Maybe Baby Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Why would she do that?” I asked.

  “To destroy the trail back to the trustor, the person who set up the trust.”

  “But I know who that is; it’s my dad, her ex-husband.”

  “Tylar, I’ve had one of our law clerks digging into some of this. Your mom was never married to anyone.”

  “Stop, Trey I cannot listen to any more of this, please!” My voice was cracking, my shoulders shaking. I pulled my knees up tucking them under my chin and burying my face into them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently, pulling me to him. I pushed him away.

  “Trey, I can’t deal with this!”

  “But this is something you can’t simply ignore. It looks like your mother's committed a felony act. Yet Sneed isn’t convinced any criminal activity took place. We need to establish that your signature was forged in order to start the process with the local prosecutor in that county. Timing was a factor in all of this, I’m convinced.”

  “How do we do that?” I asked.

  “We’ll go to Kentucky. You’ll need to confirm the signature as a forgery, and then file a formal complaint with the Prosecutor’s office.”

  “But we don’t even know where she is.”

  “That’s why you need to go to your home and assess the situation there. Talk to neighbors, her friends, anyone who might shed some light.”

  “So you’d go with me?” I asked.

  “I told you I would, Tylar,” he replied. “I have the next couple of days free into early next week. I booked a flight for us tomorrow morning.”

  “But I’m supposed to leave Friday night to fly to Atlanta to spend a few days with Gina,” I whined.

  “Really, Tylar?”

  Trey was right. This needed to take priority. I'd call Gina and let her know. Maybe the trip could be rescheduled. Gina would understand.

  “I’ll call Gina tomorrow morning,” I replied. “I’m sure she can rebook my flight.”

  “Okay, then. Please get some rest. Are you sure you won’t stay with me at the house tonight?”

  “I really don’t feel like changing, packing, and all of that right now. In case you hadn’t noticed, Trey, I’m a little drunk?”

  “I noticed, Tylar,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  “I have some things to tell you Trey, but I don’t want to get into it all tonight, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to sleep on your couch, though, and no argument, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  I got a pillow and a sheet for him and went to my room, cranked my window A/C, and was asleep within minutes.

  CHAPTER 20

  Trey nudged me awake while it was still dark outside. He'd made coffee, poured a glass of orange juice, and toasted a bagel for me. I was hung-over and grumbling. He told me he didn’t want to hear it; it was my own fault. I choked the bagel down and drank my juice, then went to freshen up. While I was in the shower, Trey brought an outfit into the bathroom for me.

  I dressed hurriedly and packed the clothes that he'd laid out for me. This was record time for me to be ready to travel on a moment’s notice. Trey hustled me out, locking my cottage behind us.

  “What time's our flight?” I asked as we walked down the still-dark path past the stables to the manor.

  “Seven-thirty. The limo will be here in 30 minutes. Get a move on it; I’ve still got to pack.”

  Once the limo picked us up, I snuggled up against Trey and fell back to sleep. It seemed like two minutes later we were taking our first-class seats on the commercial flight to Louisville. The flight was relatively short, but we were given top-notch treatment.

  The flight attendants continually gushed over Trey, offering him more coffee, juice, whatever. I was annoyed with their fawning over him but I didn’t want to be obvious so I closed my eyes as if sleeping and ended up draped across him during most of the flight. The flight attendant made sure to come by during our initial descent into Louisville instructing Trey that I needed to be in my assigned seat, with my seat belt fastened during landing.

  “Wake up, Tylar,” he said softly. “We’re getting ready to land in a few minutes. Let’s get you buckled up in your seat.” He buckled my seat belt as I opened my eyes, catching the attention of the flight attendant who'd been flirting with Trey the duration of the flight. I gave her a silent smirk.

  Once landed, we picked up the rental car, a Lexus SUV, and Trey drove us to the Crowne Plaza Hotel near the airport. After we'd settled into our room, I called Gina, letting her know there'd been a change in plans. She said she'd would call the airlines and change my flight. We decided the weekend of my birthday, July 14, would work. Gina was actually more excited about moving my visit so she could plan a celebration at the Sanctuary.

  Our first stop was at the law offices of Findley, Morris & Sneed, L.L.P. In all of the years my mother had worked there, I'd never seen it. It was a two-story red brick building, located several blocks from the courthouse on the outskirts of the downtown area. Trey had evidently called ahead; Mr. Sneed was expecting us.

  Mr. Sneed was a short, rather pudgy man in his mid-50s. His hairline was receding. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. His suit looked like something he'd purchased used 10 years ago. Definitely not your upscale law firm, but certainly the type of firm I could picture my mom working at.

  Trey made the introductions and we took our seats in his small, drab office. Sneed provided copies of the trust disbursement documents that he'd ordered from the bank that held my funds. Trey and I sorted through them, separating them into two piles: one being the documents that had my actual signature authorization, the others that were forged. Three documents were forged; two of the three were for $1,000 each, and had been executed with my forged signature during my freshman year of college. The final withdrawal from the trust was for the entire balance left of $53,454.78. This was processed just a week after I'd arrived at the Sinclair estate. Sneed provided a copy of the fax transmission cover sheet that was on La Vie Belle stationary.

