PART 2 \u2014 THE MEETING MY HUSBAND HID FROM ME
\nFor several seconds, I just stared at Samuel.
\n\u201cWhat do you mean, Mark came to see my father?\u201d
\nSamuel didn\u2019t answer immediately.
\nInstead, he opened the second folder.
\nInside were several sheets of paper, a yellow legal pad covered in Dad\u2019s handwriting, and a sealed envelope with my name written across the front.
\nI recognized the handwriting instantly.
\nCLARE.
\nMy throat tightened.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cAbout six months ago.\u201d
\nSix months.
\nDad had still been driving then.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Still meeting his old friends for breakfast every Thursday.
\nStill calling me whenever his phone updated and moved an icon somewhere he couldn\u2019t find it.
\nAnd apparently, sometime during those ordinary days, my husband had gone to see him without telling me.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nSamuel folded his hands.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what your father wanted you to know.\u201d
\nI looked at the envelope.
\n\u201cDid Mark come here?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen where did they meet?\u201d
\n\u201cAt your father\u2019s house.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cDad told you about it?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\nSamuel took a breath.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cAccording to Walter, Mark arrived one afternoon while you were visiting your daughter in Cincinnati. He told your father he wanted to discuss your future.\u201d
\nI almost laughed.
\n\u201cMy future?\u201d
\n\u201cThat was how he presented it.\u201d
\nSamuel turned one of the pages toward me.
\nIt was Dad\u2019s handwriting.
\nThe date was six months earlier.
\nUnderneath it, Dad had written:
\nMARK CAME BY AT 2:15. CLARE DOES NOT KNOW.
\nI touched the edge of the paper.
\nDad documented everything.
\nOil changes.
\nContractor estimates.
\nDoctor appointments.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
If someone borrowed twenty dollars from him in 1989, there was probably a notebook somewhere recording it.
\n\u201cWhat did Mark want?\u201d
\nSamuel looked directly at me.
\n\u201cHe wanted to know how much you would inherit.\u201d
\nThe room seemed to become very quiet.
\nI thought about Mark sitting at our kitchen table three days after Dad died.
\nConservatively, it has to be a few million.
\nSuddenly, that sentence sounded different.
\n\u201cHow much did Dad tell him?\u201d
\n\u201cNothing.\u201d
\nI felt a small rush of relief.
\nIt lasted approximately two seconds.
\n\u201cMark apparently became persistent.\u201d
\n\u201cHow persistent?\u201d
\nSamuel glanced at Dad\u2019s notes.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cHe asked about the company sale. Investment accounts. The house. Life insurance. He asked whether you were the sole beneficiary.\u201d
\nI slowly leaned back.
\nThose weren\u2019t casual questions.
\nThose were inventory questions.
\n\u201cWhy would Mark think Dad would tell him any of that?\u201d
\n\u201cYour father wondered the same thing.\u201d
\nSamuel slid another sheet toward me.
\nDad had written one sentence in capital letters.
\nHE THINKS CLARE\u2019S INHERITANCE BELONGS TO HIM.
\nMy eyes burned.
\nI could hear Dad saying it.
\nNot angrily.
\nDad rarely raised his voice.
\nHe would have said it in that calm, disappointed way that somehow hurt more than shouting.
\n\u201cWhat happened next?\u201d
\n\u201cWalter told Mark that his estate arrangements were private.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Mark left?\u201d
\n\u201cNot immediately.\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s expression hardened.
\n\u201cHe told Walter that after twenty-two years of marriage, anything you inherited would effectively become marital property anyway.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cMark said that?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what Walter recorded.\u201d
\nMy first instinct was to defend my husband.
\nIt embarrassed me how automatic it was.
\nMaybe Mark had meant something else.
\nMaybe Dad misunderstood.
\nMaybe they were discussing taxes.
\nMaybe\u2014
\nThen I remembered the boat listing.
\nDiane\u2019s ranch house.
\nMelissa\u2019s two hundred thousand dollars.
\nMark quitting his job before Dad was even buried.
\nThe excuses collapsed one by one.
\n\u201cWhat did Dad say?\u201d
\nSamuel almost smiled.
\n\u201cWalter told him he should probably speak to an attorney before making assumptions.\u201d
\nDespite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me.
\nThat sounded exactly like Dad.
\nSamuel continued.
