Chapter 3 - THE DEBT THAT HAD A DEADLINE
Marcus did not wait twenty-four hours.
At 8:12 the next morning, he pounded on Nora’s front door.
She left it locked.
He stood on the porch in yesterday’s black suit without a tie.
“We need to talk.”
“Call Gerald.”
“This isn’t Gerald’s business.”
“You made it his business at Dad’s funeral.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“You don’t understand what happens if I can’t pay.”
Nora remained behind the glass storm door.
“Then explain it.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
The $340,000 was spread across three sources.
A personal line of credit.
Credit-card cash advances.
And $185,000 owed to a private debt-consolidation lender that specialized in high-risk borrowers.
No mobsters.
No men waiting in parking lots.
Contracts could be frightening enough.
Marcus had pledged financial assets and represented that he expected substantial proceeds from Harold’s estate.
Nora stared at him through the glass.
“You borrowed money against an inheritance before Dad was dead?”
“I expected the house to be sold eventually.”
“It wasn’t yours.”
“I thought it would be split.”
“You knew about the deed.”
Marcus looked away.
There it was.
Nora unlocked the inner door but kept the storm door closed.
“When did you find out?”
“Last year.”
“How?”
“Mom told me.”
Nora felt something shift.
“Mom knew?”
Marcus immediately realized he had said too much.
“Nora, listen—”
“How long has she known the house was mine?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said she told you.”
“She found the paperwork after Dad got sick.”
Nora remembered Elaine at the funeral.
You can find somewhere else to live.
Not ignorance.
A bluff.
Marcus leaned closer.
“I need liquidity within three weeks.”
“That’s your problem.”
“If I default, they can come after my ownership in the company.”
Nora paused.
Marcus held twenty percent of Farwell Architectural Millwork.
Harold had retained forty-eight percent.
Elaine owned twenty-two.
A longtime employee trust owned the rest.
Harold’s company interest actually was part of his estate.
Gerald had not yet told them how it would be distributed.
“What does the house have to do with company shares?”
Marcus looked tired.
“I can sell the house, pay the debt and keep the company stock.”
“You cannot sell my house.”
“If you disclaim your interest—”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“No.”
His face hardened.
“That company feeds fifty-three families.”
“So your gambling debt is now payroll?”
“You think Dad wanted outsiders taking his company because you’re being stubborn?”
Nora reached for the door.
Marcus slapped his palm against the glass.
She flinched.
He saw it.
For half a second shame crossed his face.
Then fear swallowed it.
“You always get to be the responsible one,” he said. “Some of us don’t have that luxury.”
Nora stared at him.
“Responsibility isn’t something that happened to me.”
She closed the door.
Ten minutes later Gerald called.
“Nora, do not sign anything Marcus gives you.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Your brother’s lender contacted the estate this morning.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus represented something besides expected inheritance.”
Gerald paused.
“He represented that Harold had agreed to guarantee part of his debt.”
Nora looked toward the urn containing her father’s spare house keys.
May you like
“Did Dad?”
“That is what we now have to determine.”
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