Summer's Crucible- Chapter Eight: I'm Surprised That You're Surprised

Summer spent the first several weeks after surgery learning how to be patient with herself.

It was not a talent she possessed naturally.

Her surgeon had warned her that recovery would take time, and although the procedure had relieved pressure on the affected nerve, there was no guarantee that every symptom would disappear. The weakness in her right foot had improved, but she still experienced intermittent numbness and an unpleasant burning sensation along the soles of her feet.

Her back remained stiff and sore, particularly when she spent too much time sitting or standing.

Physical therapy became a regular part of her routine.

So did the frustrating business of arranging transportation, managing prescriptions, and calculating how much of her savings she could afford to spend while she was unable to work.

At least her health insurance had covered most of the surgery.

Summer had anticipated paying a substantial portion of the remaining costs through her deductible and coinsurance. Even after the insurer's negotiated rates and payments were applied, the balance was large enough to make her uncomfortable.

She contacted the hospital's billing department to arrange monthly installments.

It should have been a simple telephone call.

Instead, it became the beginning of another disaster.

The billing representative was pleasant enough at first.

She verified Summer's information, reviewed the outstanding balance, and explained the payment arrangements available through the hospital's financing partner.

Summer selected a monthly amount she believed she could manage.

Then the woman went quiet.

“That's strange,” she said.

Summer looked up from the paperwork spread across her kitchen table.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm getting a notice that the financing application can't be processed because there's a security alert associated with your credit file.”

Summer frowned.

“A security alert?”

“Yes. It looks like there may be a freeze or another restriction on your credit report. You would need to contact the credit bureau or the financing company before we could proceed with this particular option.”

Summer was puzzled.

“I haven't applied for any new credit.”

The woman hesitated.

“I can't see the details of your credit history from here, ma'am. But if you didn't place the restriction yourself, I would recommend checking your reports.”

Summer thanked her and ended the call.

For several minutes, she sat staring at her phone.

She had maintained the same primary credit card for years, paid her bills carefully, and avoided borrowing whenever possible.

The idea that something was wrong with her credit made no sense.

She contacted her bank.

The representative confirmed that a security review had recently been triggered by suspicious activity associated with her personal information.

Summer was advised to obtain her credit reports and contact the lenders involved.

By the end of the afternoon, she understood why.

Someone had been opening accounts in her name.

The first unfamiliar account was a credit card.

Then came another.

Several high-interest personal loans had also been issued using Summer's identifying information.

Some were through online lenders she had never heard of.

Others were associated with financing companies whose interest rates made Summer wonder how anyone could afford to borrow from them voluntarily.

The applications had been submitted over several months.

At least one had been made while Summer was hospitalized for surgery.

She stared at the dates.

She had been under anesthesia when one of the applications was submitted.

Another had been approved while she was recovering in her hospital room.

Summer felt sick.

She spent the next several days contacting lenders, disputing accounts, filing an identity-theft report, and arranging security freezes with the major credit bureaus.

She also discovered unauthorized withdrawals from one of her bank accounts.

Those transactions were especially alarming.

Unlike fraudulent debts, which could be disputed without immediately paying them, the missing money represented savings she had actually possessed.

Her bank opened an investigation, but the process would take time.

Summer filed a police report and provided copies of the credit applications, account statements, and other documents she had gathered.

An investigator eventually contacted her for a more detailed statement.

He asked whether anyone close to her might have had access to her personal information.

Summer immediately thought of Mimsy.

Her adoptive mother knew her birth date, Social Security number, employment history, and much of the information lenders might use to verify an applicant's identity.

Summer had also received mail at Mimsy's house for months.

She explained their recent falling-out.

The investigator listened as she described the argument following Mimsy's cosmetic surgery consultation, the attack in the car, and the destruction of her belongings.

“Do you believe your mother opened these accounts?” he asked.

Summer hesitated.

“I don't know.”

“Do you have a reason to suspect her?”

“She had access to my information. And she's been angry with me since I moved out.”

“Has she ever used your financial information without permission before?”

“Not that I know of.”

The investigator made a note.

Summer wanted to tell him that Mimsy was capable of almost anything when she felt slighted.

