Chapter 2 - The Red Dashboard of Ruin
The heavy oak door slammed shut with a definitive, hollow thud that echoed off the cedar siding. Patrick stood frozen on the porch, his jaw hanging open, looking at the brass numbers beside the bell as if they belonged to an alien planet. His cell phone, which had been buzzing continuously in his pocket since they disembarked at Port Everglades, suddenly rang with a piercing tone.
It was his loan officer at Chase Private Client.
Patrick pressed the phone to his ear with trembling fingers. "Hello?"
"Mr. Vance, this is Marcus Reynolds," a brisk, professional voice came through the receiver. "We’ve attempted to contact you for four consecutive business days regarding the delinquent status of your primary commercial vehicle loan. The automated sweep from your mother’s account was terminated, and your secondary checking account lacks sufficient funds to cover the twelve-hundred-dollar monthly note plus the overdraft penalty."
"I... I was out of the country on international waters," Patrick stammered, his eyes darting toward Megan, who was frantically dialing numbers on her own phone. "There must be an administrative error with the autopay routing numbers."
"There is no error, sir," the banker replied coldly. "The primary account holder, Mrs. Evelyn Vance, formally revoked third-party debit authorization in person at our downtown branch before closing her accounts. If the balance of two thousand four hundred dollars isn't settled by five p.m. today, your vehicle will be scheduled for immediate repossession."
Patrick dropped his arm, the phone dangling limply beside his leg. Before he could process the banker's words, Megan let out a shrill scream that startled a flock of seagulls off the wooden pier.
"Patrick! My storage unit in Highland Park!" she shrieked, holding her phone out so he could see the glaring red notification banner. "They auctioned off my overflow designer wardrobe and antique furniture yesterday morning! The automatic debit bounced twice while we were in Cozumel, and because the emergency contact was your mother, they sent all default warnings to her address! She ignored them! She let them sell everything!"
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"Mom wouldn't do that," Patrick whispered, his voice cracking like a terrified schoolboy. "She loves the kids. She loves this house. She spent thirty years planting those rose bushes by the dock with Dad."
"Well, your precious mother just sold your inheritance out from underneath you while we were drinking piña coladas!" Megan screamed, tears of pure rage streaking through her bronzer. "Call her right now, Patrick! Call that spiteful old woman and demand to know where our money went!"
