Chapter 2 - The Voicemail That Changed the Temperature
I listened to the messages one by one with my coffee going cold beside me.
The first few were pure outrage.
Michael demanding to know where I was.
Isabella complaining that her parents had waited nearly an hour at baggage claim before getting an Uber.
Then the tone changed.
By call number six, Michael sounded panicked.
“Dad, call me back. The mortgage payment didn’t clear.”
Call number seven came from the unfamiliar number.
“Mr. Holloway, this is Karen Dempsey with Inland Northwest Lending. We need to verify some information related to an application connected to the Pine Ridge property. Please return my call as soon as possible.”
I played that one twice.
An application?
Pine Ridge was the address of Michael’s house.
The house I had helped him buy after Maria died.
The house I believed he and Isabella owned with me quietly carrying the mortgage when their income came up short.
By the time I reached message eleven, Isabella was crying.
“They’re saying we may have a problem if the payment is late again. Dad, just call us. Please.”
That “Dad” was new.
She only used it when she needed something.
Michael’s final voicemail was the only honest one.
“If this is because of Christmas, you’re going too far.”
I set the phone down and stared at the wall for a long time.
He still thought this was punishment.
He still didn’t understand it was arithmetic.
At ten o’clock I called Karen Dempsey back.
“Mr. Holloway,” she said carefully, “before I discuss anything, I need to verify that you submitted a request for a home equity line of credit tied to the Pine Ridge property.”
I said no.
Silence.
May you like
Then a softer voice:
“In that case, sir, you need to come in.”
