A Meal, a Missed Deal, and a Lawyer’s Fury

MY SPOUSE REQUESTED I DELIVER SUPPER TO HIS AILING MOTHER – EN ROUTE, MY ATTORNEY CONTACTED ME YELLING, “RETURN IMMEDIATELY!”

My MOTHER-IN-LAW, BERNICE, had been unwell for several days. On a WEDNESDAY NIGHT, my PARTNER, GREGORY, and I were SCHEDULED to complete A SIGNIFICANT ACHIEVEMENT: PURCHASING the DWELLING we had OCCUPIED for HALF A DECADE. But GREGORY DREW ME AWAY, appearing ANXIOUS.

“MOTHER ISN’T FEELING GOOD,” he stated. “SHE HASN’T CONSUMED ANYTHING TODAY. YOU OUGHT TO TAKE HER SUPPER.”

I PAUSED. “WE HAVE THAT APPOINTMENT WITH THE PROPERTY BROKER SHORTLY,” I RECALLED TO HIM. “COULDN’T WE DISPATCH READY-MADE FOOD?”

HE SCOWLED. “READY-MADE FOOD? SHE REQUIRES DOMESTICALLY PREPARED SOOTHING FARE. YOU ARE AWARE SHE ADORES YOUR BAKED PASTA.”

DIVIDED BETWEEN OUR ARRANGEMENTS AND DESIRING TO ASSIST HIS MOTHER, I RELENTED. PERHAPS THIS WOULD IMPROVE RELATIONS BETWEEN BERNICE AND MYSELF — SHE HAS NEVER TRULY ACCEPTED ME AS FAMILY.

I DEVOTED HOURS PREPARING THE BAKED PASTA and, AT 6 IN THE EVENING, WRAPPED IT UP AND JOURNEYED TO BERNICE’S RESIDENCE, A 40-MINUTE DRIVE. MIDWAY THERE, MY MOBILE DEVICE VIBRATED. IT WAS MY ATTORNEY, CHLOE.

“RETURN HOME. IMMEDIATELY. THEY ARE AT YOUR DWELLING,” she EXCLAIMED, her TONE PRESSING. ⬇️”WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘THEY ARE AT OUR DWELLING’?” I ASKED, CONFUSION AND A DREAD I COULDN’T QUITE NAME CLENCHING IN MY STOMACH. THE SIGNAL WAS CHOPPY AS I DROVE THROUGH A DIP IN THE ROAD.

“THE SELLERS AND THEIR AGENT. THEY’VE SHOWN UP AT YOUR HOUSE. APPARENTLY, THEY’RE SAYING THERE’S A PROBLEM WITH THE AGREEMENT. SOMETHING ABOUT A CLAUSE WE DISCUSSED? I NEED YOU HERE. NOW. DO NOT GO TO BERNICE’S. TURN. AROUND.” CHLOE’S VOICE WAS SHARP, LEAVING NO ROOM FOR ARGUMENT.

My HEART POUNDED. BERNICE, THE BAKED PASTA, GREGORY’S ANXIETY – ALL FADED IN IMPORTANCE COMPARED TO THE URGENCY IN CHLOE’S TONE. THIS WAS ABOUT OUR HOME, OUR FUTURE.

“BUT… GREGORY SENT ME TO HIS MOTHER’S,” I STAMMERED, ALREADY MAKING A U-TURN ON THE QUIET COUNTRY ROAD. “WE WERE SUPPOSED TO SIGN THE PAPERS TONIGHT. HE KNEW ABOUT THIS.”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT GREGORY KNEW OR DIDN’T KNOW. ALL I KNOW IS THAT MR. HENDERSON AND MRS. DAVIS ARE IN YOUR LIVING ROOM WITH THEIR AGENT, AND THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT ‘RENEGOTIATING’ TERMS. THIS ISN’T A GOOD SIGN. GET BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY. I’LL TRY TO STALL THEM.” THE LINE WENT DEAD.

