Page 12 of Lost Love Cove
“Mr. Parker, this property is still in probate under the Winters estate,” The clerk told him apologetically.
The words didn’t land at first. They drifted around his head like sawdust after a cut, too light to register. Then the meaning hit, hard enough to hollow his chest.
“Probate?” His voice came out rough. “That doesn’t make sense. I bought the place outright. I have the deed.” He held the document up.
The clerk held out his hand. Matt slid the papers across the counter. His hands were steady, but inside, his pulse felt like it belonged to someone else.
The man scanned the documents, lips pressing into a thinner line. He turned back to the monitor and typed again, clickingthrough information on his screen. “Your deed doesn’t match the county’s chain of title. Until the Winters estate is closed, this parcel remains legally tied to it.”
Matt's head spun. The room tilted beneath him like a house with a bad foundation. Two and a half years ago, he'd walked out of these same offices clutching a stamped permit, feeling the weight of ownership in his hand. That first afternoon, standing on the sagging porch ofhishouse, the rotting floorboards creaked beneath his feet, but it was his. His retirement house that he would renovate and rebuild board by board. At that moment, it hadn’t looked like much at all, but he'd known it was his—a goal he’d managed to tick off his and Sherri’s retirement bucket list plan.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry as he thought of all the hours of work he’d spent on that house since then. Every splinter he'd pulled, every beam he'd hauled, every nail he'd driven home in that sea-weathered wood—all of it marked by his sweat and blood and purpose. And now some clerk behind glass was telling him none of it belonged to him?
“So what am I supposed to do?” His voice cut sharper than he meant it to be. Matt knew it wasn’t the clerk’s fault. The man was just doing his job. But still… Matt forced himself to pull back, take a deep mental breath, and try to reason with the man in a calmer manner. “How do I fix it? Who do I talk to?”
“You’ll need to work through probate court, or retain an attorney,” the clerk said evenly. “Until then, we can’t process your permit.”
Matt leaned forward. “There must be some mistake. My previous renovation permits were approved, right here at this office.”
“Who approved them…” The clerk paused, his eyes narrowed, and something flickered across the man’s face. “I see.” He rubbed his chin. “I see you dealt with Ms. Marshall each time you came here?”
It sounded more like an accusation than a question. “Yes.” Matt nodded his brow, knitting tighter together. “Where is Ms. Marshall? Can I talk to her?” He glanced around the office behind the clerk. “My real estate agent advised me to always speak to Ms. Marshall as she got things done.” Irritation spurted through Matt. “I’d like to speak to Ms. Marshall. Clearly, you’re looking at the wrong information.”
The man behind the glass bristled and shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Parker.” He slid Matt’s deed back through the hole at the bottom of the glass partition. “Ms. Marshall no longer works here.”
“What?” Matt hissed. “Did she get fired because she was too efficient?”
“Matt…” Carrie gently touched his arm. “It’s not his fault.” His arm warmed where her soft hand touched him. It momentarily distracted him. She turned to the clerk. “Can we speak to a manager?”
“I am the manager,” the man told them. “As we had to… uh… let Ms. Marshall go, we are short-staffed and I now have to fill in. And all these matters now go through me.”
The room felt smaller. Matt’s hands curled into fists before he forced them flat against the counter. His voice dropped. “So tell me, how do I get this resolved?”
“Contact the company that sold you the property, Mr. Parker,” the clerk said, tone clipped, final. “If they can providedocumentation that clears the chain, we can proceed.” He paused. “But honestly, if I were you, Mr. Parker, I’d get an attorney.”
“Are you threatening me?” Matt hissed, wondering why he’d need an attorney.
“Not at all, Mr. Parker,” the man said, and something flashed in his eyes. “It’s…” He was about to say something, but he stopped himself. “Please know that I’m not trying to antagonize you further, or threaten you in any way.” He paused, picking up the deed and sliding it back toward Matt. “But Ms. Marshall…” His eyes went to the deed again and back to Matt. “Wasn’t asefficientas you think she was.”
What the heck does that mean? Before he could say anything else, Carrie took all the paperwork the man had given back to him. “Thank you,” she said to the man.
“Contact the company you bought the property through,” the man advised. “If you need any help with any deed documents, please contact me.” He slipped a business card onto the counter. “I’m truly sorry this has happened to you.”
Carrie took the card, nodded at the man, and then steered Matt out of the offices. He followed her without protest, his mind reeling. Matt had walked in expecting to just sort out a paperwork glitch or something like that, and then leave with a routine permit, and then get back to working on his house. Instead, he now had a whole different list of problems to sort out and deal with the shock of being told his house might not even be his. Or at least the ground it was built on wasn’t his… Matt’s head started to throb as another realization dawned on him:Is the house part of that lease as well?
Carrie’s voice was low and calm, the kind of tone meant to guide someone back from the edge. “Let’s go across the road to that small park where you can sit and call the property company you bought the house from,” she said, giving him a soft smile, but he could see the worry in her eyes. “I’m sure it’s just paperwork.”
Matt pressed his lips together and gave a short nod. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more.
They stepped outside. The heat hit him in a wave, thick and immediate. He let the door swing shut behind them and stood a moment on the steps, staring at the street without seeing it.
“Come on,” Carrie said, pulling him across the street and leading him to a park bench beneath a tree. “Sit and call them.” Her head turned. “I’ll go get us a coffee and give you some space while you talk to them.”
“Thanks,” he said, the word rasping out of him.
She walked away, purposeful, shoulders straight, and even through all the shock, his skin still tingled from her touch, and Matt felt strangely alone as she left. He dragged his eyes away from Carrie and pulled his phone from his pocket before sinking onto the bench, ignoring the way the wood scorched through his jeans. He found the company's number and pressed the call button, his thumb almost too heavy on the screen.
One ring. Two. His jaw ached.
