Chapter 8 - THE AUCTION ON ELMCREST
Six weeks later.
The November rain had turned the trees along Elmcrest Lane into bare, dark silhouettes.
A large yellow sign stood on the front lawn of 1428 Elmcrest Lane:
PUBLIC FORECLOSURE AUCTION — BY ORDER OF THE COUNTY SHERIFF.
Dozens of local real estate investors, neighbors, and curious onlookers gathered on the driveway under black umbrellas.
I stood near the back of the crowd, wearing a sleek black wool coat, holding a warm cup of coffee. Standing beside me was Rosalind Mercer and Marcus Vance.
Jolene sat on a plastic folding chair near the garage, surrounded by four mismatched cardboard boxes containing the few personal clothes she’d been allowed to keep. She looked hollow, her designer makeup gone, wearing a cheap coat she’d bought at a thrift store.
She had tried to stay with friends, but once word got out that she had zero money and a pending indictment as an unindicted co-conspirator in her mother’s fraud, her "luxury networking" friends had blocked her number.
The sheriff stood on the porch, holding an auction ledger.
“Opening bid for 1428 Elmcrest Lane,” the sheriff announced through a megaphone. “Starting at $180,000 to cover the outstanding mortgage debt and bank liens!”
An investor near the front raised his hand. “$190,000!”
“$200,000!” another called out.
“$210,000!”
I looked at Marcus Vance. He gave me a sharp, subtle nod.
I raised my gloved hand.
“$260,000,” I called out, my clear, strong voice ringing over the crowd.
The crowd turned around, whispering frantically as they recognized the daughter who had been bleeding on that carpet six weeks ago.
Jolene snapped her head up, her eyes wide with absolute, horrifying disbelief.
“$260,000 going once...” the sheriff called out, looking around the driveway. “Going twice...”
BANG.
“Sold to the young lady in the black coat for $260,000!”
I pulled out my checkbook, backed by the initial restitution settlement Marcus had secured from my father’s recovered trust assets, and walked up to the sheriff’s table to sign the master deed.
Jolene scrambled off her folding chair, rushing over to me, tears streaming down her pale face.
“Mave!” Jolene sobbed, clutching her hands together. “You bought the house?! Oh my God, thank you! Thank you! I knew you wouldn't let us lose our childhood home! Can I move my boxes back inside? I have nowhere to sleep tonight!”
I finished signing the deed, handed the pen back to the sheriff, and looked at my older sister.
“You’re not moving anywhere, Jolene,” I said calmly.
Jolene froze. “What?”
“I bought the house to demolish it,” I informed her, my voice dropping into a register of cool, unyielding finality. “I sold the land to the city this morning. They’re turning this lot into a community park named after Dad.”
Jolene stared at me as if I had struck her across the face.
May you like
“You... you bought our house just to destroy it?!” she shrieked.
“I bought it to erase the cage,” I corrected her. “You have thirty minutes to clear your four boxes off my land before the demolition crew arrives.”
