Chapter 4 - The Summons
On Thursday morning, the postal courier delivered three certified, signature-required envelopes to the front gates of Pinecrest Manor.
At 11:30 AM, my cell phone rang. The caller ID displayed my father’s direct office line.
I tapped the speaker button.
"Valerie!" Charles’s voice boomed, loud enough to rattle the glass of my kitchen window. "What in God's name is the meaning of this?"
"Good morning, Charles," I said calmly.
"Don't give me that corporate secretary tone! Chloe just received a formal criminal summons from the county clerk! Third-degree intentional injury to a minor and obstruction of justice! And Brenda and I were served with subpoenas for an evidentiary hearing next Wednesday!"
"The county prosecutor reviewed the case file, Dad. The charges were filed based on the police investigation and the attending physician’s medical report."
"You did this!" he roared. "You filed the complaint!"
"The hospital is mandated by state law to file a suspected child abuse report whenever an injury does not match the stated mechanism of injury," I explained, keeping my voice as flat and even as a legal transcript. "The state of Ohio is the complainant, not me."
"You could have stopped it! You could have signed an affidavit saying it was a misunderstanding!"
"I don't commit perjury, Dad. Not for you, not for Brenda, and certainly not for Chloe."
"Listen to me, you ungrateful little girl," Charles snarled, his voice dropping into a vicious, calculated rasp. "I have built a reputation in this city that you cannot even fathom. I have breakfast with the municipal judges! I play golf with the county commissioners! If you think some two-bit municipal prosecutor is going to drag my granddaughter into a courtroom, you are sorely mistaken."
"Is that a threat, Dad?"
"It’s a fact! I’m going to walk into that courthouse on Wednesday morning, I'm going to have a five-minute conversation with Judge Holbrook in his private chambers, and this entire ridiculous charade will be dismissed with prejudice. And when it is, Valerie, you will be formally removed from the family trust. You will never see another dime of my estate. Do you understand me?"
I leaned back against my counter, looking out at the sun shining on my small, neat garden.
"I have supported myself since I was eighteen years old, Dad. I paid my own way through undergraduate school. I paid off my own student loans. You have never given me a single dollar that didn't come with a leash attached. Keep your trust fund."
"You'll regret this!"
"I'll see you in court on Wednesday, Dad. Bring your lawyer. You're going to need him."
I hung up before he could reply.
Two hours later, my sister Brenda arrived at my doorstep. She didn't ring the bell; she pounded on the wood with the heel of her designer shoe.
When I opened the door, she pushed her way into the foyer, her eyes red-rimmed, her face twisted in rage.
"You monster!" she spat, pointing a trembling finger in my face. "You're trying to ruin Chloe's life! She’s twenty-four! She has an internship lined up! If this gets out, her social life is over!"
"Brenda, look into the living room," I said, pointing toward the couch.
Toby was sitting up, trying to color a fresh piece of paper with his left hand, his right arm bound tightly in blue fiberglass, awkwardly resting on a pillow.
"Look at him," I insisted. "Did you ask how he was sleeping? Did you ask if he needed help with his homework? Did you ask how much pain he was in when the bone snapped?"
Brenda didn't even turn her head. She kept her eyes locked on me, full of venom.
"He's fine! He has a little cast! Kids get casts all the time! You’re just using this to get back at me because Dad bought me that BMW in college and you had to drive that rusted Honda! You’ve always hated me!"
I looked at my sister, and for the first time in my life, I didn't feel hurt. I didn't feel the sting of the second-class status she had held over my head for decades.
I only felt profound, hollow pity.
"Get out of my house, Brenda."
"I’m not leaving until you drop the charges!"
"I don't have the legal authority to drop charges filed by the district attorney," I said, stepping toward the door and opening it wide. "And if you step one foot toward my son, I will have the county sheriff arrest you on my front lawn for witness tampering."
May you like
Brenda scoffed, tossing her hair. "You think you're so important because you work at the courthouse? You’re a glorified secretary, Valerie! Dad’s lawyers are going to eat you alive on Wednesday!"
"We'll see," I said softly, and closed the door between us.
