“Can you send me the complete lease file?”
“Certainly.”
“And I want a current inspection of the roof, the electrical system, and both garage bays.”
“Is there a particular reason?”
“Because I want to know exactly what I own.”
That afternoon, I drove past the building.
The old brick was still handsome.
The sign above the garage doors still said RANCE’S TIRE AND AUTO.
There were three cars waiting outside.
A young mechanic was carrying a tire toward the back bay.
Rance was standing near the office window.
He saw my car.
For a second, we looked at each other.
Then he turned away.
I drove home.
I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt tired.
Because owning the building was one thing.
Dealing with the man inside it was another.
And I had a feeling Rance wasn’t finished.
PART 4: THE ENVELOPE FROM THE LAWYER
On Tuesday, an envelope arrived.
It wasn’t a bill.
It wasn’t a birthday card.
It was from Rance’s attorney.
I opened it standing beside my kitchen counter.
The letter said Rance believed the building had been improperly transferred during the divorce.
He was requesting copies of the original settlement, property records, and any documents showing how the ownership company had been established.
I read it twice.
Then I called my lawyer, Martin.
He had handled the divorce nine years earlier.
He answered with his usual cheerful voice.
“Kaci! How’s retirement treating you?”
“I’m not retired yet.”
“Still counting mailboxes?”
“Still counting mailboxes.”
I explained the letter.
He became quiet.
Then he asked me to send him a copy.
Twenty minutes later, he called back.
“He’s got no case based on what you’ve told me.”
“That’s what Jessie said.”
“Your divorce agreement clearly transferred the building and the associated debt to you. You assumed the mortgage. You paid it. The deed was recorded properly.”
“So what is he trying to do?”
Martin sighed.
“Probably hoping you’ll get nervous and agree to a cheap sale.”
I looked at the letter.
“Can he stop me from keeping the building?”
“Not simply because he regrets the divorce settlement.”
I smiled a little.
“Good.”
“But I want to see the lease and any correspondence from his side.”
“I’ll send everything.”
He paused.
“One more thing, Kaci.”
“What?”
“Don’t negotiate directly with him right now. Let me handle the formal communication.”
I agreed.
That evening, RJ came over.
He brought pizza and a six-pack of soda.
He looked exhausted.
“Mom, Dad called me.”
I put the plates on the table.
“What did he say?”
“He said you were trying to destroy his business.”
I sat down.
“Did he?”
“He said you planned this for years.”
I looked at him.
“RJ, I didn’t plan to own his building. I agreed to take it because your father didn’t want it.”
“Then why didn’t you sell it?”
“Because I couldn’t afford to lose it.”
He frowned.
I explained the mortgage, the rent, the years of payments.
He listened.
When I finished, he shook his head.
“I didn’t know it was that hard.”
“I didn’t want you worrying about it.”
He stared at the pizza.
“He’s telling people you tricked him.”
I took a breath.
“Your father made his own decisions. I didn’t hide the deed. I didn’t forge anything. I didn’t steal his business.”
“I know.”
“Then that’s enough.”
RJ nodded.
We ate quietly.
Before he left, he stopped at the refrigerator.
He saw the retirement statement.
“Mom, did you open it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I smiled.
“I think I can finally take a vacation.”
He grinned.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere with a beach.”
“Florida?”
“Absolutely not. Your aunt lives there.”
He laughed.
Then he hugged me.
After he left, I washed the plates and went to bed.
I thought the worst of it was behind us.
I was wrong.
The next morning, Diane called.
“Rance hasn’t paid his rent.”
I looked at the calendar.
It was the fifth.
“Is it late?”
“Technically, yes. The lease gives him a grace period, but he’s already told me he won’t pay until the ownership issue is resolved.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The next move.
“Send him the standard notice,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
“And Diane?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t treat him differently because he’s my ex-husband.”
She laughed softly.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
PART 5: THE TRUTH ABOUT THE DIVORCE
Two days later, Martin called.
“I found something interesting.”
I was sorting laundry.
“What?”
