Chapter 6: The Document They Didn't Know She Had
The title search came back in thirty-one hours.
Graham called her on a Wednesday morning, and she could hear in the first two seconds of his voice that it was not nothing.
"There's a second filing," he said.
"Not a notice of interest.
A recorded memorandum of agreement."
Dorothy set down her coffee.
"Explain that to me."
"A memorandum of agreement is a document that, when properly recorded, signals to any future buyer or title company that a prior agreement exists regarding the property.
It doesn't transfer ownership.
But it creates a cloud on the title — meaning the property cannot be cleanly sold or transferred until the memorandum is resolved."
"When was it recorded?"
"November third."
Four days after the weekend.
Four days after she had told Robert and Megan to leave.
"They filed it after I revoked his access," Dorothy said.
"Yes."
"Can they do that?"
"They did do it.
Whether they had the legal right to is the question we're now going to answer very loudly." Graham's voice was controlled but she could hear the edge beneath it.
"The memorandum was signed by Robert, by Patricia Welles on behalf of Coastal Meridian, and by a third signatory."
"Who?"
"A man named Kenneth Marsh.
He's listed as a co-investor."
Dorothy did not recognize the name.
"Is he connected to Megan's family?"
"Her brother," Graham said.
"He lives in Portland.
He has two prior civil judgments against him for breach of contract in real estate transactions."
The room was very quiet.
"So Megan's brother is a co-investor in a scheme to cloud the title on my home."
"That is what the documents show."
Dorothy stood and walked to the window.
The garden.
The bare rose canes.
The sea chest visible through the interior doorway.
"Graham.
Is this fraud?"
"Recording a memorandum of agreement using a signatory who has no ownership interest in the property, with the apparent intent to obstruct a legitimate estate transfer — yes.
I believe a court would find that fraudulent.
I've already contacted a colleague who specializes in real estate fraud.
She's reviewing the documents this afternoon."
"What do I need to do?"
"I'm going to file a motion to expunge the memorandum from the title record.
That's the immediate step.
I'm also going to prepare a formal complaint to the state real estate board regarding Coastal Meridian and Patricia Welles.
And I want your permission to send a preservation letter to Robert — notifying him that all documents, communications, and records related to this property must be retained."
"Send it."
"Dorothy.
I want to be honest with you.
Robert's name is on that memorandum.
That is not a small thing."
She had known it was coming.
She had known since the kitchen table, since the letter of intent, since the moment Robert wouldn't look at her.
But knowing something is coming and having it arrive are different experiences.
"I understand," she said.
"Do you want to speak with him before we proceed?"
She thought about it.
Robert at the window.
*I didn't think it would go this far.*
"No," she said.
"He had the chance to tell me the truth and he didn't.
Whatever comes next, he chose."
Graham was quiet for a moment.
"All right."
"One more thing," Dorothy said.
"Megan's message said Patricia isn't working alone and that there are things about her I don't understand yet.
She said it could help me.
I think she's preparing to offer Patricia up in exchange for protecting herself and Robert."
"That's a reasonable read."
"When she does — and she will — I want to be ready."
"I'll have everything documented before she makes that move," Graham said.
"When she offers information, we'll already have it.
That changes the negotiation entirely."
Dorothy ended the call and stood at the window for a long time.
Then she went to the sea chest beside the bookshelf — Henry's restored sea chest, the one the luggage had been stacked against — and opened it.
Inside, beneath the folded charts and the old tide tables Henry had kept for thirty years, was a manila envelope she had placed there six weeks ago.
Before the weekend.
Before the guests.
Before any of it.
She had found it while clearing out the desk in the back room.
A letter, handwritten, dated two years earlier.
Henry's handwriting.
Addressed to Robert.
She had read it once and put it away because she hadn't known yet what it meant.
She took it out now and read it again.
*Robert — if you're reading this without your mother's knowledge, then something has already gone wrong.
This house is hers.
Not yours yet.
Not Megan's ever.
I want you to remember that I built it for her, not for what comes after.
If she is still living and you are making plans for this place, stop.
Love, Dad.*
Henry had known.
Not everything.
May you like
But enough.
Dorothy folded the letter carefully and put it in her bag.