\n\u201cMark apparently didn\u2019t appreciate the suggestion.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he do?\u201d
\n\u201cHe asked your father whether he was planning to put restrictions on your inheritance.\u201d
\nMy hands went cold.
\n\u201cRestrictions?\u201d
\n\u201cTrusts. Separate-property provisions. Anything that might prevent Mark from having access.\u201d
\nI looked again at the envelope.
\nSix months ago, while I was away visiting our daughter, my husband had sat in my father\u2019s living room and tried to determine whether Dad intended to keep him away from money that wasn\u2019t even his yet.
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t Dad tell me?\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s expression softened.
\n\u201cHe struggled with that.\u201d
\nThat hurt.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cWalter called me the next morning. He was angry. But more than anything, he was worried.\u201d
\n\u201cAbout Mark?\u201d
\n\u201cAbout you.\u201d
\nI swallowed.
\nSamuel tapped the sealed envelope.
\n\u201cHe said if he confronted you directly, he was afraid you would feel forced to choose between your father and your husband.\u201d
\nDad knew me too well.
\nI probably would have defended Mark.
\nNot because Mark deserved defending.
\nBecause twenty-two years is heavy.
\nYou don\u2019t wake up one morning and casually accept that the person sleeping beside you may see your father\u2019s death as a financial opportunity.
\nYou explain.
\nYou minimize.
\nYou remember birthdays and vacations and inside jokes.
\nYou hold those memories up against the ugly thing in front of you and insist the ugly thing must have another explanation.
\nDad apparently understood that.
\n\u201cSo he did nothing?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s answer came quickly.
\n\u201cWalter did quite a lot.\u201d
\nHe opened the main estate folder.
\nSomething in his tone made my heartbeat change.
\n\u201cWhat did he do?\u201d
\n\u201cHe revised his estate plan.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cTwo weeks after Mark visited him.\u201d
\nI felt the blood drain from my face.
\n\u201cBecause of that conversation?\u201d
\n\u201cIn part.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\nSamuel turned several documents toward himself.
\n\u201cBefore I explain, I need to ask you something.\u201d
\nAnother question.
\nI wasn\u2019t sure I wanted any more questions.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cHas Mark ever asked you to sign anything related to your father\u2019s estate?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cHas he asked you to add his name to an account recently?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cHas he suggested refinancing your home?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nSamuel nodded slowly.
\n\u201cHas he discussed opening a joint investment account?\u201d
\nI stopped.
\nThree weeks earlier.
\nDad had still been alive.
\nMark and I had been brushing our teeth before bed when he casually mentioned that his bank had \u201cexcellent wealth-management options.\u201d
\nI hadn\u2019t thought anything of it.
\nActually, I had barely listened.
\n\u201cHe mentioned something.\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s eyes sharpened.
\n\u201cWhat exactly?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said we should open an investment account together.\u201d
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cAbout three weeks ago.\u201d
\n\u201cBefore Walter died?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nSamuel wrote something down.
\n\u201cDid you agree?\u201d
\n\u201cI said we could talk about it later.\u201d
\n\u201cGood.\u201d
\nThe word came out with enough relief that my stomach twisted.
\n\u201cSamuel, what is going on?\u201d
\nHe put down his pen.
\n\u201cYour father was concerned that Mark might attempt to persuade you to commingle inherited assets with marital assets.\u201d
\nI understood the individual words.
\nI just didn\u2019t like what they meant together.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause once money is mixed together, the legal situation can become significantly more complicated.\u201d
\nI stared at the papers.
\n\u201cSo Dad changed his will to keep Mark from getting anything?\u201d
\nSamuel shook his head.
\n\u201cNot exactly.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does \u2018not exactly\u2019 mean?\u201d
\n\u201cWalter didn\u2019t simply change his will.\u201d
\nHe paused.
\n\u201cHe restructured almost his entire estate.\u201d
\nI felt suddenly grateful that I was sitting down.
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cMost of Walter\u2019s significant assets are not passing directly to you.\u201d
\nMy heart dropped.
\nFor one irrational second, I thought Mark had been right about something else\u2014that maybe Dad had left everything to charity, distant relatives, employees, anyone but me.
\nSamuel must have seen my expression.
