“I suspected she was leaning too heavily on you, but I did not know it had reached this level,” he admitted, opening the paper bag to reveal a thick file folder and a small spiral notebook filled with neat handwriting.
Inside the folder were property tax statements, copies of refinancing documents, and records that listed the address of my mother’s house with his name still printed on the deed. “The house your mother lives in is still legally mine,” he said quietly, tapping the document with a finger that trembled only slightly.
I blinked in disbelief because my mother had always insisted that the mortgage was entirely her responsibility. “She told me she refinanced and put everything in her name after Dad died,” I said, struggling to reconcile the contradiction.
“She refinanced once, but I had to sign because the title remained under my ownership,” my grandfather explained. “She begged me not to sell the house after your father passed, and I agreed on the condition that she would stop leaning on you girls for money.”
My throat tightened as understanding formed. “So she let me believe she had no choice while I sent her those payments,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face.