Chapter 3: The Signature
I stared at the line Sloan had circled.
*Cancellation fee: $12,600.*
For a few seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the wind moving through the bare branches outside.
Then I looked back at the contract.
Page three.
Page four.
Page five.
My eyes stopped at the signature block.
There it was.
My name.
*Diane Miller.*
Except I had never signed it.
I ran my thumb over the ink on the printed copy.
The signature looked almost perfect.
Almost.
My real signature leaned slightly to the left. The capital D was narrow, and the final stroke always dragged upward.
This one was too clean.
Too deliberate.
I walked back inside and shut the door.
The Christmas lights were still glowing in the dining room.
They suddenly looked ridiculous.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
And somehow threatening.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
The caterer.
I answered.
“Hello?””
“Mrs. Miller?”” a man's voice said.
“This is Patrick from Northbridge Catering.””
“Yes.””
“I’m calling about your cancellation.””
“I know.””
There was a pause.
“We've processed your request, but we need to clarify something.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What?””
“The event has already been modified twice.””
“What does that mean?””
“Additional services were added to your original contract.””
“I didn't authorize additional services.””
“I'm sorry?””
“I didn't.””
He sounded confused.
“Mrs. Miller, we have written authorization.””
“From me?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“December sixth.””
I looked at the contract in my hand.
“That’s impossible.””
“I’m looking at the record right now.””
“What email address was the authorization sent from?””
He hesitated.
“Yours.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“Mine?””
“Yes.””
“Read it to me.””
“Diane dot Miller at—”
He read my exact email address.
I closed my eyes.
“I didn't send that.””
Patrick was silent.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Well, somebody did.””
I walked to the kitchen table.
“Tell me what was added.””
He shuffled papers.
“A champagne service package. Premium tableware. A late-night dessert station. Additional waitstaff.””
“How much?””
“Four thousand eight hundred and sixty dollars in upgrades.””
I stared at the contract.
“So the original bill wasn't eighteen thousand?””
“No, ma’am.””
“What is the total now?””
Another pause.
“Twenty-one thousand three hundred and forty dollars.””
My chest tightened.
I sat down.
“Patrick, send me every document you have.””
“I can do that.””
“And every email.””
“Yes.””
“Every authorization.””
“I'll send everything.””
“And Patrick?””
“Yes?””
“Don't process anything else.””
“I understand.””
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
I opened my email.
There was nothing in my sent folder.
Nothing in my deleted folder.
Nothing in the archive.
I checked the spam folder.
Nothing.
I searched the caterer's name.
Then the date.
Then "Christmas.""
Several old emails appeared.
One from Sloan.
One from Trevor.
Three from me.
At least, they looked like they came from me.
I opened the newest one.
*Subject: Christmas Menu Revision*
The message was only six words.
*Let's upgrade everything. Diane*
I stared at the screen.
The font looked normal.
The spacing looked normal.
The email address looked exactly like mine.
But I had never written it.
I scrolled down.
There was an attachment.
*Miller_Christmas_Final.pdf*
I opened it.
The PDF showed the same fake signature.
But this time, there was something else.
A line at the bottom.
*Approved via electronic authorization.*
My stomach turned.
I immediately called my bank.
The representative answered after a few minutes.
“I need to report unauthorized activity.””
“Certainly. What kind?””
“Electronic authorizations using my identity.””
She asked for details.
I gave them.
Then she asked the question I had been dreading.
“Do you have reason to believe someone close to you accessed your accounts?””
I looked toward the front window.
Sloan's Mercedes was gone.
“Yes,” I said.
There was another pause.
“Do you know who?””
I swallowed.
“Yes.””
When I hung up, I called Trevor.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Mom?””
“Where are you?””
“At home.””
“Is Sloan with you?””
“Yes.””
“Put me on speaker.””
Silence.
Then I heard Sloan's voice.
“Why?””
“Because I want to ask both of you something.””
Trevor sighed.
“Okay.””
I took a breath.
“Who signed the catering contract?””
Sloan answered immediately.
“You did.””
“No, I didn't.””
“Yes, you did.””
“I have the email.””
“So do we.””
“Then you should know I didn't send it.””
“That makes no sense.””
“It makes perfect sense if somebody sent it pretending to be me.””
Trevor interrupted.
“Mom, are you accusing us?””
“I’m asking a question.””
“Sounds like an accusation.””
“I want to know who had access to my email.””
Neither spoke.
Then I said, “Who logged into my account from Trevor's computer last month?””
Silence.
Real silence this time.
I heard Sloan inhale.
