Chapter 8 - The Buyer With My Father's Name
Bledsoe stood with the stiff posture of someone who had just discovered the floor under him wasn't solid.
"Your Honor, I need a private conference with my clients about information not previously disclosed to me."
Judge Simmons granted one. Dad followed his lawyer into the hall. My mother remained seated, her purse resting on her knees like a shield.
"Did you know?" I asked her.
"That your father had a company? He has several. He said this one handled consulting."
"Did you know he was negotiating to sell my land to it?"
She shook her head.
For the first time in twelve years, I believed her immediately. It didn't mean I trusted her. Believing one answer and forgiving a decade were very different things.
After the conference, Bledsoe told the court that he couldn't verify the source of all the submitted documents or the full structure of the planned transaction. He withdrew the unsupported assertion that every paper receipt reflected an actual tax payment. He also said he could no longer represent to the court that the buyer was wholly unrelated to Robert Carter.
Tessa asked for the financing papers. The contract referenced a loan condition and a closing escrow account, but Wrenstone's financial documents hadn't been produced.
"There appears to be a plan to create a sale between entities controlled by or connected to one plaintiff," she argued. "My client isn't a party to it, and her title is in jeopardy."
The judge ordered limited expedited disclosure. He didn't decide whether the proposed loan was fraudulent. That was a question for records nobody yet had. But he noted that the seller's purported authority was the central weakness in the case.
Dad finally addressed me directly.
"Joseph always meant this place to support the family. You're letting it rot."
"Mr. Hanley's tenant is farming the fields. The roof is sound. The taxes are paid," I said. "You don't get to call something neglected because I won't hand it over."
"I spent my life keeping that family together."
Mom looked at him then. Not lovingly. Not angrily, either. As if the phrase had become unfamiliar in his mouth.
The judge asked Bledsoe whether there were any other transfers purportedly affecting title.
Bledsoe hesitated. "There is a later deed recorded in the index. I had assumed it was uncontested."
May you like
"Produce it," Judge Simmons said.
When Tessa set the copy before me, I found my own name signed at the bottom.
