Chapter 4 - WHAT CALLUM SIGNED
Deline left before I could force an explanation out of her.
She walked down the porch steps, climbed into the SUV, and disappeared into the snow.
Callum remained in the hallway.
Renley had gone back upstairs after I promised her everything was okay.
It was not okay.
I locked the door.
“What did you sign?”
Callum sat in the living room.
For the first time since Thanksgiving, he looked less like a frightened husband and more like a man who had been carrying something heavy for years.
“The cabin loan.”
“What about it?”
“My name is on a separate indemnity agreement.”
I waited.
He looked at his hands.
“Deline and Mason couldn’t qualify for the renovation financing by themselves.”
“So you cosigned.”
“Yes.”
“Using our house.”
“Not exactly.”
I felt my pulse rise.
“That phrase has stopped comforting me.”
He nodded.
“The agreement says if the cabin collateral falls below a certain value, the lender can pursue additional pledged assets.”
“Our house.”
“Potentially.”
“You told me the form I signed was related to insurance.”
“I know.”
“You knew it involved financing.”
“Yes.”
The grandfather clock in our own hallway ticked behind us.
Suddenly I was back in his mother’s living room.
Renley’s frightened face.
His silence.
I understood then that Thanksgiving had not created the fracture in our marriage.
It had illuminated it.
“How much?”
“About two hundred and eighty thousand originally.”
I stared at him.
“Originally?”
“The renovation went over budget.”
“How much now?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
“Callum.”
“Three hundred and sixty-two.”
I stood so fast the coffee table shook.
“You exposed our home to more than three hundred thousand dollars of your sister’s debt?”
“They’ve made payments.”
“That is not the question.”
“I thought the cabin would appreciate.”
“That is not the question.”
“I thought Deline’s shop would stabilize.”
“That is not the question.”
My voice finally cracked.
“How could you gamble Renley’s home to keep your sister happy?”
He stood too.
“I was trying to help my family.”
“We are your family.”
The words echoed through the room.
Callum looked toward the stairs.
I saw the moment they reached him.
Not because I had said them before.
I had.
But perhaps for the first time, he understood that choosing not to choose had always been a choice.
“I can fix this,” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Then I picked up my phone.
“From this point forward, you do not fix anything involving my signature.”
“Evelyn—”
“You give me every document.”
“Every password.”
“Every email.”
“Every account.”
May you like
“And tomorrow, I am speaking to an attorney who does not share a holiday table with your family.”
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