Chapter 7 - Father's Signature
I wanted to scream. Instead, I asked Dad for the papers.
“I don't have a copy,” he admitted. “Grant said he'd email it.”
“What was the loan for?”
“He said there was a timing gap before an investor transfer. He promised it would be repaid Monday.”
“How much?”
Dad looked at his shoes. “Two hundred thousand.”
For a moment the marina tilted around me. Dad had spent forty years operating a modest heating and cooling business. He could discuss an air handler for hours, but finance bored him. Grant had found the exact place where pride and ignorance overlapped.
“Was your house involved?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
I put my garment bag in the trunk and steadied myself against the car. This was the old trap: somebody else created a mess, and I became the only person who could see the cleanup clearly.
“I'll help you find a lawyer,” I said. “I won't promise to pay anything.”
Dad nodded, though I could tell he'd expected more.
Back near the dock, guests were dispersing in small, angry groups. One of Vanessa's friends hugged her. Another demanded a refund for a hotel room. The engagement banner hung above a stack of untouched floral arrangements, expensive flowers wilting in the sun.
Vanessa approached slowly. “Dad said you know about the loan.”
“Did you know?”
“Grant told me it was normal. Just business cash flow.”
“Did he tell you our father might have pledged the house?”
“No.” Her face changed. “He wouldn't do that.”
“Then get the paperwork.”
She shook her head. “You're trying to turn me against him.”
“You're doing a fine job ignoring the facts without my help.”
A black SUV pulled into the lot. Grant walked toward it at once, opened the rear door, and spoke to a man in a charcoal suit. The man didn't get out. He handed Grant a slim envelope and drove away.
Vanessa followed Grant with her eyes. “He's under a lot of pressure,” she whispered.
“Pressure doesn't give him permission to lie.”
Grant saw us watching. He shoved the envelope into his jacket and headed for the restaurant.
May you like
Then Dad's phone buzzed. He read the message, and the color drained from his face.
“It's from the lender,” he said. “They say the collateral documents have been recorded.”
