Chapter 2 - Two O'Clock
Mara's office stood above a bakery downtown, a narrow brick building with stairs that creaked under my combat boots.
She read Grandpa's documents with the concentration of someone handling fragile explosives.
"He kept better records than half my clients," she said.
"He kept everything," I told her.
She tapped Gene's old acknowledgment.
"This establishes a pattern, not ownership by itself.
The recorded property documents establish ownership.
We'll obtain fresh certified copies and check for filings you haven't seen."
I showed her the unsigned appointment message from my father.
Two o'clock.
Ashford Closing Services.
Be dressed appropriately.
Mara's eyes narrowed.
"Ashford handles real estate transactions, but that doesn't mean a transfer is legitimate.
I'll come with you."
Before leaving we called the bank again and confirmed that my fraud dispute had been opened and access tied to the questioned authorization was suspended pending review.
The representative cautioned that recovery could take time.
That part I understood.
What made me furious was realizing my mother had probably stood in line for baby furniture with my money while telling me she was too poor to buy groceries.
At 1:52, I walked into Ashford Closing Services wearing the same Army uniform I had arrived home in.
Gene stood in the lobby, smiling as though we were about to attend a graduation.
Linda was beside him.
Paige sat in a chair with Brett hovering nearby.
My father noticed Mara and stopped smiling.
"Who's this?"
"My attorney."
"This is a family matter."
"Then you won't mind if the family business is documented," I said.
A closing agent named Teresa Ashford invited everyone into a conference room.
On the table sat a neatly clipped packet titled SPECIAL WARRANTY DEED.
Paige's name appeared in the grantee line.
My name appeared in the grantor line.
The stated consideration was ten dollars.
Gene pushed a pen toward me.
"Let's get this done."
Mara put one finger on the packet.
"Before anything is signed, who prepared this document, and who represented that my client consented to convey the property?"
Teresa glanced from my father to me.
"Mr.
Braddock said his daughter approved the transfer."
"I didn't," I said.
Silence pressed against the conference-room walls.
My mother was the first to recover.
"Quinn is upset about a bedroom.
She's making this bigger than it is."
"Forty-five thousand dollars is bigger than a bedroom," I said.
Paige looked sharply at Linda.
"What forty-five thousand?"
Gene stood.
"That's enough."
Mara remained seated.
"No one is transferring this house today.
My client is disputing a power of attorney and related withdrawals.
We will also be preserving communications concerning this transaction."
Teresa removed the pen from the table.
"I can't proceed without the owner's voluntary signature."
My father's expression became the one I remembered from childhood, when an order had failed and he was searching for a punishment.
"You are humiliating this family," he told me.
"No," I replied.
"I'm refusing to donate my house."
Brett leaned across the table.
"We've already spent money based on your promise."
"Show me where I promised."
He opened his mouth, then looked at Gene.
That look was worth more than an admission.
Teresa closed the folder.
"The appointment is over."
As we gathered our things, Gene leaned toward me.
"You think an attorney can protect your career from me?"
Mara heard him.
She turned slowly.
"Captain Braddock," she said, "write down those exact words while they're fresh."
On the sidewalk, Paige hurried after me.
"If you ruin my baby's future," she whispered, "I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of sister you are."
Before I answered, Mara's phone rang.
She listened for ten seconds and went still.
"Quinn," she said when she hung up, "the county's records office just found something unusual.
May you like
A lien was recorded against your property three weeks ago."
