Foreclosure: A Novel (13 page)

“The bill for the appeal was larger than I expected.”

“And all that money you paid for that bond could have gone toward getting your house back.”

“I still expect to win the appeal. But that’s not what I want to talk about.” Ed cleared his throat. “Can we meet in person?”

David checked the clock and considered how this day would only drag on waiting for Frank to call him back and, now, for his quasi-date with Beth. “Ed, you caught me at a good time. How about lunch?”

Maybe it was the fluorescent glow of the tiny yellow and brown tiles lining the wall next to their booth, but David realized that he was staring at crevices in Ed’s complexion that he’d never noticed before. Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d sat at this distance from Ed. He’d been directly across from him nearly a year ago when he took his and Wanda Savage’s depositions; likewise for the mediation they attended a few months before trial. Still, David had never noticed the cavernous scars dotting Ed’s face.

“This is the last place I’d expect a lawyer to eat lunch,” Ed said as he spread an artificial buttery spread over his waffle. “We like to eat here on vacations sometimes.”

David stirred a sugar in his coffee. “You should know by now, Ed, I’m not your typical lawyer.”

“No offense, but you’re all crooks in my book.” Ed stuffed his mouth with waffle, now drenched in syrup. “I ever tell you my old man wanted me to be a lawyer?”

David shook his head and cut into a slice of ham, the only thing on his plate. “Nope. In fact, you never told me you had an old man.”

“He paid my way through ’Bama. First guy in his family to go to college.”

“He must have been proud.”

“He never quite got over me enlisting after I graduated. ‘Why the hell you want to fight in Vietnam? I paid for college so you wouldn’t have to go.’ He wanted to brag about his son the lawyer.”

David vaguely remembered hearing some iteration of these facts during Ed’s deposition, or was it his trial testimony? He decided to play along. “So why did you?”

“I wanted to serve my country. I really did. I wasn’t making that up for the jury.” Ed took another bite. “So what about your old man? I never heard you talk about him.”

“Not much to talk about.”

“He happy you’re a lawyer?” Ed asked.

“He doesn’t know.”

“You don’t talk?”

“He died before I finished high school.”

Ed lowered his head and tightened his upper lip. “I’m sorry. Did—”

“Don’t worry about it. Now that we got our family trees mapped out, why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Ed set down his fork. “I think you know what’s on my mind. What’s always on my mind.”

“Ed, when are you going to put a serious offer on the table? To be honest—and I know you think I’m incapable of that, and perhaps rightly so—but in all honesty, my client’s growing weary of dealing with you.”

“I don’t think that mortgage should be enforceable. Not with what I’ve learned about equity through all this. I’ll take my chances with the appeal. Your hands are as dirty as they come.”

“You mean my client’s.”

Ed shrugged. “Same difference.”

David waved for the waitress and asked for the check. Then to Ed, “I’m putting on my objective hat here, Ed, and I’m not trying to persuade you. But if you were my client, I’d tell you your chances of winning that appeal are about zilch.”

“I don’t care.”

“Your main defense has been rejected in every state that has decided the issue.”

“Maybe Florida will be different.”

“If it is, then every homeowner who claims they were duped by the housing crash will get a free ride.”

“And maybe we should.”

“It’s not going to happen. And I have to believe Joe told you that.”

“It’s not our only defense.” Then, a childlike frustration seemed to grip Ed, and his eyes turned red. David had seen this face many times too, from this man too stubborn to concede to reality. But Ed wouldn’t give up. “Say your client takes the house or sells it at the foreclosure sale. I’ve talked to realtor after realtor, and they all say the same thing: my house is worth five or six hundred grand now, tops. And that amount of money seems much more doable.”

“I might be able to get some interest waived, but you’re going to have to pay the amount of the judgment to stay in the house.”

“I don’t understand that.”

“It’s a matter of principle to the bank. You’ve dragged this out and made them spend money they’re never going to get back. So they’ll insist on the full amount.”

