Chương 14
“Possibly, depending on online access settings.”
“I don’t want her seeing anything.”
“We can address that separately.”
He turned his monitor slightly away from me and typed.
“Have you spoken with an attorney?”
“No.”
“You may want to.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“There are legal aid resources.”
“Everyone keeps giving me more professionals to call.”
Kevin gave me a sympathetic look.
“That tends to happen when one problem contains several different problems.”
“That should be printed on government forms.”
He almost smiled.
Then he got serious.
“I need to be clear about something.”
“Okay.”
“The credit union review is not a criminal investigation.”
“I understand.”
“We determine account handling, access, and our obligations under the account agreement.”
“And if it looks like she misused the money?”
“We document our findings.”
“For who?”
“For you, for our records, and potentially for any outside authority you choose to involve.”
My stomach tightened.
“Police.”
“Possibly.”
I stared through the glass wall.
A woman at the teller counter was arguing about a fee while a toddler pushed a toy car along the floor.
Life continuing within twelve feet of mine.
“I don’t know if I want that.”
“You don’t have to decide today.”
That was becoming another phrase I trusted.
Kevin printed a confirmation showing the account restriction.
I folded it into my folder.
Before I left, I asked, “If the money was taken improperly, does that help my mortgage?”
He shook his head.
“Not directly.”
Of course it did not.
Nothing useful crossed departments in real life.
Every problem demanded its own paperwork.
Outside, I called Marisol.
She answered on the third ring.
“Tell me something good.”
“I have a phrase I’m professionally unable to guarantee.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then I explained the credit union restriction and the cash.
She listened.
“That doesn’t affect the collection issue,” she said.
“I figured.”
“But it does matter that you’re preserving funds and documenting the source.”
“So I shouldn’t use any of that money for closing.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“Eric has enough to pay the settlement.”
“Did he send you the letter?”
“Yes.”
“I reviewed it this morning.”
My chest tightened.
“And?”
“If the collector confirms in writing that payment satisfies the balance and that the account will be updated accordingly, underwriting can consider the resolution.”
“Can they do that before Tuesday?”
“If everyone moves quickly.”
There it was.
Everyone.
The most dangerous word in any plan.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That feels suspicious.”
“Enjoy it.”
I smiled.
Then she said, “I also spoke with Nina.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“The seller?”
“She requested an extension.”
“And?”
“They haven’t answered.”
I closed my eyes.
“How long did she ask for?”
“Seven days.”
“Do we need all seven?”
“I’d rather have seven and need two.”
“Do you think they’ll agree?”
“I think they want certainty.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the best one I have.”
I leaned against the car.
A gust of wind lifted the edge of my folder.
I shoved it under my arm.
“What happens if they say no?”
“We clear underwriting before Wednesday or you make a decision with Nina about proceeding without that protection.”
“No.”
“Good.”
I paused.
“You sound relieved.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because proceeding without financing protection when your file is unresolved would be a much bigger risk.”
“So losing the house could be the responsible choice.”
“Yes.”
I hated that.
Marisol must have heard it in my silence.
“Claire, buying the wrong way can create a different kind of instability.”
“I know.”
“This house is not your only chance.”
I looked through the rear window at Emma’s blanket.
It felt like she was wrong even if she was technically right.
For Emma, every temporary place had begun to feel like evidence.
My parents’ house.
The hospital.
Lena’s spare room.
I had wanted Alder Street to become the first place that stayed.
“I know,” I said anyway.
After we hung up, I drove to work.
My manager, George, had allowed me to work remotely while Emma recovered, but the employment verification Marisol needed required updated payroll certification.
George was waiting beside my desk with a folder.
“You look like you’re here to audit me,” he said.
“I might.”
“That would be fair.”
He handed me the form.
“HR signed it.”
I looked at the dates.
The overtime hours were included.
“You got this already?”
“I asked Friday.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You had enough things to obsess over.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“No, but it was my paperwork.”
I looked at him.
George shrugged.
“I contain multitudes.”
“You contain coffee.”
“That too.”
I scanned the form and emailed it to Marisol.
One requirement gone.
The relief lasted nine minutes.
Then Eric called.
“The collector won’t guarantee how they’ll report the account after payment.”
I stood from my desk.
“What exactly did they say?”
“That they’ll update the balance to zero, but they won’t promise deletion.”
“We never asked for deletion.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“I thought that was the whole point.”
“The point is resolving the balance.”
“Oh.”
I closed my eyes.
“You didn’t argue with them, did you?”
“Define argue.”
“Eric.”
“I asked why they wouldn’t remove it.”
“That’s not terrible.”
“I may have said their company created half this mess.”
“They didn’t create the part where you signed my name.”
“I know.”
“Did you insult anyone?”
“No.”
“Swear?”
“Not at them.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Please tell me the settlement is still open.”
“It is.”
“Good.”
“I’m ready to pay.”
“Wait until Marisol confirms.”
“She already did.”
“What?”
“She called me.”
I straightened.
“Marisol called you?”
“About forty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“You gave her permission to communicate with me about the debt.”
I had.
In one of the authorization forms I signed Friday.
I had forgotten.
“What did she say?”
“That if the collector confirms zero balance after payment and sends updated documentation, she can submit it to underwriting.”
May you like
“That’s what she told me.”
“So I can pay.”
