Chapter 3:
The One Thing They Forgot
I drove straight to my father’s house.
Ed listened to the whole thing without a word, then went to his filing cabinet and pulled out the folder we’d kept since the closing — the deed, the title, the record of every mortgage payment drawn from my account.
“They forgot to check, didn’t they,” he said. Not a question.
“They never even thought to.”
“Then let’s make an appointment with a lawyer,” he said, “and let them keep packing.”
That was the part I enjoyed more than I should admit.
I let them pack.
For three more days, Sharon boxed up my china and measured my windows for her curtains, and I said nothing, and Jarrod told everyone at his office that his wife was “finally being reasonable.”
Meanwhile, my lawyer confirmed in writing what my father already knew.
I owned the house outright. Jarrod’s name appeared