Just as the waitress returned with the check, Ed slammed his fist on the table, shaking their plates and knocking his fork off the table. “Fuck your bank!”

The waitress let out a muted shriek, dropped the check, and rushed off.

Ed rubbed his brow. “If only I had saved that damn email. I know he sent it. I know it exists.”

David recalled Blake handing him the last copy of the email on New Year’s Eve. “That’s the way the ball bounces sometimes.”

“You talk about it like it’s a game or something. It’s our lives.”

David sighed, and nodded
I’m
sorry
to the waitress. “So, Ed, how’s Mrs. Savage?”

Ed looked David in the eyes. “She said she’s found God. Said she don’t even care about the house anymore. Whatever the Lord wills.”

“Whatever helps her sleep, I guess. What do you say?”

“I say I want my damn house. She said it’s going to kill me.”

“She has a point. You look rough.”

Ed shook his head. “I don’t think so. I say it’s more likely to kill you.”

“There you go again, Ed. I treat you to lunch. You treat me to death threats.”

“I’m sober today,” Ed said.

“Me too.”

“I made myself sober to meet you. Last few hearings, I wasn’t sober. If you see me again, and I’ve been drinking, you should just leave.”

David picked up the check. “How about I pick up the tab, and you promise you’ll refrain from trying to kill me?”

Ed chewed his food and focused his gaze right on David’s eyes. He slowly shook his head. “No promises.”

David floored the Saab out of the Waffle House parking lot and headed south toward downtown. The prospect of returning to the office to wait for Frank’s call did not sit well, so he called Katherine on his BlackBerry.

“Any update?” he asked.

“He got back about an hour ago,” she answered.

“I’m on my way.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll leave you out of it.”

She was hesitant. “In that case, come by my office first.”

David parked the Saab along the curb outside Katherine’s office, right behind a black Acura parked in a spot reserved for customers. He figured Katherine was meeting with another bargain hunter who was likely to pass on inflated prices. Frankly, David was beginning to doubt whether Katherine was a very good salesperson, and he’d rather not see her strike out. After waiting what seemed five minutes, he decided maybe she was making progress after all. So, he entered the sales office but saw no one. “Hello?”

He heard the faint sound of conversation in another room. He called for her again. Finally, shadows emerged from the rear hallway. A man appeared in the office, followed by Katherine. He spotted David, and then said something to Katherine. She covered her mouth so David couldn’t see her response. The man got closer, and David recognized him: the same Dick Butkus who’d been pestering Katherine on New Year’s. David got another look at his gray and blue eye and nodded. This time, the linebacker avoided eye contact.

After he was gone, David cornered Katherine. “Something tells me he’s not buying a condo.”

She stood still, trying to regain her composure. Fear welled in her eyes. “I need you to promise me you won’t mention him to Frank.”

“Why don’t you tell me who he is already?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Where is Frank? You said he was back.”

“I lied, David. I needed to talk to you. And not on the phone.”

Katherine strode to her desk and pulled open the top drawer. “I received this today.” She handed a document to David.

He skimmed it and looked up. “It’s a forbearance agreement. It means they won’t foreclose if Frank signs this and makes payments to catch up the debt. Who sent this to you?”

Katherine leaned over and clicked open an email. “This guy. He’s the loan specialist we’ve worked with since before construction.”

David scanned the email. He saw that Justin Baxter was copied on the email. “Have you read the agreement?”

“Of course I have. I don’t think we can sign it.”

David started from the beginning of the agreement and read it carefully. “Why not?”

“First of all, the prices aren’t low enough. We’d have to sell the units at 2005 prices just to get the bank’s mortgage released on each one. They know we can’t do that.”

“Anything else?” David asked.

“Yeah, the escrow deposits. We have to represent the precise amounts of the escrows and where they are located. Why would they want us to do that?”

“For one thing, those deposits are part of their collateral. For another, I’m sure they’ve seen some of the allegations in the lawsuits with the purchasers. They’re probably just looking for some assurance. What do you know about the escrow deposits?”

