Chapter 14 - The Families in the Cottages
Juliette's arrest didn't stop the banks. At eight the following morning, a representative from Northline Holdings posted notices on all twelve cottages along Willow Lane. The signs announced that demolition preparation would begin in forty-eight hours.
I stood in the muddy road wearing shoes Ruth had bought me and a clean coat that didn't itch against my scars. Children watched from windows. Mrs. Alvarez, who had lived in the blue cottage for thirty-one years, opened her door with a dish towel in her hands.
"Your mother promised we could stay," she said.
"She did. And I'm going to fight for that promise."
"They say we aren't your tenants anymore. They say you're dead."
There it was again. The easiest way to erase me was to repeat the word on the certificate.
At the county courthouse, a clerk refused to file my emergency petition under my legal name until Marcus supplied the fingerprint findings and the examiner's sworn statement. Ruth argued. I waited. We lost nearly two hours.
Evan called from his attorney's office. He had found the financing schedule for Northline. The company planned to use the disputed land as collateral for a bridge loan, then transfer it to an out-of-state investment fund before anyone could obtain a final court ruling.
"Can you stop it?" I asked.
"I'm trying. The transfer agent won't answer me, and my own board is saying I shouldn't get involved."
"But you will?"
"I'm not marrying Juliette. That doesn't mean I'm abandoning the people she's hurt."
Marcus secured an emergency hearing for the next morning. He warned that Juliette's attorney would challenge everything: my identity, my memory, even my right to stand in court.
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That afternoon, someone sent me a photograph of Mrs. Alvarez's cottage with its front door hanging open. A message beneath it read: THE OLD WOMAN KNOWS ABOUT THE FIRE. ASK WHAT SHE SAW.
We drove back to Willow Lane. Mrs. Alvarez's house was empty. The kettle was still warm.