\n\u201cYou are still the primary beneficiary.\u201d
\n\u201cThen what are you saying?\u201d
\n\u201cThe assets are being held in a trust.\u201d
\n\u201cFor me?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWho controls it?\u201d
\n\u201cYou do, within the provisions Walter established.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd Mark?\u201d
\n\u201cHas no ownership interest in it.\u201d
\nThe sentence landed quietly.
\nBut I immediately understood its importance.
\nThe millions Mark had already started spending in his imagination were not sitting in an account waiting for him to access.
\nThey weren\u2019t his.
\nThey had never been his.
\nAnd Dad had made certain they would stay that way.
\nI looked down at my hands.
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\nSamuel was silent.
\n\u201cHow much is actually in the estate?\u201d
\nHe opened another document.
\n\u201cThe final values are still being calculated. Some assets will require appraisal.\u201d
\n\u201cSamuel.\u201d
\nHe nodded.
\n\u201cBased on current estimates, Walter\u2019s estate is worth approximately eleven-point-eight million dollars.\u201d
\nI forgot how to breathe.
\nEleven.
\nPoint.
\nEight.
\nMillion.
\nMark had guessed \u201ca few million.\u201d
\nReality was almost four times larger than his conservative estimate.
\nAnd somehow that made everything worse.
\nBecause if Mark discovered the actual number\u2014
\nI thought about his mother looking at ranch houses.
\nMelissa hugging him.
\nThe boat listing glowing on his laptop.
\n\u201cDoes Mark know?\u201d
\n\u201cNot from this office.\u201d
\n\u201cDid Dad tell him?\u201d
\n\u201cWalter specifically told me he did not.\u201d
\n\u201cThen Mark thinks it\u2019s maybe three or four million.\u201d
\n\u201cThat would be my assumption.\u201d
\nI stood and walked toward the window.
\nBelow us, people crossed the street carrying coffees, backpacks, briefcases.
\nNormal Thursday morning.
\nNormal lives.
\nBehind me sat paperwork that had just rearranged mine.
\n\u201cMy husband quit his job.\u201d
\nSamuel didn\u2019t respond.
\n\u201cHe quit three days after Dad died because he thinks my inheritance means he never has to work again.\u201d
\nStill Samuel said nothing.
\n\u201cHe promised his mother a house.\u201d
\nI turned.
\n\u201cAnd his sister two hundred thousand dollars.\u201d
\nSamuel removed his glasses.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cTwo nights ago.\u201d
\n\u201cHas he transferred any money?\u201d
\n\u201cThere isn\u2019t any money for him to transfer.\u201d
\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t what I asked.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d
\n\u201cHas he borrowed money based on the expectation of receiving access to your inheritance?\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened again.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nSamuel leaned forward.
\n\u201cFind out.\u201d
\nSomething in his voice frightened me.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Walter\u2019s concerns didn\u2019t begin with Mark asking questions.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nSamuel reached into the folder again.
\nThis time he removed a photocopy of what looked like a bank document.
\nHe placed it on the table but kept his hand over the bottom half.
\n\u201cYour father discovered something shortly after Mark visited him.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he discover?\u201d
\n\u201cA document had been submitted to one of Walter\u2019s financial institutions requesting information about an account.\u201d
\n\u201cBy who?\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s the problem.\u201d
\nSamuel removed his hand.
\nI looked down.
\nThere was Dad\u2019s name.
\nHis address.
\nAn account reference.
\nAnd beneath it was a signature.
\nWALTER HAIL.
\nExcept it wasn\u2019t Dad\u2019s signature.
\nI knew Dad\u2019s signature.
\nI had watched him write it thousands of times.
\nThis one was too smooth.
\nToo careful.
\nLike someone had practiced.
\nMy pulse began pounding in my ears.
\n\u201cWhat is this?\u201d
\n\u201cThe bank rejected the request because the signature did not match their records.\u201d
\n\u201cWho submitted it?\u201d
\n\u201cThey couldn\u2019t conclusively determine that.\u201d
\nI looked at Samuel.
\n\u201cBut Dad thought Mark did?\u201d
\nSamuel didn\u2019t answer.
\nHe didn\u2019t have to.
\nI sat down again.
\nSuddenly Mark quitting his job didn\u2019t look impulsive.
\nIt looked confident.
\nToo confident.
\nAs if he believed he knew exactly what was coming.
\nI thought about the previous six months.
\nMark asking whether Dad had updated his will.
\nMark mentioning investment accounts.