  I was puzzled by my mother's motivation. The house was paid off or so she'd told me. I'd given her my Jeep. Her only bills were utilities, food, clothing, and car insurance. Surely, her salary would've covered those expenses?

  “Mr. Sneed, did my mother give notice when she left her job here?”

  “She did not,” he said to me. “She collected her last paycheck on a Friday and did not show for work the following Tuesday. Martha, our other part-time clerk, got worried. Martha drove out to your house in Radcliffe, which appeared to be empty. When Mr. Sinclair here got in touch with us last week questioning the status of your trust, well, we tried to dig deeper. As you know, any documentation concerning your trust has disappeared or was destroyed. I'm really sorry. I never expected this from your mother.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  He seemed puzzled that I'd doubt that. “She was a good, consistent worker here for years, Ms. Preston. None of the partners saw anything odd or unusual with her behavior. At least not until just over a month ago.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  He seemed uncomfortable discussing it. “She started coming in a little later on her work days; generally she seemed as if she wasn’t feeling well. We don’t know anything for certain, Ms. Preston, but Martha suspected your mother was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” I was doubtful; pregnancy was always her worst fear.

  He nodded and continued. “It was just Martha’s suspicion, though. Martha and Maggie would talk some on the one day a week they worked together. Maggie—your mom, didn’t divulge a lot of details about her personal life. It was years before we even knew she had a daughter. Martha got the impression that your mom had met someone that she was really serious about. I guess Martha just put two and two together, but who knows, she may have come up with five on that one.”

  I was stunned by the possibility. I knew Mom was young enough for more children, but all she'd ever done was complain about me.

&
nbsp; Trey spoke up. “Thanks for your time and for producing these copies for us, Mr. Sneed. We'll be meeting with the prosecutor today to press criminal charges against Mrs. Preston. Let me make it clear that there's nothing indicating your firm actively participated with this activity; however, you know as well as I do that there's an issue of liability for criminal activities conducted under the auspices of the employer, in this case your firm, that may result in a civil suit.”

  “We're a limited liability partnership, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Sneed, however, I'll need to examine how Kentucky regards limited liability partnerships with respect to tortious injury resulting from negligence in the administration of trusts. I'll be back in touch with you if I need more information." Mr. Sneed nodded and tugged at his collar. I thanked him saying good-bye as Trey guided me out of the office.

  “Where to now?” I asked once we stood on the sidewalk.

  “I think we need to gather more information as to where your mother might’ve gone. Obviously she's left the current jurisdiction, but that doesn’t prevent us from making a criminal complaint. It puts an active warrant out for her at least, which will show up in any other state if she gets stopped for a traffic infraction. The more information we can provide the prosecutor’s office, the more attention they’ll give the case.”

  I had no clue as to who could shed any light on her whereabouts. We had no relatives that I was aware of. She wasn’t one to have many friends. The only friend that I recalled was Mona, but I hadn’t seen her since high school.

  I remembered Mona had stopped over at our house one Sunday afternoon long ago. I'd overheard her telling Mom that Laurie was pregnant. She'd wanted Laurie to have an abortion, but she wouldn’t. Mona was upset, saying that she'd wanted better for Laurie than to end up in the same place as her. I remember my mom getting defensive with her on that.

  “What the hell is wrong with where you’re at, Mona?”

  “Oh, come on Maggie. Is this the life you'd choose for your daughter?”

  “Hey, if it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for her!”

  “You can’t mean that, Maggie,” Mona said shocked.

  “I like what I do, Mona. I love the way men look at me, touch me, and want me. I love the money I make for doing something that I love to do, something that I’m really good at. My only problem is that they’re starting to look at Tylar more than me. I don’t want the competition.”

  Mona had a horrified look on her face. I was in the kitchen, but I heard their conversation. Mona noticed me then, and whispered something to my mother.

  “I don’t give a shit what she hears,” Mom replied. “She needs to face the reality of life. It’s ‘use or be used.’ Simple as that.”

  I tuned out the rest of their conversation as I went upstairs to my room. Another memory to be hidden away.

  “Hey, Tylar?” Trey’s voice cut into my thoughts.

  “I’m sorry—what?”

  “I asked if you have your house key.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve got it.”

  “Good, let’s head to Radcliffe.”

  Within 45 minutes Trey had driven us from downtown Louisville to Radcliffe. I directed him to our street, Lincoln Trail, pointing out my house on the block. He pulled the SUV into the driveway. I dug my house key out of my purse.

  I retrieved the mail from an overstuffed mailbox and went inside, Trey following close behind. I put the stack of mail on the kitchen counter. The house was stuffy and empty of all furnishings. It was surreal to see that everything familiar was missing. Every piece of furniture and every appliance were gone. I went room-to-room observing the total emptiness. I checked the bathroom at the end of the hall. There was a roll of toilet paper left hanging on the holder. A box of condoms sat alone on the medicine cabinet shelf.

