“The five-day demand isn't the same thing as a lawful foreclosure sale, and several statements in these papers need clarification.”
I felt some relief.
Rachel continued.
“I'm going to request the underlying loan agreement, a complete account history, the insurance basis for the alleged breach, and the documents authorizing the transfer of servicing.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She studied me.
“Marcus, we also need to work out how much of this forty thousand dollars is actually due, and which charges are disputed.”
I looked toward Vanessa.
Rachel followed my gaze.
Then her expression hardened.
“And I need to be sure nobody associated with Northstar is directing your legal decisions.”
Vanessa nodded immediately.
“Agreed.”
Rachel appeared surprised.
Then continued.
“I'll communicate with the relevant legal representatives directly.”
Vanessa stood.
“That's appropriate.”
For a moment, the two women studied each other.
Then Rachel nodded.
“Good.”
It was the first time in a week I felt something other than panic.
There were people who understood the documents.
People willing to ask questions.
And a plan more useful than sitting in my garage staring at a number I couldn't pay.
But relief lasted only until the following morning.
I arrived to find a new letter taped to the service entrance.
It came from a property acquisition company I'd never heard of.
Harbor Gate Development.
The letter offered to purchase the garage property, assume the outstanding debt, and arrange for me to vacate within thirty days.
The amount was insulting.
Far below what the land and building were worth.
I stared at the signature.
Then called Rachel.
She asked me to photograph the entire document and send it to her.
I did.
Ten minutes later, she called back.
“Marcus, don't sign anything.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
I looked toward the garage.
“Who are they?”
She hesitated.
“Harbor Gate is connected to a redevelopment partnership pursuing several properties in your industrial district.”
I felt cold.
“Connected to who?”
She took a breath.
“I'm still checking the ownership. But one of the entities appears to have business relationships with investments previously advised by Arthur Bell.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I looked toward the old anniversary photograph.
The man with the gold watch.
The man my father had refused.
The man who now had influence over my loan.
It was beginning to look less like a coincidence.
And more like somebody had spent years waiting for the garage to become vulnerable.