\nMark joking that we would \u201cnever have to worry about retirement.\u201d
\nThings I had dismissed because husbands and wives talk about money.
\nBut maybe Mark hadn\u2019t been talking.
\nMaybe he had been preparing.
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t Dad go to the police?\u201d
\n\u201cThe bank couldn\u2019t establish who submitted the document, and Walter didn\u2019t want to accuse anyone without proof.\u201d
\n\u201cSo what did he do?\u201d
\n\u201cHe started documenting everything.\u201d
\nSamuel tapped the yellow legal pad.
\n\u201cAnd he asked me to help him protect you.\u201d
\nI looked at the envelope again.
\n\u201cCan I read his letter?\u201d
\nSamuel nodded.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s why he wrote it.\u201d
\nMy fingers trembled as I picked it up.
\nI slid my thumb beneath the flap.
\nInside were four handwritten pages.
\nThe first line nearly broke me.
\nClare,
\nIf you are reading this, then I didn\u2019t get the chance to have this conversation with you myself.
\nI stopped.
\nMy vision blurred.
\nFor a moment, I was back in Dad\u2019s kitchen drinking terrible instant coffee while he complained that every television remote had too many buttons.
\nI wiped my eyes and continued.
\nI won\u2019t tell you what to do about your marriage. You\u2019re fifty-one years old, and you\u2019ve never needed your father making your decisions for you.
\nThat was Dad.
\nBut I need you to know something before money makes people behave differently around you.
\nI glanced at Samuel.
\nHe nodded for me to continue.
\nMark came to my house asking questions about what would happen to my money when I died. I didn\u2019t like it, but one bad conversation doesn\u2019t define a man. So I watched.
\nMy breathing slowed.
\nThen I reached the next paragraph.
\nWhat I saw afterward worried me more.
\nI looked up.
\n\u201cWhat did he see?\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s expression became unreadable.
\n\u201cKeep reading.\u201d
\nI lowered my eyes.
\nThere are things Mark has done that I cannot explain for him. Maybe he can explain them to you. Give him that opportunity if you believe he deserves it.
\nThen came a sentence underlined twice.
\nBut do not tell him what you inherited until you know why he needed the money before I was dead.
\nI read it again.
\nBefore I was dead.
\nA chill moved over my skin.
\nI turned the page.
\nDad had written three dates.
\nBeside the first was Mark\u2019s visit.
\nBeside the second was the suspicious bank request.
\nBeside the third was a date only nine days before Dad died.
\nNext to it, Dad had written:
\nASK SAMUEL ABOUT THE LOAN.
\nI looked up immediately.
\n\u201cWhat loan?\u201d
\nSamuel closed his eyes briefly.
\nWhen he opened them, the professional distance in his expression was gone.
\n\u201cClare, this is the part I was hoping your father had misunderstood.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat loan?\u201d
\n\u201cSix weeks ago, someone applied for a substantial private loan.\u201d
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cHow substantial?\u201d
\n\u201cSeven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cThe application was made by Mark.\u201d
\nI actually laughed once.
\nNot because anything was funny.
\nBecause the number sounded absurd.
\n\u201cMark doesn\u2019t have collateral for a loan that size.\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s silence answered before he spoke.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s why Walter became involved.\u201d
\nMy heartbeat seemed to stop.
\n\u201cWhat did Mark use as collateral?\u201d
\nSamuel turned the final document toward me.
\nAt the top was Mark\u2019s full legal name.
\nUnderneath it was our home address.
\nThen several lines describing anticipated assets.
\nMy eyes moved down the page.
\nAnd stopped.
\nPROSPECTIVE INHERITANCE \/ BENEFICIAL INTEREST \u2014 ESTIMATED VALUE: $4,000,000.
\nFor a moment, the words refused to make sense.
\nThen they did.
\nMark hadn\u2019t simply assumed my inheritance would support him.
\nHe had already tried to borrow against it.
\nWhile my father was alive.
\nWithout telling me.
\nI whispered, \u201cWas the loan approved?\u201d
\nSamuel looked at me for a long moment.
\nThen he said the four words that made my blood run cold.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s what worries me.\u201d
\nI gripped the edge of the table.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cThe lender rejected the original application.\u201d
\nRelief flashed through me.
\nThen Samuel continued.
\n\u201cBut three weeks ago, Mark submitted another one.\u201d
\nI stopped breathing.
