She started to cry. Margaret reached across the table and took Sarah’s hand. This isn’t your fault. Margaret said, “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. My sister fooled everyone. She fooled me for 40 years. You never stood a chance. Sarah wiped her eyes. What are you going to do? Are you going to? I mean, legally, if this house is yours, Margaret looked around the kitchen, at the refrigerator covered in children’s drawings, at the family photos on the wall, at the evidence of 16 years of life and love and memories.
I don’t know, she said. Honestly, I don’t know anything right now. I just got out of prison this morning. I don’t have a lawyer. I don’t have money. I don’t even have a place to sleep tonight. Sarah’s expression shifted. Something hardened in her eyes. Not against Margaret, but against the situation, against the injustice of it all. “You’ll stay here tonight,” Sarah said firmly. “We have a guest room, and tomorrow, we’re going to figure this out together. I can’t ask you to.
You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Sarah squeezed Margaret’s hand. What your sister did to you is monstrous, and I don’t care what it takes or how long it takes. We’re going to make this right.” Sarah’s husband came home 2 hours later. His name was David, and he was an accountant. Quiet, methodical, the kind of man who looked at problems, like puzzles to be solved. When Sarah explained the situation, David didn’t say anything for a long time. He just sat there processing, his expression growing darker with every detail.
