Page 16 of The Auction
Wedged behind a half-empty bag of rye, is a stack of unopened envelopes. The one on top I recognize. The results from my doctor’s exam.
The other’s, the return address readsDelancey Mortgage Services.
My stomach drops.
We don’thavea mortgage.
This house—this land—was paid off decades ago. Dad built it from the ground up for my mom after they got married. She sketched the dream on a napkin in a diner booth—the wraparound porch, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the pasture, a kitchen big enough to feed half the county and smell like cinnamon every morning.
And he made it real. Poured the foundation with his own hands. Framed the bones of the house like it was a living thing, meant to hold generations of Hayes’.
I glance at the framed napkin on the wall. It still hangs under the photo of Mom and Dad in his truck, both of them grinning like love-struck fools.
Mom hasn’t smiled like that in years.
With shaking hands, I pull the envelopes free, and rip open the first. Then, the second. By the time I get to the third, I can’t feel my hands.
Notice of Default.
Notice of Intent to Foreclose.
Property Scheduled for Public Auction – Friday at 9:00 AM.
Oh my God.
I flip through the papers like if I move fast enough, the words will change. Like I’ll find some fine print that makes it all go away. But it’s there in black and white, over and over again.
This house.Ourhouse. It’s going to be taken. Sold. Stripped from us like it was never ours to begin with.
The horses.
I can’t breathe.
What will we do with the horses?
“Cassidy?” Shanae’s voice is soft behind me.
I don’t respond. I can’t. The walls feel like they’re pressing in. My vision swims.
“Cass?” she asks again, gentler now. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say too fast. My voice cracks halfway through the lie. “Just… just mail.”
She knows it’s bullshit but she doesn’t press.
I force a tight smile, press the papers flat, and slide them back into the envelopes.
“I’m gonna see how Jonathan’s packing is coming along,” I say, my voice robotic.
Shanae watches me, but she doesn’t stop me.
Jonathan took over everything after Dad died. The business, the finances, the estate. We never talked about it. I didn’t thinkwe had to. I always thought—no,trusted—that he’d honor what this house meant. That he’d protect it, protect Mom.
And now I know the truth.
He’s been hiding this. Letting it all collapse.
And I don’t know what hurts more—the betrayal or the realization that, maybe, I never should have trusted him to begin with.