\nSamuel slid a final page across the table.
\n\u201cThis time, he didn\u2019t list your prospective inheritance as collateral.\u201d
\nMy eyes dropped to the document.
\n\u201cWhat did he list?\u201d
\nSamuel pointed to one line.
\nI read it.
\nThen I read it again.
\nMy hands began shaking so badly that the paper rattled against the table.
\nBecause beneath the words COLLATERAL \/ GUARANTOR, Mark had entered a name.
\nNot mine.
\nMy father\u2019s.
\nWALTER HAIL.
\nAnd beside Dad\u2019s name was a signature.
\nSamuel leaned toward me.
\n\u201cClare, I need you to answer one question before you go home.\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t take my eyes off that signature.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cDid your father ever agree to guarantee a seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar loan for your husband?\u201d
\nI finally looked at him.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nSamuel\u2019s face went still.
\nI swallowed.
\n\u201cI know he didn\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cHow can you be certain?\u201d
\nBecause suddenly I remembered something.
\nSomething Dad had said nine days before he died.
\nAt the time, I thought he was confused.
\nWe had been sitting in his hospital room when he grabbed my wrist and whispered, \u201cDon\u2019t let Mark make me sign anything.\u201d
\nI had blamed the medication.
\nI had even reassured Mark about it later.
\nTold him Dad was saying strange things.
\nAnd Mark had gone completely silent.
\nI pushed back from the table so fast my chair scraped across the floor.
\nSamuel stood.
\n\u201cClare?\u201d
\nBut I was already reaching for my phone.
\nBecause another memory had just surfaced.
\nThe night Dad said those words, Mark had disappeared from the hospital room for almost forty minutes.
\nWhen he returned, he told me he had gone downstairs for coffee.
\nBut there had been no coffee in his hands.
\nAnd now, for the first time, I remembered exactly what he had been carrying instead.
\nDad\u2019s leather document folder.
\nThe same folder Dad kept locked in the bottom drawer of his desk.
\nThe same folder that contained copies of his financial records.
\nAnd when I looked back at the forged signature on the loan application, I realized something even worse.
\nI had seen that handwriting before.
\nNot on anything belonging to Dad.
\nOn twenty-two years of birthday cards.
\nAnniversary cards.
\nMortgage papers.
\nChecks.
\nAnd notes left on our refrigerator.
\nMy husband had tried to disguise his handwriting.
\nBut he had made one tiny mistake.
\nA mistake I had watched him make for more than two decades.
\nEvery time Mark wrote a capital H, the crossbar slanted sharply upward.
\nSo did the H in Walter Hail.
\nI looked at Samuel.
\n\u201cI know who signed this.\u201d
\nAnd before I could say Mark\u2019s name, my phone lit up.
\nMARK CALLING.
\nI stared at the screen.
\nThen a text appeared beneath it.
\nMark: Just talked to your dad\u2019s bank. We need to discuss something before you come home.
\nSamuel saw my face change.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nI slowly turned the phone toward him.
\nHe read the message.
\nThen looked at me.
\n\u201cClare… how does Mark know you\u2019re meeting with me?\u201d
\nI felt every hair on my arms rise.
\nBecause I hadn\u2019t told Mark where I was going.
\nI hadn\u2019t told anyone.
\nAnd as the phone started ringing again, one terrifying thought pushed everything else from my mind.
\nMaybe Mark hadn\u2019t been waiting for my father to die so he could spend the inheritance.
\nMaybe he had been waiting because something he\u2019d already done could only stay hidden while Dad was alive.
\nAnd suddenly, I needed to know exactly what had happened during those forty missing minutes at the hospital.
\nTO BE CONTINUED…………………<\/p>\n
PART 2 \u2014 THE MEETING MY HUSBAND HID FROM ME For several seconds, I just stared at Samuel. \u201cWhat do you mean, Mark came to see my father?\u201d Samuel didn\u2019t … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18],"class_list":["post-6565","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story","tag-aita","tag-diamond-ring","tag-diamonds","tag-engagement","tag-engagement-ring","tag-fiance","tag-fiancee","tag-lab-grown-diamonds","tag-photo","tag-picture","tag-reddit","tag-relationships","tag-top","tag-wedding"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6565","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6565"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6565\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6572,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6565\/revisions\/6572"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6565"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6565"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6565"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}