But she understood that suspicion wasn't proof.

She gave him the information she had and agreed to cooperate.

Then she waited.

The investigation moved slowly.

Summer learned that correcting identity theft was not a single event but an exhausting series of disputes, verification requests, affidavits, and follow-up calls.

Some lenders removed the fraudulent accounts from her records relatively quickly.

Others demanded additional documentation.

The bank eventually reimbursed the unauthorized withdrawals it determined were covered by its fraud protections, but not before Summer had spent weeks worrying about whether the money was gone for good.

Her credit reports required further corrections.

Even after the immediate financial damage began to be repaired, she remained uneasy.

Someone had known enough about her to impersonate her repeatedly.

And she had a terrible suspicion that the person responsible was the woman who had raised her.

The investigator contacted her occasionally for additional information.

Otherwise, Summer heard little.

She tried to put the matter out of her mind.

There was nothing else she could do.

As if the identity theft weren't enough, Pat's siding and screen-door installation company began to collapse.

The business had struggled for some time against larger competitors that could purchase materials more cheaply and maintain crews across several jobs simultaneously.

Pat had managed to keep operating through a combination of loyal customers, careful budgeting, and his own willingness to work long hours.

Eventually, it wasn't enough.

He decided to step away from day-to-day operations and allow his son, Jon, to take control of what remained.

Summer had met Jon several times.

He was intensely religious, opinionated, and fond of explaining how other people ought to conduct their lives.

Unfortunately, he was less consistent when it came to conducting his own business.

Shortly after taking over, Jon announced that his wife would be handling the office.

Summer's position was eliminated.

She wasn't surprised.

She was disappointed, however.

Pat had treated her well, and she had hoped the company might eventually provide steadier hours once her recovery was complete.

Instead, she found herself unemployed.

Months later, she heard that the business had filed for bankruptcy.

By then, she had already stopped expecting Jon to ask her back.

Summer privately suspected that Pat's son had inherited a difficult situation and made it worse.

She felt sorry for Pat.

He had worked hard to build the company.

Watching it disappear couldn't have been easy.

Still, sympathy did nothing to pay Summer's bills.

Fortunately, Landon kept his word.

His attorney arranged for the jointly held investments to be valued, and Summer had the proposed transfer documents reviewed before signing.

The amount was fair.

Once the transaction was completed, the proceeds were deposited into Summer's account.

She was relieved.

The money gave her enough breathing room to manage her expenses while she recovered and searched for work.

It also reminded her how much of her former life had remained financially entangled with Landon's.

She was glad to have the matter settled.

For once, their separation had produced something uncomplicated.

Landon had needed the investments transferred before his marriage.

Summer had needed the money.

They had both received what they wanted.

She wished more of their relationship had worked that way.

As the months passed, Summer's mobility gradually improved.

She continued physical therapy and follow-up appointments, paying particular attention to the weakness that had previously affected her right foot.

The surgeon was encouraged by her progress, though he cautioned that nerve recovery could continue for many months and might remain incomplete.

Summer regained enough strength and control to begin working toward driving independently again.

After a driving assessment confirmed she could operate a vehicle safely, she resumed driving under the recommendations provided by her medical team.

She still experienced stiffness and occasional discomfort.

There were activities she approached cautiously now.

But the improvement was substantial.

For the first time in a long while, Summer felt she might be able to reclaim some independence.

She began applying for full-time positions.

Eventually, she accepted a job managing a restaurant.

The work was demanding.

The hours were long, the staff turnover was constant, and the physical requirements forced her to be careful about how she organized her day.

She couldn't spend an entire shift lifting heavy supplies or standing in one place without consequences.

Instead, she delegated more effectively, took brief opportunities to sit when necessary, and concentrated on the administrative and supervisory responsibilities she handled best.

She was exhausted at the end of most shifts.

But she was employed.

Her income was predictable.

And she had something productive to occupy her attention.

Summer welcomed the routine.

Her social life had become increasingly quiet.

Heather was living with Morgana, and the two had grown absorbed in their respective businesses.

Morgana's yoga studio was doing well.

Heather's online content business had also expanded, particularly after she began working more closely with Yang on production and editing.

