Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
David Vance watched the ink dry on the third copy before he gathered the pages into his leather portfolio. He zipped the case closed with a single, sharp motion.
“The filing will be recorded at the courthouse on Broad Street by nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” David said, standing up.
I stood with him, leaving the Webbs sitting at the long mahogany conference table under the fluorescent lights.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind us, the brass latch catching with a solid, metallic sound that seemed to mark the end of the meeting.
The hallway outside Fletcher’s office was carpeted in a dull grey wool that muffled our footsteps. The walls were lined with framed prints of old Richmond landmarks, their glass faces reflecting the dim yellow light of the ceiling fixtures.
“I will go straight to the clerk’s office first thing in the morning,” David said, slowing his pace as we approached the elevators. “The deed is clean, Clare. The chain of title will be fully restored once this is recorded.”
“Thank you, David,” I said. “For everything.”
