The envelope lay among the other correspondence on my kitchen table, white with the blue Fairview National Bank logo. I didn’t notice it at first—I was busy sorting utility bills. Only after finishing my second cup of coffee did I pick it up and twirl it in my hands.
Strange.
I hadn’t done any business with Fairview National. I opened the letter and ran my eyes over the first lines.
A chill ran down my spine. “Dear Mrs.
Toiver, you are reminded of your late monthly mortgage payment.” What followed was an amount that made me dizzy: $7,243.80.
“What the hell is this?” I muttered, reading on. The letter said I was behind on my second monthly payment on a $950,000 mortgage loan made in March. If I didn’t pay the arrears within two weeks, the bank would begin foreclosure proceedings.
My first thought was to call the bank and explain there had been a mistake.
I had never taken out any loan for such an astronomical sum. My little house on Elm Street—purchased with Harold thirty‑two years ago—had long since been paid off.
Why would I, a sixty‑seven‑year‑old widow, take a new loan? I dialed the Fairview National number listed in the letter.
After a long hold, an operator came on the line.
“Hi, this is Wilfred Toiver,” I said. “I received a letter about a late payment on a loan, but there’s some mistake. I didn’t take out any loan from your bank.”
“Just a moment, Mrs.
Toiver.
I’ll check,” the young woman replied. While she studied the data, I looked out the kitchen window at my small but well‑kept garden.
Harold had died ten years ago, and since then I had lived alone in the house, adjusting, slowly, to the life of a widow. Forty‑three years together—and then silence.
No, not empty.
I had children, Harper and Lennox, but they had long since gone on with their own lives, not often thinking of their mother. “Mrs. Toiver?” The operator’s voice brought me back.
“According to our records, on March 14 of this year, you took out a mortgage loan in the amount of $950,000 for a period of thirty years.
The loan was for the purchase of real estate at Lake View Terrace, number 27, in Concord.”
“That’s impossible,” I exclaimed. “I’ve never signed any paperwork for a loan—especially not for that much money.”
“We have all the documentation we need, including your signature on the loan agreement, copies of your passport, Social Security number, and tax returns for the last three years.”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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