Chapter 2
The house in the photograph looked like something from a luxury real estate magazine.
Six bedrooms.
Four bathrooms.
A swimming pool.
Beautiful landscaping.
And a three-car garage.
I studied it for several seconds.
Then I looked at Ashley.
"That's a lovely house."
She smiled triumphantly.
"I'm glad you think so."
I placed the photograph on the table.
"But what does it have to do with me?"
George cleared his throat.
"Margaret, it's an exceptional investment opportunity."
I turned toward him.
"Then I hope you have the money to buy it."
Patricia made an irritated noise.
Ashley leaned forward.
"We already made an offer."
I stared at her.
"Congratulations."
Her smile tightened.
"We're under contract."
Daniel suddenly pushed his coffee cup aside.
"Ashley, maybe we should slow down."
She ignored him.
"The closing date is in six weeks."
I looked toward my son.
"Daniel?"
He avoided my eyes.
Something cold settled in my stomach.
"How much does this house cost?"
Ashley answered immediately.
"One million, two hundred thousand dollars."
I nearly dropped my fork.
Daniel and Ashley currently lived in a house worth roughly four hundred thousand dollars.
Their mortgage wasn't paid off.
Daniel worked in sales management.
Ashley worked in real estate marketing.
They earned decent salaries.
But certainly not enough to casually purchase a million-dollar property.
"How are you financing it?" I asked.
George smiled.
"That's where your house comes into the picture."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"Your property has appreciated considerably. Once sold, it could provide an excellent down payment."
I leaned back.
"So you've offered to buy a house using money from a property you don't own?"
Ashley rolled her eyes.
"Margaret, don't make it sound criminal."
"Then explain how it sounds sensible."
Patricia stepped in.
"Older generations used to help their children get established."
I looked directly at her.
"Have you offered to sell your home?"
She blinked.
"Our circumstances are different."
"Of course they are."
Ashley slammed her hand down.
"We're trying to give Lucy and Ben a better life!"
I looked toward Daniel.
"Did you agree to this?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"We thought it might work."
I felt my chest tighten.
"We?"
He swallowed.
"Mom, nobody was going to do anything without talking to you."
I pointed at the photograph.
"You already signed a purchase agreement."
Ashley crossed her arms.
"It's contingent on financing."
"Financing that apparently depends on me surrendering my home."
George raised both hands.
"Let's not use emotional language."
I looked at him.
"Then let's use accurate language."
He stopped smiling.
I turned toward Daniel.
"How much money have you committed?"
Daniel hesitated.
Ashley answered for him.
"Forty thousand dollars."
My stomach tightened.
"Forty thousand?"
She nodded.
"Earnest money."
I looked at my son.
"Where did you get forty thousand dollars?"
He stared at his plate.
Finally, he whispered, "Our savings."
I felt a painful pressure behind my ribs.
Daniel had told me several months earlier that money was tight.
He had asked whether I could help pay for Lucy's summer camp.
I gave him two thousand dollars.
Now he had committed forty thousand toward a house he couldn't afford.
I turned to Ashley.
"Did you know I had already refused to sell?"
She lifted her chin.
"We thought you'd understand once you saw the opportunity."
I stood.
"Then you've made an expensive mistake."
Patricia gasped.
"Margaret!"
I picked up my handbag.
"My answer is no."
Ashley stood too.
"You can't do this!"
I looked at her.
"I haven't done anything."
She pointed at the photograph.
"We could lose our deposit!"
"Then speak with your real estate agent."
George's face hardened.
"You're putting your son's financial future at risk."
I turned toward him.
"No, George. Whoever signed that contract did."
Daniel finally looked up.
"Mom, please."
His voice was quiet.
Almost pleading.
For one brief moment, I saw the little boy who used to climb into my lap after a nightmare.
My heart hurt.
But I knew I couldn't rescue him from every consequence.
"Daniel, I love you."
His eyes filled slightly.
"But I will not sell my home."
I walked toward the door.
Ashley followed me.
"You're choosing a building over your grandchildren!"
I stopped.
"No."
I turned toward her.
"I'm choosing not to let you use my grandchildren to manipulate me."
Then I left.
I cried in my car.
Not because I regretted saying no.
Because my son had allowed this situation to happen.
I drove home slowly.
When I walked through my front door, I touched the hallway wall.
Robert had painted it pale yellow the summer before Daniel started high school.
He'd gotten paint in his hair.
We laughed for an entire evening.
I couldn't imagine strangers tearing down the walls or throwing away the memories.
That afternoon, Claire came over.
I told her everything.
When I mentioned the forty-thousand-dollar deposit, she sat up.
"Margaret, they may be desperate."
I nodded.
"I know."
She looked serious.
"And desperate people sometimes make dangerous decisions."
I tried to laugh.
"They can't sell a house that isn't theirs."
"No."
Claire leaned forward.
"But they can make your life miserable trying."
Her words frightened me.
The following morning, I called an attorney.
His name was Jonathan Price.
He specialized in estate planning and property matters.
We arranged an appointment for Thursday.
He asked me to bring my deed and any documents relating to the house.
I gathered everything.
Mortgage satisfaction letter.
Property tax records.
Insurance information.
The deed naming me as sole owner.
I placed them in a folder.
Then I checked the locks.
I didn't know why.
Perhaps because I suddenly felt the need to protect something I'd never imagined losing.
That evening, Daniel called.
"Mom, Ashley says you were cruel to her parents."
I closed my eyes.
"Daniel, your wife and her parents planned to use my home to buy themselves a mansion."
He sighed.
"You're exaggerating."
I felt a sharp pain.
"Am I?"
Silence.
Then he said, "They thought you'd be happy living closer to us."
"Then why wasn't I asked?"
He had no answer.
I continued.
"You have six weeks to solve a problem you created."
"Mom, the deposit—"
"Is not my responsibility."
His voice hardened.
"You've changed."
I looked toward Robert's photograph.
"No, Daniel."
I swallowed.
"I've simply stopped agreeing to things that hurt me."
After we ended the call, I sat alone in the living room.
The sun was setting.
My garden glowed through the windows.
For a few minutes, I almost convinced myself everything would settle down.
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A man introduced himself as Eric Lawson from Heritage Community Bank.
He said he was calling to verify information connected to a pending financing application.
I frowned.
"What application?"
He hesitated.
"A proposed home-equity loan involving your property."
My heart stopped.
"I never applied for a loan."
There was a long silence.
Then he said, "Mrs. Hale, your name appears on the preliminary paperwork."
I gripped the phone.
"And the requested amount?"
He answered quietly.
"Six hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
I stared at the wall.
Someone wasn't simply planning to sell my house.
May you like
Someone was trying to borrow against it.
Without my permission.
