
I looked between them.
“Who was her father?”
Neither answered.
I turned toward Rebecca.
“You said you have the original application.”
She lifted the envelope.
“Yes.”
“Slide it under the door.”
“No.”
“Then we’re done.”
She studied me.
For several seconds.
Then crouched.
She pushed the envelope through the narrow mail slot beside the frame.
It fell onto the foyer floor.
I picked it up.
Grandpa said:
“Gloves.”
I almost smiled.
Even now.
He handed me a pair from the study.
I put them on.
Opened the envelope.
Inside was a loan package.
Thirty pages at least.
The front sheet read:
NORTHLINE CAPITAL PARTNERS — CONSOLIDATED ASSET FACILITY
Requested amount:
$750,000.
My name appeared beneath it.
But not as borrower.
I frowned.
“Guarantor.”
Grandpa leaned closer.
“Who is the borrower?”
I turned the page.
BRV Mobility Partners.
Ava whispered behind us:
“Okay.”
Then I saw the second entity.
Briarwood Ventures LLC.
Mom stopped breathing.
The third name was another company.
Parker Residential Holdings.
Grandpa stiffened.
“I have never heard of that company.”
Rebecca called through the glass:
“Look at the managers.”
I flipped forward.
Parker Residential Holdings LLC.
Manager:
Carol Parker.
Mom made a choking sound.
“What?”
I turned toward her.
Her face was blank.
“I didn’t form that.”
Ava stared at her.
“Mom?”
“I swear.”
Grandpa took the document.
“Formation date?”
I checked.
Six months earlier.
Long before Ava’s business.
Long before the SUV.
Grandpa looked toward Rebecca.
“Who created it?”
She shook her head.
“Keep reading.”
I turned another page.
Collateral schedule.
My SUV.
Briarwood Lane.
Then an account number.
Grandpa recognized it first.
His face changed.
“What?” I asked.
He pointed.
“That’s the account holding the remainder of your birthday money.”
My chest tightened.
The account with eight hundred twelve dollars left.
Except the document listed its verified balance as twenty-five thousand.
Dated three months earlier.
Before Mom and Ava withdrew most of it.
I looked at Mom.
She looked sick.
“That’s impossible.”
Grandpa whispered:
“No.”
His finger moved lower.
“There’s another account.”
I followed it.
Savings reserve.
Balance:
$184,600.
Account holder:
Amelia Parker.
I stared.
“I don’t have that account.”
Rebecca’s voice came through the glass.
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“You just don’t know you do.”
Grandpa turned toward her.
“What bank?”
I found the line.
Queen City Federal.
The same bank Ava’s GPS history showed three visits to.
Ava whispered:
“I never went inside.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?” I asked.
“Mason—Beth—Rebecca told me to park there twice.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I told you to meet someone there.”
“No one came.”
“Someone did.”
“Who?”
Rebecca looked past me.
At Mom.
I turned.
Mom backed away.
“Why is she looking at you?”
“I don't know.”
Rebecca’s voice was cold.
“Carol.”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
“Tell Amelia why you went to Queen City Federal.”
“I didn't.”
Rebecca tapped the glass.
“I have the security footage.”
Mom froze.
I stared at her.
“Mom?”
“I can explain.”
Of course.
Always after the evidence.
Never before.
“What account?”
She started crying.
“I didn’t know it was yours.”
“What account?”
“The savings account.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew about a bank account with my name on it?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
Grandpa’s voice cut through hers.
“Carol.”
Mom pressed a hand over her mouth.
Then lowered it.
“Your father opened it.”
Silence.
My father.
Again.
I stared at her.
“Dad?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“How much was in it?”
“I don't know.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“He asked me not to.”
Grandpa turned sharply.
“He asked you not to tell Amelia she had nearly two hundred thousand dollars?”
Mom shook her head.
“It wasn't supposed to become hers yet.”
“When?”
She looked at me.
“Twenty-five.”
I was twenty-four.
My birthday suddenly felt like a countdown.
I looked at Rebecca.
She was watching me carefully.
“Is that why this started now?”
She didn't answer.
I moved closer to the glass.
“Is that why someone targeted Ava?”
Rebecca’s face changed.
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
She looked toward Mason.
Then Grandpa.
Then finally at me.
“The money is not the largest thing your father left you.”
My hands went cold.
Grandpa whispered:
“What did David do?”
That was my father’s name.
Rebecca reached into her coat.
Lillian shouted through the phone:
“Rebecca, stop.”
Rebecca pulled out a folded document and held it against the glass.
At the top was my father’s name.
Below it was a date.
Three days before he died.
And beneath that was one line printed in bold:
TRANSFER OF CONTROLLING INTEREST — EFFECTIVE UPON AMELIA PARKER’S TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY.
Grandpa stared.
“What controlling interest?”
Rebecca looked directly at me.
Then someone behind her stepped onto the porch.
A man.
Older.
Gray-haired.
He stopped beside Rebecca and looked through the glass at my mother.
Mom made a sound I had never heard before.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The man lifted a second folder.
My father’s handwriting was across the front.
May you like
And then he said:
“Carol, you told Amelia I was dead.”
