PART 2
His hands shook a little as he unfolded the page all the way. My parents stood close behind him in the empty kitchen, the three of them surrounded by bare walls and silence. The house no longer smelled like coffee or laundry soap or the lemon cleaner I used every Saturday morning.
It smelled like dust.
Jason cleared his throat and began to read.
“Dear Jason,” he said. “About the house.”
He stopped and looked around again, as if the words might somehow explain the emptiness.
My father frowned.
“Well? Keep reading.”
Jason swallowed.
“Before you start repainting the place, there are a few things you should know.”
My mother pressed a hand to her chest.
“Frank…”
Jason continued.
“The contract you brought me transferred my ownership interest in the property. That part is true.”
My father nodded stiffly.
“Of course it did.”
Jason read on.
“But what you may not have realized is that I only owned half of the house.”
Silence.
The kind of silence that falls right before a summer storm finally breaks.
Jason blinked.
“What?”
My father stepped forward.
“Read the rest.”
Jason kept going, but now his voice wavered.
“The other half of the house was legally owned by Daniel through the refinancing and deed paperwork we signed last year.”
My father’s face went pale.
“That’s not possible,” he muttered.
Jason read the next line.
“Yesterday afternoon, Daniel finalized the sale of his half of the property.”
My mother grabbed the edge of the counter.
“Sold it to who?”
Jason looked down again.
“To a property investment company based in Cincinnati.”
My father snatched the letter out of Jason’s hands.
“Let me see that.”
He read the next paragraph himself, his mouth tightening with every word.
“The company will be contacting you shortly to discuss the terms of shared ownership. According to Ohio law, they now have the right to request either a buyout or a full partition sale of the property.”
Jason stared at him.
“Wait. What does that mean?”
My father looked up slowly.
“It means,” he said through clenched teeth, “you do not own the house.”
Jason laughed once, thin and nervous.
“Sure I do. Emily signed it over.”
“Half of it,” my father snapped.
My mother sank into one of the kitchen chairs, the only piece of furniture left in the house.
“But why would she do this?” she asked weakly.
Jason rubbed both hands over his face.
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
My father flipped the page over and kept reading.
“By the time you receive this letter, Daniel and I will be on the road. We’ve decided to start our life somewhere else.”
He slammed the letter down on the counter.
“That ungrateful girl.”
Jason paced the empty living room.
“So what now?”
“We talk to the company,” he said. “We buy their half.”
My father hesitated.
“How much money do you have, Jason?”
Jason stopped moving.
“Well, none right now, but once the business starts—”
My father cut him off.
“Exactly.”
My mother looked up, shaken.
“Frank, surely there’s some way to fix this.”
At that exact moment, Jason’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end sounded cheerful, polished, professional.
“Good morning. Is this Mr. Jason Carter?”
“Yeah.”
“My name is Melissa Grant. I’m calling from Hamilton Property Investments. We recently acquired a partial ownership interest in the property at 118 Oakridge Lane.”
Jason looked around the empty house again.
“That was fast,” he muttered.
My father moved closer, trying to catch every word.
“Yes,” Jason said into the phone. “That’s the house.”
“Wonderful,” the woman replied. “We’d like to discuss the next steps in resolving the shared ownership situation.”
Jason forced a laugh.
“Sure. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
May you like
“Well,” she said pleasantly, “there are two options available under Ohio property law.”
Jason waited.
