Chapter 12 - THE VOICE IN THE RECORDING
Clare’s demand named a number large enough to make June sit down.
Millions.
Lost financing.
Contract interference.
Damage to reputation.
“I own a building,” I said.
“Apparently, refusing to hand it over is a crime now.”
Naomi read the letter.
“It’s a demand. It isn’t a judgment.”
“What do we do?”
“We answer it. Then we keep working.”
The following morning, Mrs. Ortiz called.
Two tenants had received offers of immediate cash if they signed agreements to leave.
One had been told I was losing Mercer House anyway.
“I thought you should know,” she said.
“You absolutely should have.”
I went over with June.
We asked tenants to bring any letters or messages to the bakery.
No one had to sign anything that day.
No one had to tell us private financial information.
I just wanted them to hear me say, in person, that I had not sold their homes.
Clare arrived halfway through the meeting.
She stopped inside the bakery and looked around at the folding chairs.
“This is inappropriate.”
Mr. Russo put down his tray.
“It’s my bakery.”
Clare turned to me.
“You’re frightening people with incomplete information.”
Mrs. Ortiz stood.
“You sent me a notice saying I had to leave.”
“It outlined a potential transition.”
“It had a date.”
Clare’s mouth tightened.
“Willa, we need to speak privately.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You don’t understand what you’re costing.”
“I understand what you tried to take.”
“You signed.”
“A summary page.”
“You should have read more carefully.”
The bakery went silent.
That sentence landed harder than shouting would have.
I took out my phone.
“Please send anything else through Naomi.”
Clare looked at it.
Then at the tenants.
She left without another word.
An hour later, Graham’s attorney sent Naomi a voicemail.
Clare had left it for Graham the week before their divorce became final.
He had retained it because she discussed obligations that affected their settlement.
Her voice was sharp.
Adrien promised he’d get her signature. She doesn’t care about that building enough to fight him. Once the money lands, he gets his advance back and we close.
I sat motionless while it played.
Then she said something else.
If she causes trouble, we remind her who paid to keep her father alive.
Naomi stopped the recording.
I looked at her.
“Send it wherever it legally needs to go.”
Then my phone rang.
May you like
Adrien.
This time, I answered.
