Chapter 6 - Danielle’s Ultimatum
By Monday morning, the atmosphere inside 4421 River Birch Lane had transformed from a triumphalist romantic retreat into a pressure cooker of mutual loathing.
I knew this because my landscaper, Mateo—who had manicured the grounds of River Birch Lane for six years and whom I paid directly from my personal checking account—called me at nine o'clock while trimming the boxwoods near the patio.
"Señora Margaret," Mateo said in a low whisper over the hum of his shears. "The shouting... it has not stopped since yesterday morning. The young woman with the yellow hair, she is throwing things against the wall inside."
"What kind of things, Mateo?"
"Suitcases, Señora. Glassware. She is screaming that he is a fraud. The water in the house... it is off?"
"No," I replied with a tight smile. "The water is on. But the county water authority did receive a routine request from the property owner to transfer the billing back to my corporate account, which required a temporary eighteen-hour line inspection for backflow certification. It should be restored by noon."
I had not broken the law; I had simply exercised my right as a commercial landlord to conduct mandatory plumbing hazard inspections following the improper alteration of exterior locking fixtures. The air conditioning had also developed an unfortunate "thermostat malfunction" when the smart-home hub—which was registered to my iPad—accidentally reset itself to factory settings, locking the ambient temperature at sixty-two degrees.
Inside the house, Danielle was discovering the true cost of her ambition.
At eleven o'clock, Arthur Pendleton called my office. "Margaret, you’re not going to believe who just walked through my front lobby."
"Danielle Vance?"
"None other," Arthur chuckled. "She brought an attorney. A young personal injury guy from Midlothian who looked like he wanted to crawl under my Persian rug."
"What does she want, Arthur?"
"She wants immunity," Arthur said, his tone turning serious. "She brought a leather shopping bag containing Rachel’s diamond tennis bracelet, three pairs of antique sapphire earrings, and Rachel’s grandmother’s platinum wedding band. Michael gave them to her on Friday night, telling her they were 'family heirlooms' that he had inherited from his maternal grandmother."
A wave of cold revulsion washed over me. "My mother’s wedding band?"
"The very same," Arthur said. "Danielle isn't stupid, Margaret. She’s opportunistic, shallow, and cruel, but she’s not willing to catch a felony grand larceny indictment for a man whose bank accounts were frozen by Clara Sterling at nine o'clock this morning."
"What else did she bring?"
"Copies of text messages," Arthur said, the rustle of papers coming over the line. "Michael instructed her two weeks ago to begin deleting firm accounting logs related to the North Carolina litigation trust accounts. He was using client settlement funds held in escrow to pay the lease on her Audi and to cover the $4,500 monthly payment on his Porsche."
I closed my eyes, feeling a profound, crushing sorrow. A mother spends forty years teaching a boy how to walk, how to speak, how to be an honorable man in a dishonorable world. She pays for his tuition, she sits in the front row at his law school graduation, she watches him swear an oath before the Supreme Court of Virginia to uphold the constitution and the laws of the Commonwealth. And then, in a blind flurry of middle-aged vanity and unbridled greed, he burns it all to the ground for a shiny car and a woman who doesn't even know his middle name.
"What is her deal, Arthur?" I asked, my voice heavy.
"She wants us to sign an agreement stating we will not seek criminal charges for trespass or conversion of personal property. In exchange, she has vacated River Birch Lane as of thirty minutes ago. She packed her bags, called an Uber, and left Michael sitting on the floor of the empty living room with an open bottle of bourbon."
"Did she take Rachel’s clothes?"
"Every item has been returned, dry-cleaned, and delivered to my office in garment bags," Arthur said. "She also handed over a signed affidavit detailing Michael’s attempts to manufacture the fraudulent power of attorney."
"Sign the release, Arthur," I said. "Let the little shark swim away. I don't care about Danielle Vance. She was just the mirror Michael used to look at his own vanity. The man I have business with is sitting on the floor of my house."
"The unlawful detainer hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning at nine-thirty in Henrico General District Court," Arthur reminded me. "Are you sure you want to attend in person, Margaret? You can let Evelyn and me handle it. It’s going to be ugly."
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"I bought that land with money I earned working sixty hours a week while Michael's father was dying in a hospice bed," I said firmly. "I will be sitting in the front row. And Michael will look me in the eye when the judge hands me the writ."
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