RENEGOTIATING TERMS? AFTER WEEKS OF NEGOTIATIONS, AFTER WE HAD AGREED ON EVERYTHING? A COLD FEAR GRIPPED ME. HAD SOMETHING GONE TERRIBLY WRONG? WAS WE ABOUT TO LOSE THE HOUSE WE HAD POURED OUR HEARTS AND SAVINGS INTO?

I PRESSED ON THE ACCELERATOR, IGNORING THE SPEED LIMIT, THE BAKED PASTA SLOSHING AROUND ON THE PASSENGER SEAT. MY MIND RACED. WHY NOW? WHY SHOW UP AT OUR HOUSE UNANNOUNCED? IT SMELLED LIKE A SHAKE-DOWN, A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO EXTRACT MORE MONEY AT THE LAST MINUTE.

FORTY MINUTES FELT LIKE AN ETERNITY. I PARKED HASTILY IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE AND RUSHED INSIDE, THE BAKED PASTA STILL CLUTCHED IN MY HANDS. I FOUND CHLOE STANDING FIRMLY IN THE LIVING ROOM, FACING TWO UNFAMILIAR FACES – AN ELDERLY COUPLE, MR. HENDERSON AND MRS. DAVIS, AND A SMOOTH-TALKING REAL ESTATE AGENT. GREGORY WAS NOWHERE IN SIGHT.

“AH, HERE SHE IS,” THE AGENT SAID, A FAKE SMILE STRETCHING ACROSS HIS FACE. “MRS…?”

“THIS IS MY CLIENT,” CHLOE INTERRUPTED SHARPLY. “AND I BELIEVE WE HAD A FIRM AGREEMENT. WHAT EXACTLY IS THE ISSUE?”

MR. HENDERSON CLEARED HIS THROAT. “WELL, WE’VE HAD… SECOND THOUGHTS. ABOUT THE PRICE. RECENTLY, WE’VE BEEN ADVISED THAT THE PROPERTY VALUE IS ACTUALLY HIGHER THAN WE INITIALLY THOUGHT. AND FRANKLY, WE FEEL WE’RE UNDERSOLD.”

“UNDERSOLD?” CHLOE REPEATED, HER VOICE RISING SLIGHTLY. “WE AGREED ON A PRICE. WE HAVE A CONTRACT. ARE YOU SUGGESTING YOU’RE BREACHING THAT CONTRACT?”

MRS. DAVIS CHIMED IN, HER VOICE HIGH AND TREMBLING. “IT’S NOT THAT WE WANT TO BREACH IT, DEAR. IT’S JUST… WE’RE OLD. WE NEED THE MONEY. AND WE THINK IT’S ONLY FAIR…”

I STEPPED FORWARD, FINALLY FINDING MY VOICE. “FAIR? YOU THINK IT’S FAIR TO CHANGE THE RULES AT THE LAST MINUTE? WE’VE PACKED, WE’VE MADE ARRANGEMENTS, WE WERE LITERALLY ON OUR WAY TO FINALIZE EVERYTHING TONIGHT!” I GESTURED WITH THE BAKED PASTA, SUDDENLY FEELING RIDICULOUS HOLDING IT. “AND WHERE IS GREGORY? HE KNEW ABOUT THIS APPOINTMENT!”

CHLOE PLACED A REASSURING HAND ON MY ARM. “LET ME HANDLE THIS,” SHE MURMURED. THEN, TURNING BACK TO THE SELLERS AND THEIR AGENT, HER VOICE BECAME ICE COLD. “LET’S BE VERY CLEAR. WE HAVE A LEGALLY BINDING CONTRACT. IF YOU ATTEMPT TO UNILATERALLY ALTER THE AGREED PRICE, WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO PURSUE ALL AVAILABLE LEGAL RECOURSE. INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, SPECIFIC PERFORMANCE. ARE WE UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER?”

THE AGENT’S SMILE FALTERED. MR. HENDERSON AND MRS. DAVIS EXCHANGED NERVOUS GLANCES. THE AIR IN THE ROOM TIGHTENED.

