Chapter 2
Julian stared at the official county seal stamped onto the bottom right corner of the paper, his breath fogging in the crisp air. The logo of the municipal records office was unmistakable, embossed in metallic gold that caught the pale sunlight. He shook his head violently, taking two stairs at once to close the gap between them. His hands reached out instinctively to grab the document, but Eleanor simply pivoted away with a lightness that belied her age, keeping the paper safely out of his reach.
"You can't just do this," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, gravelly register. "My father left me this property in his will. The probate court closed six months ago. I have the keys in my pocket right now." He fished into the front pocket of his blue jeans, pulling out a heavy brass ring with three distinct keys attached to it, jingling them aggressively in front of her face. "See? Legal ownership. Yours is a piece of paper that means nothing."
Eleanor turned back to face him, her pink cardigan brushing against the freshly nailed oak planking. She did not raise her voice. Raising one's voice was for people who lacked evidence. Instead, she adjusted her pearl earrings, a small, grounding habit she relied upon when her composure was tested.
"Probate closed because the primary asset was encumbered by a secondary lien that your father took out twenty years ago to save his failing manufacturing business," Eleanor explained calmly, her tone conversational, as if they were discussing the weather. "A lien that transferred directly to the primary holder upon default. Which, as of midnight last night, is me."
Julian let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh that sounded almost like a bark. "My father's business cleared all its debts before he passed away. I handled the forensic accounting myself. You are lying, Eleanor. You’ve been bitter ever since the zoning board denied your garden expansion request three years ago, but this is corporate forgery. I am calling the sheriff right now." He reached for his smartphone, his thumb swiping frantically across the cracked screen.
May you like
Eleanor watched him with a pitying gaze that only enraged him further. She picked up a second nail, placing it carefully against a new plank, but she did not strike it yet. She wanted him to understand the finality of what was happening before the noise started again.
"Call whoever you like, Julian," she whispered, her eyes locking onto his. "The sheriff served your father the default notice on his deathbed. You were too busy fighting over his vintage car collection to read the fine print in the back of the binder."
