Chapter 24 - The Email He Couldn't Blame on Age
The email came from Sayer's own project analyst.
Her name was Lena Ortiz. She had reviewed the proposed acquisition of the garden claim and raised questions about the signature page, missing originals, and correspondence describing access rather than a sale.
Her warning was direct.
I cannot verify an executed purchase option. The supplied materials appear inconsistent. Obtain independent confirmation from Finch before assigning value to this claim.
Sayer's reply was shorter.
Finch won't agree voluntarily. The site premium justifies enforcing the package. Proceed through Rusk.
There were other messages. Together, they showed questions had been raised before anyone sent me a photograph of my barn.
Elise explained what the records established and what they didn't.
Knowledge of a weak claim wasn't identical to admitting fabrication. The messages mattered alongside the original access license, the document history, and what Rusk and Stuart had said.
I appreciated her caution.
I also allowed myself to feel angry without having to prove I was confused first.
Lena still worked for Sayer when she was questioned through the legal process. She confirmed her warning and identified the materials she had reviewed.
I didn't call her to say thank you. Elise explained that contact concerning testimony belonged through proper channels.
Respecting a witness meant letting her do her job without making my gratitude another pressure.
Meanwhile, Rusk called my office.
Vic took the message and sent it to Elise.
Rusk wanted a private meeting. He suggested he could clarify the document history if I helped cover the financial consequences of his cooperation.
Elise's answer was brief: preserve records, obtain counsel, and communicate through the attorneys.
I wasn't buying the truth from the man who had helped sell the lie.
A week later, he changed attorneys.
Then additional records appeared through discovery.
A document-editing invoice. Earlier versions of the alleged option. A message attaching the access license with instructions to retain the execution sheet.
The word execution had never sounded uglier to me.
Our examiner's work supported the conclusion that the option copy had incorporated the genuine signature sheet from a different agreement. The firm's original license and retained records provided the comparison that speculation couldn't.
The facts were finally standing close enough together to be seen as one thing.
At the management meeting, I gave Vic and Marcus the update Elise approved.
Neither man cheered.
Vic rubbed his forehead.
“How much longer?”
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
Hope was useful. Scheduling payroll around hope was not.
We continued working.
That Saturday, June and I drove to the ocean.
For the first hour, I checked my phone every time the screen lit.
At a gas station, she handed me a paper map.
“I know the car has navigation. This is symbolic.”
“What does it symbolize?”
“That you can be somewhere else for two days.”
I turned off the unnecessary notifications.
We walked the beach wearing coats and regrettable hats. The wind made conversation difficult, which June said improved some of mine.
At the hotel, she opened the curtains before unpacking. The room smelled faintly of clean towels and salt air. We argued pleasantly over which side of the bed had the better lamp, then went downstairs without checking the weather at home. I had spent so long guarding my life that simply using it felt like learning something.
At dinner, I told her about Ruth's list.
“I've worried that finishing it means leaving her behind.”
June looked toward the dark water.
“I think you can carry somebody without making yourself their unfinished business.”
I sat with that for a long time.
Then I asked whether she'd like to see the mountains in spring.
“With you?”
“I was hoping.”
She smiled.
“That sounds like our list.”
Monday morning, I returned to an email from Elise.
Sayer had requested formal settlement discussions.
May you like
For the first time, the proposal began with his withdrawal of the purchase claim.
I read the opening sentence beside the office window. Below me, Vic was checking a delivery while Marcus reviewed the day's routes. Neither looked up. They were doing work they expected to continue owning. I printed the proposal, set it beside my notebook, and called the two men upstairs before I answered anything.