AFTER A TENSE SILENCE, THE AGENT CLEARED HIS THROAT AGAIN. “PERHAPS… PERHAPS THERE HAS BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING. MY CLIENTS ARE SIMPLY… ANXIOUS ABOUT MAKING THE RIGHT DECISION.” HE SHOT A STERN LOOK AT MR. AND MRS. HENDERSON. “WE ARE, OF COURSE, COMMITTED TO THE CONTRACT.”

CHLOE PRESSED FURTHER. “COMMITTED TO THE ORIGINAL TERMS, INCLUDING THE AGREED PRICE?”

THE AGENT HESITATED, THEN NODDED SLOWLY. “YES. YES, OF COURSE.”

THE TENSION IN THE ROOM SLOWLY BEGAN TO DISSIPATE. CHLOE, WITH HER STEELY GAZE AND LEGAL JARGON, HAD EFFECTIVELY INTIMIDATED THEM. AFTER A FEW MORE MINUTES OF AWKWARD SMALL TALK AND WEAK SMILES, THE SELLERS AND THEIR AGENT LEFT, MUTTERING SOMETHING ABOUT “GETTING THINGS IN ORDER.”

CHLOE TURNED TO ME, A SMALL SMILE PLAYING ON HER LIPS. “CRISIS AVERTED. FOR NOW. WE’LL STILL NEED TO KEEP A CLOSE EYE ON THEM, BUT I THINK THEY GOT THE MESSAGE.”

RELIEF FLOODED THROUGH ME, SO POTENT IT ALMOST MADE ME WEAK. “THANK YOU, CHLOE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT YOU.”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR,” SHE SAID, PATTIING MY ARM. “NOW, WHERE IS GREGORY? AND WHAT’S WITH THE… BAKED PASTA?”

I EXPLAINED THE WHOLE STORY – BERNICE, THE SUPPER, GREGORY’S URGENCY TO SEND ME AWAY. CHLOE RAISED AN EYEBROW. “INTERESTING TIMING, ISN’T IT? HE KNEW ABOUT THIS MEETING. I CALLED HIM FIRST, ACTUALLY. HE SAID HE WAS ‘DEALING WITH A FAMILY EMERGENCY’ AND COULDN’T COME.”

A COLD DREAD RETURNED, THIS TIME DIRECTED AT GREGORY. FAMILY EMERGENCY? SENDING ME AWAY TO HIS MOTHER’S, KNOWING THE SELLERS WERE COMING? IT FELT… CALCULATED.

JUST THEN, GREGORY WALKED IN, LOOKING CONCERNED. “WHAT’S HAPPENING? CHLOE CALLED ME, SAID THE SELLERS WERE HERE… IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?” HE LOOKED FROM ME TO CHLOE, HIS EYES A LITTLE TOO WIDE, A LITTLE TOO INNOCENT.

I STARED AT HIM, THE BAKED PASTA SUDDENLY FEELING HEAVY AND COLD IN MY HANDS. “EVERYTHING IS ‘ALRIGHT’ THANKS TO CHLOE,” I SAID, MY VOICE HARD. “THE SELLERS TRIED TO PULL A FAST ONE. BUT YOU KNEW THAT, DIDN’T YOU, GREGORY? YOU KNEW THEY WERE COMING. YOU KNEW ALL ALONG. AND YOU SENT ME AWAY. TO YOUR MOTHER’S.”

GREGORY’S FACE PALE. HE OPENED HIS MOUTH TO SPEAK, BUT NO WORDS CAME OUT. THE SILENCE IN THE LIVING ROOM WAS THICK WITH UNSAID ACCUSATIONS AND SUDDEN, BITTER UNDERSTANDING. THE BAKED PASTA, MEANT AS A GESTURE OF GOODWILL TO HIS MOTHER, NOW FELT LIKE A SYMBOL OF MY OWN NAIVETY, A DISTRACTION CAREFULLY ORCHESTRATED. THE SIGNIFICANT ACHIEVEMENT OF PURCHASING OUR DWELLING NOW FELT TAINTED, SHADOWED BY THE UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTH THAT WAS BEGINNING TO UNFOLD – A TRUTH THAT POINTED DIRECTLY AT THE MAN I WAS ABOUT TO SHARE IT WITH.