“Your ex-husband’s attorney has requested a copy of the original mortgage documents.”
“Why?”
“Apparently, Rance claims he was unaware of the amount of debt attached to the building.”
I stopped folding a towel.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, he signed the settlement.”
“His lawyer read it aloud.”
“I know.”
“Martin, he told me to take the building.”
“That’s in the agreement.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Can he really claim he didn’t understand?”
“He can claim anything. Proving it is another matter.”
I thought about that afternoon nine years earlier.
The conference room.
The lawyers.
The coffee that tasted like burnt rubber.
Rance tapping his watch.
“Just sign it, Kace. We both want this over.”
I remembered looking at the debt figure.
Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars.
I remembered thinking about my paycheck.
I remembered the way his lawyer smiled.
And I remembered the words Rance used.
“You wanted to keep the house. I wanted the business. This is fair.”
But I hadn’t wanted the house.
I’d wanted our marriage.
There was a difference.
“Martin,” I said, “what happens if he tries to sue?”
“We respond. We provide the records. We defend your ownership.”
“And the building?”
“Still yours.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you.”
That afternoon, Jessie came over with a folder.
She put it on my kitchen table.
“Everything is here.”
Inside were copies of the recorded deed, the mortgage payoff, the property company’s formation documents, and the original settlement.
I turned the pages slowly.
There it was.
My signature.
Rance’s signature.
The date.
The description of the building.
Everything.
Jessie sat opposite me.
“Do you remember what Grandma used to say?”
I smiled.
“About what?”
“Never give away something you might need later.”
I laughed.
“She also said never buy shoes on sale unless you need them.”
“She was right about both.”
We sat there for a while.
Then Jessie looked at me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why did you keep the building? Really?”
I looked down at the folder.
“Because it was the one thing he thought I couldn’t handle.”
She nodded.
“And I wanted to prove him wrong?”
“Maybe at first.”
I looked out the window.
“But after a while, it wasn’t about him anymore. It was about me. Every payment reminded me I could do something hard. Every year I kept that building, I felt a little less afraid.”
Jessie reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“You did it, Aunt Kace.”
I smiled.
“Yes, I did.”
Then she said something I hadn’t expected.
“There’s another reason you should consider keeping it.”
“What?”
“Main Street is changing. The old pharmacy is being renovated. The empty storefront next door has new owners. There’s talk of a small business district.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Where did you hear that?”
“At the recorder’s office. A lot of commercial deeds have been coming through.”
I looked toward the building.
For nine years, I’d thought of it as a debt I had to survive.
Maybe it could become something else.
Something useful.
Something good.
But first, I had to deal with Rance.
And the following Monday, he finally came to my door.
PART 6: HE CAME TO MY HOUSE
It was just after six in the evening.
I had changed out of my uniform and was making soup.
The doorbell rang.
I wasn’t expecting anybody.
When I opened the door, Rance stood on the porch.
No Vickie.
No lawyer.
Just him.
He looked older than I remembered.
His hair was thinner, his shoulders were rounded, and the expensive jacket he’d worn at my birthday dinner was gone.
“Kace.”
“Rance.”
“Can I come in?”
I stepped aside.
He walked into the kitchen and looked around.
Nothing had changed much.
The same table.
The same curtains.
The same pierogi magnet on the refrigerator.
He noticed the retirement statement.
“You opened it?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then he sat down.
“I need to talk to you about the building.”
I turned off the stove.
“Go ahead.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Business has been slow.”
I didn’t respond.
“Costs are up. Tires are up. Insurance is up. The roof needs work.”
“You knew that when you made the offer.”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t know you owned it.”
I almost smiled.
“That doesn’t change the roof.”
He leaned back.
“Look, Kace. We were married a long time.”
“Nine years ago, you told me that was over.”
“I know.”
“You told me I was cold.”
“I was angry.”
“You told people I had let myself go.”
He looked down.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You shouldn’t.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “I need you to sell me the building.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s where my business is.”
“Then pay the rent.”
“I’ve been paying rent for years.”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head.
