Grant looked at it.
“I expected Mrs. Grant to discuss authorization with her husband.”
“Why write ‘handle signature’?”
“Informal phrasing.”
“Did you ever ask Michael directly?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Lauren was the investment contact.”
“Did you know the house was separately titled?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she lacked authority to encumber it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why place it in collateral schedules?”
“Preliminary underwriting.”
I finally spoke.
“You’re very good at making verbs disappear.”
Grant looked at me.
“What?”
“Everything happens by itself.”
I pointed.
“House gets listed.”
“Documents get submitted.”
“Signature gets handled.”
“Who actually does anything in your business?”
His attorney interrupted.
“Michael.”
I raised a hand.
“No threats.”
“No accusations.”
“Just a question.”
Grant leaned back.
“Lauren told me you would come around.”
“Did she?”
He hesitated.
That mattered.
“I believed she could persuade you.”
“That's different.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Lauren, who sat with her own attorney two chairs away.
She stared at Grant.
“Did I ever tell you I could get Michael’s signature without explaining the full deal?”
Grant said nothing.
Lauren’s face changed.
“Answer.”
He looked toward his attorney.
The attorney quietly said:
“Answer only if you’re comfortable.”
Grant almost smiled.
“That's legal language for don't.”
Lauren stared.
“You used me.”
Grant laughed once.
“I used you?”
She flinched.
He continued.
“You told me you wanted out of your marriage.”
“You wanted this investment.”
“You wanted it too.”
“You said it was nearly funded.”
“You were the one giving me his financial information.”
Silence.
They looked at each other.
For months, each had told themselves the other was the dishonest person who somehow made their own dishonesty reasonable.
Now neither could hide behind romance.
I watched them realize it.
Grant said quietly:
“You told me Michael barely paid attention.”
Lauren's eyes filled.
“I told you what I needed to believe.”
That might have been the most honest sentence of the meeting.
CHAPTER 7: WHAT MY BROTHER SOLD
Chris lost his consulting role on Riverstone.
Grant stopped returning his calls.
That did not make me feel better.
My mother called.
“Talk to your brother.”
“No.”
“He made a mistake.”
“He made several.”
“He’s devastated.”
“So am I.”
“He didn't sleep with Lauren.”
I laughed.
The bar for family loyalty had apparently fallen below adultery.
“No, Mom.”
“He didn’t.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
My mother sighed.
“Your father would hate this.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“Dad would have told me.”
Silence.
She knew.
Our father had been difficult.
Rigid.
Sometimes harsh.
But loyalty was religion to him.
If he knew somebody was hurting family, he did not remain neutral.
Chris did.
Not because he wanted me destroyed.
Because telling me was inconvenient.
That distinction stopped mattering after enough damage.
Two months after discovery, Chris came to my office without calling.
He looked worse.
Weight lost.
Beard uneven.
“I paid back the eighteen-five.”
“What?”
“The fee.”
“To who?”
“Escrow account.”