What had started as a relatively modest source of income had developed into a profitable collaboration.

Summer was pleased for them.

Heather had spent much of her adult life struggling to make ends meet, and it was gratifying to see her finally enjoying some financial stability.

But success had also made Heather busy.

Their conversations became less frequent.

Visits were postponed.

Messages sometimes went unanswered for days.

Summer understood.

Heather had a partner, a home, and a business to manage.

She had a life of her own.

Still, there were evenings when Summer returned from work, prepared dinner for herself, and realized she had no one she particularly wanted to call.

She had left Landon.

She had severed ties with Mimsy.

Bailey had disappeared.

And Heather, although still affectionate, was no longer as available as she once had been.

Summer was becoming accustomed to being alone.

She wasn't certain she liked it.

But she had begun to recognize that solitude was preferable to companionship that came at the expense of her dignity.

Nearly three years passed before the criminal case involving Mimsy finally reached trial.

By then, Summer had almost stopped expecting it to happen.

The investigation had uncovered far more than the accounts Summer originally reported.

According to the evidence presented by prosecutors, Mimsy had spent enormous sums pursuing cosmetic procedures after her consultation with Dr. Wentz.

The list was extraordinary.

A facelift.

Breast augmentation and a lift.

A tummy tuck.

Liposuction.

A Brazilian butt lift.

Rhinoplasty.

Repeated injectable treatments and additional procedures performed at several clinics.

Some had been undertaken within months of one another.

Others required lengthy recoveries.

Summer found herself wondering how Mimsy had managed to endure so much surgery while apparently remaining dissatisfied with the results.

The financial records provided an explanation for how she had paid for it.

Mimsy had begun with her retirement savings.

Then she had borrowed against the equity in her previously paid-off house.

When those resources became insufficient, she turned to other sources of credit.

Eventually, she began using Summer's identity.

Investigators linked multiple fraudulent applications to devices, addresses, and records associated with Mimsy.

They also uncovered evidence that she had attempted to obtain financial information from

Heather, although that effort had not resulted in any successful borrowing.

Summer listened to the testimony with growing disbelief.

She had known Mimsy was vain.

She had known she was impulsive.

But she had never imagined that her mother would exhaust her own financial resources and then begin treating her daughters' identities as extensions of her personal credit.

By the time the case reached court, Mimsy's appearance had changed so dramatically that

Summer scarcely recognized her.

The woman who entered the courtroom bore only a passing resemblance to the mother

Summer remembered.

Her face was tighter.

Her nose was narrower.

Her figure had changed considerably.

She wore expensive clothing and moved with the practiced composure of someone who expected to be observed.

Summer stared.

She had spent much of her childhood trying to predict Mimsy's moods by watching her expression.

Now even the familiar landmarks of her face seemed altered.

It was unsettling.

Mimsy glanced toward Summer.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Then Mimsy looked away.

Summer felt an unexpected pang of sadness.

She had imagined that seeing her mother again might awaken anger.

Instead, she felt as though she were looking at a stranger who happened to know everything about her childhood.

When Summer testified, she kept her answers straightforward.

She explained that she had been recovering from spinal surgery when she discovered unfamiliar credit accounts associated with her name.

She described the unauthorized withdrawals, the disputed loans, and the difficulties she had experienced correcting her financial records.

The prosecutor asked whether she had given Mimsy permission to apply for credit on her behalf.

“No.”

“Had you authorized her to withdraw money from your accounts?”

“No.”

“Did you receive any of the funds obtained through those applications?”

“No.”

Summer spoke calmly.

She had rehearsed the facts with the prosecutor before trial.

There was no need to exaggerate.

The records told their own story.

When asked about Mimsy's access to her personal information, Summer explained that she had lived with her adoptive mother for an extended period and had trusted her with

sensitive documents.

That was the part that hurt most.

Mimsy hadn't needed to break into Summer's home or steal her wallet.

She had been entrusted with information that most strangers would never have possessed.

Summer had given her access because she believed family was supposed to be safe.

Mimsy's testimony was considerably more dramatic.

She cried.

She spoke at length about loneliness, aging, and the indignities she believed women of her

generation were expected to endure.

