Chapter 18 - The Victory That Wasn't
By the second week of January, the expedited house sale had collapsed.
The prospective buyer withdrew rather than continue through the uncertainty surrounding the lien and release.
I received formal notice from the title company.
Beth opened a bottle of sparkling cider and proposed a quiet celebration.
“Not because Eric is in trouble,” she said.
“Because nobody gets to use a fake signature to hurry you into signing away your rights.”
We clinked glasses in my kitchen.
I should have felt victorious.
Instead I worried about the children and the second lender's approaching enforcement options.
Stopping a compromised sale had not solved Eric's financial crisis.
It had simply prevented one proposed solution from rolling forward without scrutiny.
The senior mortgage still existed.
The Broadleaf claim still existed.
My original loan still had to be resolved.
And Eric and Rachel were still responsible for finding housing and dealing with their debts.
That afternoon Sarah and Thomas met to discuss whether a negotiated standstill might preserve value while the investigations continued.
Nolan's counsel offered an extension in exchange for additional concessions.
No agreement was reached.
I did not attend every call.
For years I'd inserted myself into Eric's financial emergencies because I thought only I could save him.
Now professionals were doing the work they were trained to do.
My job was to protect my own rights and tell the truth.
On Sunday, Chloe and Max came to visit with Eric's permission.
We made cinnamon rolls from Frank's recipe.
Max spilled flour across the counter and insisted it looked like a snowstorm.
Chloe laughed so hard she had to sit down.
I almost cried at the sound.
For a few hours the house felt like home again.
After lunch Max asked whether their family would have to live in a hotel.
I told him adults were working on a plan and that the uncertainty wasn't his fault.
He nodded, then leaned his head against my shoulder.
“Can we always come here?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Whatever happens between the grown-ups, my door is open to you.”
I meant it.
I also knew I had to honor parental arrangements and not promise things beyond my control.
Still, I wanted those children to know there was one place where love wasn't attached to a bill.
After Eric picked them up, Rachel called.
She sounded unusually calm.
“I want to apologize for Christmas.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“I'm listening.”
“I was overwhelmed, and I said cruel things about Frank.”
I waited.
“I shouldn't have done that.”
The apology was simple and, for a moment, convincing.
Then she added, “Since we're moving forward, can you tell Thomas to stop pursuing the notary complaint?”
I felt the familiar disappointment settle into place.
“Rachel, an apology isn't a condition of withdrawing a report.”
“I thought you'd appreciate me making an effort.”
“I appreciate an apology that doesn't demand a reward.”
She sighed.
“You're impossible.”
“And we are done talking about the investigation.”
I ended the call.
An hour later Sarah contacted Eric with an urgent warning.
A creditor had begun action to enforce rights under the second loan, and there were deadlines to respond.
The lawyer was preparing appropriate filings and exploring the family's options.
The supposed victory over the sale had lasted less than two days.
That evening an official envelope arrived at my house.
It concerned litigation in which the validity and priority of my secured interest could be challenged.
I had expected a fight over documents.
May you like
Now it was coming into a courtroom.