“Just what you know. That it’s a touchy subject with Frank.”

He sensed Katherine wasn’t telling all she knew. “You know where they’re held?”

“I just know a company called Xerxes Capital is supposed to be holding about ten million dollars. Frank handles the rest.”

David closed the agreement and handed it back to Katherine. “Frank can’t sign this.”

Katherine sighed and returned the agreement to the desk drawer. “I don’t get it. Why would he even consider it? This place is supposed to be his pride and joy. Instead, it’s like he’s ready to turn it over to the bank.”

“He might not have a choice.”

“Do you think we do?”

“I think we can handle it better than we are.”

“Will you talk to Frank about it?”

David nodded. “Tell me when he’s back.”

There was still fear in her eyes—fear that David doubted was caused by the thought of Meridian Bank foreclosing. “I will,” she said.

David returned to his car and saw a missed call on the BlackBerry. He smiled when he saw the number. He dialed it back.

“I saw I missed your call,” he said when Beth answered.

“Pick me up at six thirty. And please—”

“God forbid you be a little late.”

“Some people appreciate punctuality.”

“Beth?” David said.

“Yes?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

She paused. “Please don’t be late,” she said before hanging up.

He found Beth’s address and pulled into a driveway outside a small stucco home in a suburb ten minutes north of downtown. Not the kind of place he would’ve imagined Beth—or any lawyer under forty—would live. He double-checked the address and confirmed it was the right one. As soon as he hopped out of the car, Beth rushed out of the house with her head down. She wore the same kind of dark business suit David pictured her wearing to work at the DOJ.

“What’s the rush?” he asked.

“You’re late.” She pulled on the passenger door but it was locked.

“We’ll be there at ten after seven. We’ll probably beat the judge.”

David turned to unlock the door and accidentally bumped his head on hers.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked.

“Just a little.”

“Please promise me you won’t overdo it tonight.”

“We haven’t gone out in nine years. Please promise me you don’t doubt me. I’m older and wiser now.”

Her hue reddened. “Why’d you have to drink already?”

“I was nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

He did his best to blush. “Spending time with you.” Then he opened the door, not quite enough for her to get in the car, and stared at her. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

“What?” She took a small step back.

“I’m going to kiss you tonight.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I just want to get that out there. I don’t know when or how.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

He stepped in front of her. “I guess I could just get it over with now.”

“Sorry, David, but I have a bad cold. It’s very contagious.”

“I never get sick.”

“Plus, you have bad breath. Very bad breath.” She fanned the air, ducked under and through David’s arms, and fell into the passenger seat.

He pushed the door shut behind her. Then he cupped his hand over his mouth, blew a deep breath, and inhaled a whiff. He smelled nothing but jasmine blooming in the humid evening air and reclaimed water fueling the nearby sprinklers.

Half an hour later he followed her through the crowd of stately and self-important people. After a few minutes he realized he didn’t really know anyone here, likely because he was neither stately nor important.

“So why me?” he asked her.

The question seemed to catch her off guard. “Why you what?”

“Why’d you ask me to come tonight? Why not someone from work, or a guy from a bar.”

“Because I didn’t want to go with a guy from work, and I don’t go to bars.”

He took her hand and held it. “What do you think about that?”

She tugged her hand, not nearly hard enough to free it. “It’s okay.”

“Does this embarrass you?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Do you like it at all?”

“A little.” Then she yanked her hand away. “What are we, in high school?”

“Did you like high school?”

“Didn’t we have this conversation in law school?”

“Probably,” David said, grinning at a passerby who threw him a fake smile. Then he realized Beth was smiling too, and she was about ready to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I just remembered we did have this conversation in law school. You told me about your experience at the prom.” There was no holding back the laughter now. “Your first experience with E-D.”

“Quiet,” David said, looking in every direction. “I made that up so you’d trust me.”

Beth covered her mouth and tried to smile politely.

“Come on, Beth. You ever know me to have a problem with that?”