Page 5 of Can't Take Moore
During my three-hour drive, there had barely been any traffic, which put me ahead of schedule. Now I had a delicious cup of Earl Grey tea to perk me up, and since there wasn’t anyone around to watch my calorie count, I treated myself to a blueberry muffin.
As I made my way back to my SUV, an older gentleman called out, “Good morning, young lady.”
Glancing over my shoulder to where he was sitting on a bench in front of the shop I had just left, I smiled wide. “Thanks. I hope you have a great day.”
Small towns must be a lot friendlier because strangers never said hello to me in Chicago. It would take some adjustment to get used to the change of pace, but that’s what made Mooreville the perfect choice. The last place my mom would think to look for me was in a small town in Indiana since I was a big city girl.
She’d raised me in the suburbs of Chicago and moved us downtown as soon as she could afford a nice place on the Gold Coast. One she paid for using money I had earned, without giving me much of a say in the purchase.
Although, I didn’t complain much since the three-bedroom condo she picked had a lot going for it. It had great views of Lake Michigan and Navy Pier, valet parking, someone manning the door to the building around the clock, and access to a fully equipped workout room and rooftop pool. I loved the open floor plan, and there was more than enough room so I didn’t feel as though I was living right on top of my mom and younger sister.
The location was great, too. The condo was only a twenty-minute drive from the rink where I did most of my speed skating training. And Chicago was less than two hours from the Pettit National Ice Center, where so many Olympic speed skaters had trained. Including me at times.
As far as the world was concerned, I had everything going for me. The carefully curated photos of my home plastered all over social media made it seem like I had the perfect life. What nobody saw was how my mom claimed the master suite for herself—even though my name was on the deed. Or that I moved into the smallest room after Nadia complained about being stuck in it. And that I had almost no say in just about anything except for my training regimen.
My family lived off my money, and they would do just about anything to keep it rolling in. My mom steamrolled until she got whatever she wanted from me, and Nadia had taken her cues from her, bulldozing right over me when she wasn’t getting her way. I’d let it happen for years, but not anymore. I was done putting their needs above mine. I just wasn’t ready to deal with their drama over the steps I’d taken to regain control over my life.
My mom wouldn’t understand why I suddenly wanted to live in such a small town—at least while I tried to figure out the existential crisis that I found myself smack dab in the middle of. She was also going to blow a gasket when she discovered that I’d retracted the durable power of attorney she had talked me into granting her when I first started making decent money on social media a few years ago. Since her name didn’t appear on any of my accounts and the bank had been notified of the retraction, it wouldn’t be long before she found out that she no longer had access to my money. With how frequently she transferred funds over to her account, probably by the end of the week at most. It would’ve been sooner, except I timed my departure so that she just paid all of the major bills last week.
Although, she might look earlier than I expected because Nadia would definitely notice that I had temporarily disabled my social media accounts way before then. And then when she tried to reinstate them, she would realize that I had locked her out of the accounts. My sister would lose her mind over not having access to the profiles she considered to be more hers than mine. It was my face all over them, but Nadia was the one who did almost all of the posting and commenting. Yet another example of how my mom exerted control over my life.
Before I’d gone into Leaves & Pages, I changed all of my passwords, my contact information, and set up two-factor authorization to send codes to the prepaid cell phone I’d bought at a convenience store an hour earlier. My plan was to call the doorman of our building to ask him to deliver the notes I’d written my mom and Nadia when the calls and texts started coming in from them. Then I would turn off my old phone for a few weeks, just like I’d explained I was going to do.
I knew I had made the right choice, but my hands were clammy as I pulled into the long driveway leading to my new home. After I parked in front of the two-story brick house, I grabbed my cell phone from the passenger seat. Glancing down at the screen, I pulled up the text thread with the only person I knew in Mooreville—Dean Moore, my real estate broker.
I smiled as I scrolled up to the conversation that had soothed my last-minute doubts about my plan when it was my last chance to back out of the deal.
Dean:Did you get the packet from the title company?
Me:I did. Everything is signed and notarized. I’m sending it back overnight mail, so you’ll have it tomorrow.
Dean:Are you sure you want to move to Mooreville? This is your last chance to back out of the deal.
Me:I’m positive.
Dean:You’re putting a lot of trust in a guy you’ve never met before.
Me:Are you trying to talk me out of this?
Dean:No, just want to make sure you’ve considered the risk you’re taking buying a house you’ve never seen from a guy you’ve never met.
Me:You’re sweet to worry.
Dean:I am NOT sweet.
Me:But I’m not just blindly trusting you. I have reports from the house inspector and title company, too.
Dean:Both of whom I recommended to you. For all you know, they’re in on the con.
Me:I’m pretty sure trying to talk me out of the sale would get you kicked out of the con artist guild.
Dean:We’re not organized enough for a guild.
Me:Are you trying to tell me that Mooreville is a hotbed of criminal activity? If so, you’re all doing a great job of keeping it quiet.
Dean:I guess you’ll find out when you move in.
Although he was a business acquaintance instead of a friend, I decided to shoot him a text with my new number. So I scrolled back down to the bottom again.
