Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE HE HAD ALREADY GIVEN AWAY
At 10:43 that night, while Daniel was supposedly drinking with Greg in Scottsdale, I discovered he'd been trying to give away a house he didn't control.
I didn't call him.
Not yet.
For thirty-two years, I had made the same mistake whenever Daniel created a problem.
I confronted him immediately.
He explained.
I became angry.
He minimized.
I eventually cleaned everything up.
This time, I wanted facts before excuses.
I called Denise Harper.
Denise had handled our real-estate work for seventeen years.
She also happened to be one of the few people who had repeatedly told Daniel to read contracts before signing them.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Claire?”
“Sorry it's late.”
“That sentence always means I'm about to lose sleep.”
“I need you to pull the C&D Holdings file.”
A pause.
“What's happened?”
“Daniel told Melissa he's giving her Maple Street.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“He told her what?”
“Apparently they're finalizing something.”
“Claire, Daniel can't transfer that property.”
“I know.”
“Without your written approval, he can't even refinance it.”
“That is exactly why I'm calling.”
I told her about the canceled trip.
Scottsdale.
Melissa's text.
Denise went quiet.
Then I heard keyboard clicks.
“I'll check the title monitoring service.”
While she worked, I packed.
Not for babysitting.
Not for Daniel.
For myself.
I put hiking shoes back into my suitcase.
Jeans.
Sweaters.
The guidebook I'd spent six months highlighting.
I had canceled hotels because Daniel canceled the reservation package, but Utah had not disappeared.
Colorado was still there.
I didn't need Daniel's permission to drive west.
“Claire.”
Denise's voice changed.
“What?”
“I found something.”
My hand stopped over a stack of T-shirts.
“There was a lender inquiry filed against the LLC eleven days ago.”
“What kind?”
“Commercial refinance.”
My heart began beating harder.
“For which property?”
“Not just Maple Street.”
The keyboard clicked again.
“Maple Street. Canyon Drive. And the duplex on Ridgeway.”
Three properties.
Combined equity: more than $900,000.
“How much was he trying to borrow?”
“Six hundred and twenty thousand.”
I sat down.
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he sign?”
“He submitted preliminary member authorization.”
My stomach tightened.
“Member authorization from whom?”
Denise stopped typing.
Then she said carefully, “Both of you.”
I stood back up.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“I didn't authorize anything.”
“I figured.”
“How?”
“Electronic signature.”
“I didn't sign it.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there's a certification saying you executed it Tuesday at 2:16 p.m.”
Tuesday at 2:16, I had been sitting in a dental chair having a crown replaced.
I could prove exactly where I'd been.
“Send it to me.”
A minute later, the document appeared.
Daniel's signature looked normal.
Mine looked nearly perfect.
Nearly.
Whoever had done it had copied an older version of my signature.
The C in Claire was too narrow.
I hadn't signed that way in years.
Then I saw the lender.
DESERT BRIDGE CAPITAL.
Scottsdale, Arizona.
I stared at the company address.
“Denise.”
“Yes?”
“Daniel said he's in Scottsdale golfing with Greg.”
“So?”
I searched Greg's full name.
Gregory Hollis.
The result appeared immediately.
MANAGING PARTNER — DESERT BRIDGE CAPITAL.
I felt the last thirty minutes rearrange themselves inside my head.
Greg wasn't simply Daniel's golf friend.
He was the lender.
Daniel hadn't flown to Scottsdale because he refused to sacrifice his weekend.
He had flown there because something involving our properties was happening in person.
Denise spoke carefully.
“Claire, there's another page.”
I scrolled.
A proposed closing date appeared near the bottom.
Tomorrow.
9:30 a.m.
Arizona time.
And beneath it was a line that made my hands go cold.
Purpose of proceeds:
MEMBER DISTRIBUTION AND FAMILY PROPERTY TRANSFER.
May you like
Daniel wasn't planning to discuss giving Melissa my house.
He was planning to close the deal before I even knew it existed.