  Trey hadn’t said a word. What possible reason would she have had to desert her home and take all of my stuff with her? I looked up at Trey, the confusion evident on my face. He pulled me close to him, wrapping his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

  “I can't understand why she'd leave her house, Trey. I mean, if she needed money that badly, she could've sold the house. Why did she take my trust? This house is worth more than twice that I would think.”

  “Maybe it’s not her house, Tylar. We need to check with the county auditor.”

  I nodded. Trey was right. We decided to go to the county offices in Elizabethtown, about 12 miles away. I sorted the mail on the kitchen counter, shoving the envelopes in my purse to open later. Trey locked the door and we drove to Elizabethtown.

  The visit to the county auditor’s office revealed that the house I'd grown up in had never belonged to my mother. It had been purchased in 1991 by a company called T.J. Property, LLC. The taxes were paid current by the same company. The auditor’s office did provide Trey with the address of the LLC. It was a post office box in Jackson, Mississippi.

  On the drive back to Radcliff, Trey asked if I wanted to question any of the neighbors. I told him I didn’t. I was convinced my mother had carefully and meticulously planned her disappearance.

  By late afternoon, we'd met with the Jefferson County prosecutor in Louisville where I signed a criminal complaint against my mother. Sneed had provided us with her social security number. The prosecutor pointed out that we didn’t have much. Trey told them he'd be back in touch with any additional information. There was nothing left to do.

  We returned to the Crowne Plaza. As Trey showered, I sat on one of the two queen-sized beds and sorted through my mom’s mail. Most of it was junk mail, unpaid bills, final request for payment demands, and finally shut-off notices. There was a letter that had arrived for me from Virginia Intermont College. It was postmarked two days ago. I opened it. My fall classes had been dropped due to failure to pay the registration fees on time. Nothing in the stack provided any clues as to where my mom had gone with my money.

  Trey came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his waist, his hair damp and mussed. Watching him, I was momentarily distracted from my depression, and I wished I could pull that towel off of him. He glanced over at me while he sorted through his luggage.

  “Anything interesting?” he asked.

  Busted!

  Trey caught me staring and was calling me out on my lustful thoughts. I hadn’t meant to gawk. I immediately felt the color rise to my cheeks.

  “Tylar—is there anything interesting in your mom’s mail?”

  “Uh, no, not really. I’ve been dropped from the fall schedule thanks to good ‘ole mom.”

  “I’m sorry, Tylar,” he said softly. “We’ll figure something out about your tuition, okay?”

  “There’s nothing to figure out Trey. I can’t afford it until I get my trust money back; if I get it back, I should say.”

  He gave me a look that basically told me that the subject wasn't closed, but it was closed as far as I was concerned. “I’ve got an errand to run,” he explained. “I should be back here in an hour. Get ready; we’ll go to dinner when I get back.”

  "Okay,” I answered. By the time Trey returned, I was dressed and ready. He drove us to a very trendy restaurant called Bistro 301 on Market Street. We were seated in a booth and given menus. The waitress returned for cocktail orders. Trey looked over at me.

  “What would you like, Tylar? Wine?”

  Seriously? He's going to let me have a drink? I glanced quickly at the cocktail menu and ordered something off of the Skinny Girl section called vodka sonic. Trey looked slightly amused. He ordered a bourbon and water. When the waitress returned with our drinks, Trey ordered calamari appetizers. I had decided on salmon, and Trey ordered pan-seared trout for dinner. The waitress did the normal gushing over Trey and finally took leave. I took a long sip of my vodka sonic.

  “You’ve been very quiet today, Tylar,” Trey observed.

  “Well, that’s about to change,” I remarked, smiling and downing my drink.

  Trey frowned. The waitres
s passed. I flagged her down and asked for another. Trey frowned deeper.

  Tough titties!

  I started to giggle. He looked at me uneasily.

  “Look,” I said, “I need just a bit of liquid courage to get me to the point where I can tell you what I said that I'd tell you last night. I had an epiphany.”

  “An epiphany,” he echoed. “I see.”

  Oh that sounds patronizing, Counselor!

  “Was this epiphany after you'd finished most of your wine?”

  “Don’t be flippant with me,” I warned. Trey continued watching me, waiting for the enlightenment. I waved my hand, “If you’re going to be an ass, then just forget it.”

  “I’m sorry, Tylar,” he replied. “Please go on.”

  “Okay,” I started just as the waitress set my next drink down. I took a sip. “While I was watching TV, it came to me: the reason for my nightmares. The reason that you heard what you heard was that I was reliving an event from my past in my dream at the hospital.”

  “I’m listening,” Trey said.

  “My senior year of high school, Daniel was my boyfriend. We’d been seeing each other almost the whole year. He was a star football player; he had a full ride to Purdue in the fall. He was way too good for me, and I knew that.”

  Trey frowned and shook his head when I said that. I ignored him and continued, telling him everything about the night of my senior prom with Daniel. I explained about the earrings and necklace, my getting drunk and passing out and how it was supposed to have been my first time with Daniel. I got to the part about my waking up in the bathroom and going to look for my mom. I started tearing up and stopped.

  Trey reached across the table and took my hand. The waitress delivered our calamari. Trey served me a portion of the appetizer and waited for me to continue.