Chapter 7 - Nine O'Clock
At 7:12 the next morning, Gabriel called with news: the land trust's records showed an unauthorized trustee replacement filing. Someone had listed Richard as acting chair after Grandma's death.
"Could the sale be legal?" I asked.
"Not if the trust instrument requires two independent approvals. But we need a court order before the deed records."
Talia drove us to the county courthouse while Gabriel prepared a declaration. We had forty-eight minutes before the scheduled closing. I printed copies of Grandma's ledger and the transfer receipt. The clerk looked at our paperwork and told us the emergency judge was hearing criminal arraignments.
"We can wait," I said.
"You can file now," she replied. "Whether a judge can hear it is another matter."
Gabriel took the paperwork and made a series of calls. I stood outside the hearing room, watching a digital clock change minute by minute.
At 8:38, my father appeared.
He wore a charcoal suit, no tie, and the expression of a man attending a minor business appointment. Martin Pike walked behind him with a lawyer.
"Sophie," Dad said warmly. "This has gone far enough."
"Then withdraw the sale."
"You don't understand the obligations involved."
"I understand the trust belongs to the community."
He stepped closer. "You have no idea how close you are to ruining your sister's marriage."
"Claire can speak for herself."
"She's not as strong as you. You know that."
He said it like praise. For years I'd accepted that tone as affection. Today I heard the trap inside it.
"What does strength have to do with stealing from families?"
Dad glanced toward the courthouse doors. "Watch your mouth."
"What will you do? Announce I'm unstable again?"
His face hardened. "I can still keep you safe."
"You keep calling it safety when you mean silence."
A bailiff opened the courtroom. Gabriel hurried over with stamped papers. "The judge will hear us in chambers."
Dad moved to follow, but the bailiff blocked him. "Only the applicants for now, sir."
Ten minutes later, the judge signed a temporary restraining order prohibiting transfer of the property pending a hearing. I felt my knees go weak.
Then the clerk checked her computer and frowned.
"We have a problem," she said. "The deed was recorded at 8:04 this morning."
Gabriel looked at the time stamp. "They moved closing ahead."
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The buyer's name wasn't Ashdown Partners.
It was Sophie Mercer.