“How would you know that?”” she asked.
I felt cold.
“How would I know?””
“Yes.””
“You just admitted it.””
“I didn't admit anything.””
“You asked how I knew.””
“That doesn't mean—”
“Trevor.””
He said nothing.
I raised my voice.
“Did you log into my email?””
“No.””
“Sloan?””
“No.””
“Did either of you ever have access to my password?””
“No.””
I looked at the laptop sitting on my counter.
The same laptop I used every day.
The same one I had never taken out of my house.
“Then explain the authorization.””
“We can't,” Sloan said.
“Exactly.””
Trevor finally spoke.
“Mom, maybe your account was hacked.””
“Maybe.””
“That happens.””
“Maybe.””
“You're making this into something bigger than it is.””
“No, Trevor. Somebody used my identity to authorize twenty-one thousand dollars in charges.””
“We weren't trying to steal from you.””
“Then why did Sloan send me a reimbursement demand?””
“We were trying to settle expenses.””
“With a fake signature?””
“We didn't forge anything.””
“Then who did?””
Silence.
I waited.
Nothing.
“That's what I thought.””
I ended the call.
Ten minutes later, there was another knock at the door.
I already knew who it would be.
Trevor.
This time, he was alone.
I opened the door.
He looked exhausted.
“Can I come in?””
“No.””
“Mom.””
“What?””
“I swear to you, I didn't forge your signature.””
“I believe you.””
His face softened with relief.
“Thank you.””
“I didn't say I believe Sloan.””
The relief vanished.
He looked away.
“She's not like that.””
“People are exactly who their actions say they are.””
“You don't know everything.””
“Then tell me.””
He stayed on the porch.
“She was trying to make the holiday special.””
“For whom?””
“For everyone.””
“Then why wasn't I included?””
“You were.””
“Sloan told me I wasn't.””
“She was angry.””
“About what?””
He hesitated.
“That you canceled the party.””
I almost smiled.
“She wasn't angry after I canceled it.””
Trevor frowned.
“What do you mean?””
“Sloan knew exactly what the cancellation fee was.””
He stared at me.
“Mom…”
“She handed me the contract.””
His expression changed.
“You saw it?””
“Yes.””
“What did she say?””
“That I hadn't canceled the contract.””
He looked genuinely confused.
“She said the contract had a twelve-thousand-dollar cancellation fee.””
Trevor shook his head.
“That doesn't sound right.””
“Why?””
“Because Sloan told me the cancellation fee was only two thousand.””
The porch went quiet.
I slowly looked at him.
“What?””
“She said the deposit was nonrefundable. Around two thousand.””
“Then where did twelve thousand come from?””
He had no answer.
I opened the door wider.
“Come inside.””
He stepped through.
I placed the contract in front of him.
“Read page three.””
He read it.
His face tightened.
“That's not the contract I saw.””
“What did yours look like?””
“It had a different total.””
“Who showed it to you?””
“Sloan.””
“When?””
“Last week.””
“Where?””
“At home.””
“Was it signed?””
“Yes.””
“By whom?””
He stared at the signature.
“You.””
My heart pounded.
I pointed to the page.
“Trevor, look closely.””
He bent down.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he whispered, “That's not your signature.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I thought it was.””
“I know.””
“But…”
He picked up the page.
“This is my wife's handwriting.””
I froze.
“What?””
“The notes in the margin.””
He pointed to a tiny handwritten mark beside the catering package.
A small star.
Then underneath it, two words.
*Make sure.*
Trevor's face had gone white.
“Sloan writes like this.””
I stared at the note.
“Are you sure?””
“I'd know her handwriting anywhere.””
He flipped the page.
Then another.
His breathing became faster.
“Mom.””
“What?””
“There are two different signatures.””
He turned the document toward me.
“One is yours.””
“I only see one.””
“No.””
He pointed to the electronic authorization.
“This one was copied.””
I looked closer.
My stomach dropped.
The first signature was my real signature.
The second one was the one I had questioned.
Trevor whispered, “She didn't just copy your name.””
He zoomed in on the screen.
“She copied your old signature.””
“My old signature?””
“The one you used before you changed it.””
I stared at him.
“How would she have that?””
He didn't answer.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed instantly.
“What?””
He turned the phone toward me.
It was from Sloan.
*Don't bring that contract to your mother.*
Below it was another message.
*She doesn't know about the second account.*
Trevor looked at me.
“What second account?””
I felt the air leave my lungs.
He stared at the phone.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*And whatever you do, don't let her check the old Christmas account.*
