Chapter 15: Whose Signature

A man in a navy blazer was standing on my porch at ten.

He held a tablet in one hand and a sign on a stake in the other.

"Ms. Halvorsen? I'm with the listing agency. We're putting your house on the market today."

I had slept for two hours on Gabe's couch and driven home in yesterday's clothes.

"Say that again," I said.

"Your listing agreement is signed. Mr. Prescott said you wanted a fast sale." He tipped the tablet toward me. "Here's your signature."

It was my signature.

It was the loop of the B and the flat tail on the h, pasted into a box at the bottom of the page.

"I didn't sign that," I said.

"It's dated Friday."

"On Friday I was at my school all day, and nobody asked me to sign anything."

The agent looked at the page again.

I held up my phone and showed him my driver's license beside the deed.

"The house has two owners," I said. "One of them did not agree to this. Do you know what you call a sale that one owner signs for the other?"

His face went through three expressions.

"I'd call it a problem," he said.

"Give me the name of whoever sent you the scan."

"Mr. Prescott emailed it. He said it came off your mortgage papers."

It had.

I had signed those papers on a kitchen counter two years ago, in blue pen, while Colby poured wine.

The agent pulled the sign out of the grass himself.

"I'm withdrawing the listing," he said. "I'll put it in writing today, and I'll send you every email."

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Gave My Room to Her, So I Took My Life Back from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.