She described the pressure to remain attractive in a world that valued youth.

She spoke of her failed marriages, her sacrifices, and the disappointment of growing older without the companionship she believed she deserved.

At times, she appeared genuinely distraught.

Summer watched quietly.

She had heard variations of the speech before.

The courtroom was simply a larger audience.

Mimsy insisted that she had spent her life caring for others and had received little appreciation in return.

Then she began discussing Summer.

“I took her in when nobody else wanted her,” Mimsy said tearfully.

Summer felt her stomach tighten.

Mimsy continued.

“I raised her. I fed her. I gave her a home. I gave her opportunities she never would've had without me.”

Her attorney attempted to redirect her toward the financial allegations.

But Mimsy seemed determined to explain herself.

“She wouldn't have anything if it weren't for me.”

Summer stared at her.

Mimsy wiped her eyes.

“And after everything I did, she turned her back on me.”

The prosecutor later asked whether Mimsy believed Summer owed her money because she had raised her.

Mimsy hesitated.

Then she answered.

“I believe children have an obligation to the people who sacrificed for them.”

“Even when those children are adults?”

“Especially then.”

“And you believed that entitled you to use her personal information to obtain credit?”

Mimsy looked offended.

“I wasn't stealing from some stranger. She was my daughter.”

The words settled over the courtroom.

Summer felt something inside her go very still.

Until that moment, she had continued to imagine that Mimsy's actions were the product of desperation, poor judgment, or some temporary loss of control.

She had wanted to believe her mother understood that what she had done was wrong.

But Mimsy wasn't describing a mistake.

She was describing an entitlement.

In her mind, raising Summer had created a debt that could never be repaid.

And when Summer failed to provide the gratitude, companionship, and financial support

Mimsy expected, her mother had simply decided to collect.

Summer looked at the woman on the witness stand.

She had spent years trying to be a good daughter.

She had paid bills, run errands, provided companionship, and tolerated insults because she

believed Mimsy deserved consideration for having raised her.

Now she understood that none of it would ever have been enough.

Mimsy didn't want gratitude.

She wanted ownership.

The jury found Mimsy guilty on the charges submitted to it.

Summer listened to the verdict without speaking.

She had imagined she might feel vindicated.

Instead, she felt exhausted.

The evidence had established what Mimsy had done.

The verdict confirmed that the conduct was criminal.

Neither changed the fact that the person responsible was her mother.

Sentencing took place later.

The judge considered the financial losses, the repeated use of Summer's identity, Mimsy's personal circumstances, and the findings presented during the case.

Mimsy's attorney argued for leniency.

The prosecutor emphasized the deliberate nature of the fraud and the abuse of trust involved.

Summer provided a victim-impact statement.

She explained that the theft had occurred while she was recovering from surgery and struggling to maintain employment.

She described the fear of losing her savings, the time spent disputing fraudulent accounts, and the lasting damage to her sense of security.

She did not ask the court to punish Mimsy for being a difficult mother.

She asked the court to recognize the harm caused by the crimes.

The judge imposed a custodial sentence of nineteen months, subject to the applicable correctional rules, along with restitution obligations.

The court also imposed a no-contact condition as permitted under the sentencing arrangements.

Summer listened as the terms were read.

Mimsy began crying again.

When the officers approached to escort her away, she turned toward Summer.

“I can't believe you're letting them do this to me!”

Summer said nothing.

“You're my daughter!”

The words echoed across the courtroom.

Summer looked at her.

For a moment, she considered responding.

She wanted to explain that she hadn't invented the credit applications.

She hadn't taken the money.

She hadn't forced Mimsy to lie to lenders or exhaust her savings on cosmetic surgery.

But she knew an explanation would accomplish nothing.

Mimsy had already decided who was responsible.

It would always be someone else.

Summer remained silent as the officers led her mother away.

Rusty, Cecilia, and Heather had attended the sentencing.

Afterward, they gathered around Summer in the courthouse hallway.

Heather hugged her.

“It's over.”

Summer rested her chin against Heather's shoulder.

“I hope so.”

Cecilia squeezed her hand.

Rusty looked unusually subdued.

He had been married to Mimsy once.

