Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Wore My Face
"Rebecca was there when your signature was notarized," Tara said.
"Then she knows who signed it."
"Possibly. But there's someone else we need to speak with first."
She pointed to the notarial acknowledgment.
Ellen Price.
I recognized the name immediately.
Ellen had been a friend of my mother's for almost twenty years.
She'd helped organize church fundraisers, baked cakes for neighborhood events, and sent sympathy cards whenever somebody in our extended family passed away.
I remembered her as a pleasant woman who always smelled of lavender perfume.
Now her official seal was attached to a document that could destroy my financial future.
Tara arranged a meeting after notifying the lender that we were disputing the signatures.
Ellen agreed to speak voluntarily at Tara's office.
She arrived wearing a gray coat and carrying an old leather appointment planner.
Her hands trembled as she sat down.
"I never thought this would come back," she said.
The statement made my skin prickle.
"Come back?" I repeated.
Ellen looked at Tara.
"I need to be careful about what I say."
Tara's expression remained professional.
"You should understand that you may want independent legal advice. We're asking about the circumstances of a document identifying my client as a signer."
Ellen nodded.
Then she looked at me.
"Claire, I am sorry."
I didn't respond.
An apology before an explanation was rarely a good sign.
Ellen opened the planner to a page marked July, six years earlier.
"I remembered the appointment because it was during the pandemic. We had shortened office hours, and everyone was wearing masks."
She pointed to a handwritten entry.
Bennett family — 10:30. Linda, Robert, Rebecca.
I stared at the names.
"Where am I?"
Ellen's eyes filled with shame.
"That is the problem."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she explained.
My parents had arrived at the closing office with Rebecca.
They'd brought a folder of identification documents and said that I was running late.
According to Ellen, my mother became increasingly impatient.
She insisted the lender needed everything completed that morning.
"Linda told me you'd agreed to help the family," Ellen said.
"And you believed her?"
"I knew your parents. I thought they were honest people."
I leaned forward.
"Did you actually see me?"
Ellen swallowed.
"A woman was there. Your mother introduced her as Claire."
"Rebecca?"
She looked down.
"She was wearing a mask and had her hair pulled back. I didn't know your daughter-in-law very well then. Linda handed me an identification card, and the photograph seemed close enough."
I felt a wave of disbelief.
"You notarized a $280,000 guaranty because somebody looked close enough?"
Ellen's face turned red.
"I should have checked more carefully."
"Did you watch her sign?"
Ellen hesitated.
"Yes."
"Then tell me who it was."
She rubbed her palms together.
"I can't say with certainty after all these years. I remember your mother answering most of the questions. I remember a dark-haired woman in a cream coat."
Rebecca had dark brown hair.
In family photographs from that summer, she wore a cream trench coat almost constantly.
I remembered joking that she'd bought it specifically to look expensive.
My stomach twisted.
"Was there anything distinctive about her?"
Ellen closed her eyes.
"She had a small scar near her right eyebrow."
I stopped breathing.
Rebecca had a crescent-shaped scar beside her eyebrow.
She'd gotten it when she fell from a bicycle as a teenager.
I'd seen it dozens of times.
I turned toward Tara.
"That was Rebecca."
Ellen lowered her head.
"Afterward, I questioned Linda about the names in my appointment book."
"What did she say?"
"That Rebecca had originally been scheduled to witness the closing but that the arrangements changed."
"And you accepted that?"
Ellen's voice became barely audible.
"I wanted to."
Those three words angered me more than her excuses.
She had wanted to believe my mother because believing her was convenient.
Just as I had wanted to believe my parents for six years.
Just as everyone had wanted to believe Christmas was a happy family gathering while Lily sat empty-handed beneath the tree.
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, people hurried along the sidewalk with shopping bags and coffee cups.
Normal people having normal afternoons.
I wondered how many carried secrets they didn't know existed.
Behind me, Tara asked Ellen to preserve her planner and any related correspondence.
Ellen agreed.
She admitted that Linda had called her after Christmas, asking whether old notarial records could be destroyed once a business loan had been renewed.
I turned around.
"When did she call?"
"Yesterday morning."
The day I discovered the forgery.
My mother had already started checking which evidence still existed.
Ellen pressed a tissue against her eyes.
"I told Linda I couldn't destroy anything."
"What did she say?"
"She told me family matters should stay inside the family."
I nearly laughed.
My mother had spent decades making that statement sound virtuous.
Family matters should stay inside the family.
It meant nobody could question Jason's behavior.
Nobody could mention how much money my parents borrowed.
Nobody could ask why I was expected to help while receiving so little consideration in return.
It meant secrets were sacred.
And the people hurt by those secrets were expected to remain silent.
After Ellen left, Tara sat beside me.
"Her account is important," she said. "But her memory alone isn't proof. We need records, and we need Rebecca's version."
"I want to speak to her."
"Not as a confrontation. You don't know whether she'll cooperate."
That evening, I waited until Lily was with Aaron for her scheduled overnight visit.
Then I sent Rebecca one message.
I know you were at the closing. I want the truth.
She read it almost immediately.
For seventeen minutes, nothing happened.
Then three dots appeared.
Rebecca: Please don't tell Jason I answered.
I stared at the screen.
Me: Did you sign my name?
Another pause.
Then:
Rebecca: I didn't know how much it would hurt you.
My hands shook.
I called her.
She answered on the second ring.
"Claire, listen to me."
"Did you pretend to be me?"
I heard her breathing.
Then she whispered:
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
Rebecca began crying quietly.
"Because your mother said if I didn't do it, Jason would lose everything. She said you already knew and that this was just paperwork."
I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
"Then why didn't you ask me?"
She said nothing.
That silence told me more than any explanation could.
Finally, she spoke again.
"Claire, there's something else you need to know."
"What?"
May you like
Her voice dropped to a frightened whisper.
"The money wasn't borrowed to save your parents' house. Almost all of it went straight to Jason."
