Chapter 16. What Belongs to Me #2
At home in the rental, I received a letter through Rachel from Grant. It was not personal correspondence. Owen had asked whether I would identify the conduct required before any future request to resume therapy or direct contact. Rachel advised that I did not have to answer.
I answered because silence would leave him free to invent a test I had not chosen.
My list contained seven items.
Correct the original court record completely, including every witness contact and characterization of my health.
Execute the interim financial and parenting agreements without a reconciliation condition.
Continue direct parenting duties without using staff to create the appearance of performance.
Disclose Northline and the authorization failure to the Vale board, lenders, and community process wherever legally required.
Recuse from every Harbor House transaction and accept an independent result, including one that reduces company value.
Continue individual treatment focused on control under uncertainty.
Do not treat completion of any item as a claim on my time, body, home, or decision.
I added a final paragraph.
These are repairs required because of your conduct. They are not a path back to me. I am not promising that trust will return or that the dissolution will stop. Do the work because it is necessary whether I remain your wife or become your former wife.
Rachel reviewed the wording and sent it through Owen. Grant's response contained two words.
I UNDERSTAND.
I saved the correspondence with the dissolution record and closed my laptop.
* * *
On Thursday morning, the board's governance committee interviewed Harbor House staff in the upstairs conference room.
I worked in the costume-storage office because the committee had asked me not to attend.
The temporary desk was a folding table between two racks of donated coats.
It gave me enough space for a laptop and nowhere to pretend I remained at the center of the process.
Six staff members met with the committee individually. Nobody reported to me afterward. At ten thirty, Priya entered carrying an unsigned job description.
“They want my written response by tomorrow,” she said.
“Do you want me to read it?”
“One section. Historical responsibilities.”
She placed the pages in front of me and pointed to a paragraph stating that the executive director held authority over programs, staffing, budget execution, facilities, and emergency continuity.
Fundraising strategy and major partnerships would be shared with the founder during a twelve-month transition, but donor commitments required Priya's operational certification before submission.
“That last part is new,” I said.
“It should not be. You have promised programs before asking whether we could staff them.”
“Twice.”
“Five times. I made a list.”
She showed me the list. Three examples were minor, one had required weekend staffing, and one had forced her to cancel a planned training day. I remembered each promise as a fundraising success.
“Keep the certification,” I said.
“The founder role also has no unilateral authority over communications.”
“Good.”
“You are taking this suspiciously well.”
“I am in a room with fourteen fake fur coats. My dignity has adjusted.”
Priya inspected a purple coat with silver buttons. “You approved this production.”
“The director said it represented excess.”
“It succeeded.”
She took the job description back. Before leaving, she said, “Staff do not want you gone. Several are afraid the board is removing you because of the Vale conflict.”
“What did you say?”
“That the board is evaluating a structure you proposed and that no final vote has occurred. I did not promise your job.”
“That was the right answer.”
“I know.”
After she left, I drafted a staff note and sent it to Marian for approval instead of distributing it myself.
It explained that programs, pay, and reporting lines remained unchanged during consultation.
It did not describe the transition as my sacrifice or Priya's reward.
At noon, Marian released it under her own name.
My landlord called while I ate lunch at the folding table. The three-month lease on the Lincoln Park apartment ended in early December. Another tenant wanted a January start, and the owner needed to know whether I planned to extend.
The interim financial agreement was not signed. I could cover another three months from my salary and inheritance account, but six months would reduce the reserve Rachel wanted me to keep for experts and moving costs.
I asked for a written six-month extension option with the right to end after three months on thirty days' notice. The landlord said the owner would consider it at a slightly higher rate and send terms that afternoon.
I did not call Grant. I forwarded the proposed extension to Rachel and asked whether signing it affected our housing request.
“It supports the fact that you need independent housing,” she said. “Do not pay six months in advance. If the owner accepts monthly payment and the termination right, you can sign from your account and seek the agreed housing contribution when the stipulation is entered.”
“What if Grant objects?”
“Then Owen can write the objection and explain why your housing should depend on romantic contact after his client agreed it would not.”
The owner returned a revised addendum at three. Monthly payment, a modest increase, and early termination after the third month with thirty days' notice. Rachel approved the form. I signed electronically and paid only the next required deposit from my own account.