Perhaps he understood better than most how exhausting it could be to live within the orbit of her demands.

“You did the right thing,” he said.

Summer nodded.

She knew he meant well.

Still, the phrase felt inadequate.

There was no satisfaction in watching someone who had raised her go to prison.

There was only the knowledge that Mimsy had been given years of opportunities to behave differently and had refused every one.

Summer was grateful that Heather, Rusty, and Cecilia had come.

They couldn't change what had happened.

But their presence reminded her that not every relationship had to be built around obligation and control.

Later that evening, Summer found herself thinking about Landon.

He hadn't been at the courthouse.

She hadn't asked him to come.

There was no reason he should have been there.

Still, she suspected he might have understood something about the peculiar grief she was experiencing.

Landon knew what it was like to belong to a family whose wealth and expectations shaped nearly every relationship.

He also knew Mimsy.

He had witnessed enough of her behavior to understand that Summer's feelings toward her were complicated.

For a fleeting moment, Summer wished she could call him.

Then she remembered that their lives had moved in entirely different directions.

He was married now.

He had a child.

Whatever affection remained between them belonged to the past.

Summer opened her phone and searched for his wedding announcement.

She found a photograph from the ceremony.

Landon stood at the altar in an immaculate suit, his expression unusually solemn.

Beside him, Paisley smiled toward the camera, visibly pregnant beneath her wedding gown.

Summer studied the photograph.

Landon looked older.

More serious.

She wondered whether fatherhood had changed him.

Perhaps it had.

Perhaps he had finally discovered that responsibility couldn't always be postponed in favor of another party, another vacation, or another convenient excuse.

She hoped so.

There was a time when Summer had imagined she would be the woman standing beside

him at an altar.

Now she could look at the photograph without wishing herself into Paisley's place.

That surprised her.

It also made her sad.

She and Landon had once been important parts of each other's lives.

They had shared a home, routines, ambitions, and years of memories.

Yet the futures they had eventually entered no longer had room for the relationship they once shared.

Summer put down her phone.

She didn't resent Paisley.

She didn't resent Landon.

And she no longer felt the need to imagine how differently things might have turned out.

Their lives had separated because, ultimately, they wanted and needed different things.

Some of those differences had been painful.

Others had become necessary.

That night, Summer returned to her apartment alone.

She set her keys on the counter and stood quietly in the kitchen.

The day had been emotionally exhausting.

For years, she had thought of herself as someone who belonged to a complicated collection of families.

There was Mimsy, with all her demands.

There had been Landon and his wealthy relatives.

There were the former stepfamilies who had entered and departed her life as Mimsy's marriages began and ended.

Summer had spent much of her adulthood trying to preserve those connections, even when doing so required her to surrender pieces of herself.

Now most of them were gone.

She was no longer Landon's partner.

She was no longer Mimsy's dependent daughter.

Heather had a household of her own.

Rusty and Cecilia remained part of her life, but they had their own families and responsibilities.

Summer had friends and people who cared about her.

She wasn't entirely alone.

But for the first time, she understood that no one else was going to organize her life around her needs.

There would be no wealthy boyfriend to shield her from financial uncertainty.

No mother whose approval she could earn through endless sacrifice.

No family arrangement that guaranteed her a permanent place simply because she had been useful.

The realization was frightening.

It was also strangely liberating.

Summer thought about the woman she had been when she first moved in with Landon.

She had believed that love meant making herself indispensable.

That security came from belonging to someone else's household.

That if she worked hard enough, tolerated enough, and gave enough, the people she loved would eventually value her.

She knew better now.

She had learned that affection could not be purchased through obedience.

That gratitude did not require surrendering one's independence.

And that being needed was not the same as being loved.

Summer walked to the window and looked out at the evening.

Her future remained uncertain.

Her health required attention.

Her career had not recovered the momentum she once enjoyed.

And there were still days when loneliness settled over her with an uncomfortable weight.

But she had a home she could afford, work she could manage, and the ability to make decisions without waiting for someone else's permission.

It wasn't the life she had imagined.

It was hers.

For the first time, Summer understood that being on her own did not necessarily mean being abandoned.

Sometimes it meant that she had finally stopped abandoning herself.