Chapter 12: Friday's Deadline

A black SUV turned into the driveway and parked across the front steps, so nobody could leave by the car.

Dean got out of the passenger side.

His wrist was wrapped in a brace.

Two men climbed out of the back, both in dark coats, both bigger than Timothy, neither in a hurry.

Timothy stepped out of the garage and stood beside me.

Kristen stayed behind us, holding the garage door's edge in both hands.

"Mer," Dean said, spreading his good hand. "Great. Everybody's here. Let's all be adults."

"Who are they?"

"Friends. Professionals. They want to talk about the house."

"What about it?"

The older of the two men looked at the front of the house, up to the roofline and back down.

He had a flat, tired face and a gold watch.

"Mr. Ellery says he owns this property," he said, "and that it secures a debt of one million five hundred thousand dollars."

I looked at Dean.

"You put my house up as collateral."

"I told him the house was ours," Dean said. "It is. I mean, it's in your name, but that's a technicality, Mer, and you'll cover it. You always do."

"You pledged a house with my name on the deed, without telling me."

"It's family money!"

"It's a million five."

"It's your company, you make that in a quarter!"

The younger man shifted his weight.

"Mrs. Ellery," the older one said, politely. "We don't care whose house it is. We care that we're paid by Friday."

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