Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes.
“Are you really going to sic the bloodhounds on your competitor Mom? Is that what a good person does?”
Dinah merely shrugs and spits out another bite of cupcake.
“I just want this community to be safe, sweetheart. That’s all I’m saying.”
I roll my eyes again. My mom is so over-the-top sometimes, and it can be absolutely exhausting. With another sigh, I grab my purse and head for the door.
“Okay Dinah, I’ve got work tomorrow so enjoy the cupcakes and have a wonderful Sunday night okay? I’ll see you next week.”
My mom is turned towards the sink, but she swivels to smile and wave as I leave. But then a puzzled expression crosses her face.
“Oh, and by the way Kenneth stopped by the other day,” she mentions. “You remember Kenneth Carlton, don’t you?”
In fact, I do know Kenneth because we went to high school together. He was awful. He was puffy, red, overweight, and sweated like it was a hundred degrees outside even when the temperature was freezing. Not only that, but Kenneth was mean. His dad is some important real estate developer, so he felt he could lord it over us because of his money and so-called connections.
“Yes, I remember Kenneth. Why would he come by?” I ask in a confused tone. “You mean, he actually knocked on your door? Did something happen?”
Mom shrugs and then pulls open a kitchen drawer before rifling around the mess inside.
“Well, it turns out that Kenneth’s dad bought this apartment complex a while ago, and so they wanted to notify us of the change in management,” she says, her voice absent-minded as she digs around. “Ah ha! Here it is. He gave me this too.”
Dinah hands me a crumpled piece of paper that has some red lettering on it. My heart pounding, I unfold the letter to see what it is. My eyes grow wide as the air evaporates from my lungs.
“Mom, they want you gone,” I say in a low, trembling voice. “Did you even read this? This is a notice from Carlton Realty saying that you need to vacate this apartment in thirty days.”
My mom looks puzzled.
“But why? I always pay my rent on time. Why would they want me to leave?”
I stare at her.
“Are you sure you’ve been paying your rent on time? I know that when I lived here you were always late. And I mean always.”
Dinah scoffs.
“You’re such a worrywart sometimes, Katie. Of course I’ve been paying my rent on time. Back when you were younger, I was a little disorganized between divorcing your dad and starting my own business. But I swear, I haven’t been late even once in the past year.”
I put my hands on my hips.
“Show me your checkbook register then,” I demand.
My mom shakes her head, clucking.
“Sweetheart, that isn’t going to prove anything because I don’t record out-going checks nor do I ever balance my checkbook. You’re not going to see proof of rent payments there.”
I stare at her, my mind whirling.
“Then I’m going to have to check a different way,” I say. Moving as fast as lightning, I swipe her phone from her purse and begin scrolling through her apps.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?” my mom shrieks. “Haven’t you ever heard of something called privacy? You Millennials have no sense of basic decency!”
But I avoid my mom’s clawing arms and manage to find her bank’s payment app. I tap it open, and fortunately, the log in and passwords are pre-filled, so I’m able to get into her dashboard with no problem. Quickly, I select “Recent Transactions in the Past 90 Days” and hold my breath as the app whirs. Of course, when the results come back, disappointment sinks into my chest and my shoulders slump.
“Mom, you have nothing here except some payments to ShopRite and Taylor Drugs. Oh, and there’s this purchase you made at Nordstrom for two hundred dollars, and some random charges from Jamba Juice, Exxon and Lube-O-Matic.”
My mom nods with a smile.
“Yes, I had to take my Camry in for its one hundred thousand mile check-up,” she says cheerily. “Aren’t you proud of me? I actually remembered this time. I remember how angry you were when I missed my seventy-five thousand mile checkup and my car broke down on the freeway.”
I stare at her.
“Dinah, you’re missing the point. I’m not seeing any debits in your account for rent. Do you have another bank account? How did you make your rent payments each month? Did you pay cash?”
My mom looks confused.
“Of course I didn’t pay cash. I swear I wrote Carlton Realty a check each month and mailed it, so I’m not sure why you’re not seeing those transactions in my log. It must be a problem with the bank,” she says airily. Then she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know I heard Abacus Savings Bank is being investigated by regulators,” she confides. “Word is that there’s some real mismanagement going on there.”