“You're using my building.”
“Our building.”
“No.”
That came out more sharply than I intended.
“The warehouse was mine before we met.”
“We've been married eighteen years.”
“I know.”
“And you think that means it has nothing to do with me?”
“I think it means I need to understand exactly what it has to do with you before I sign another page.”
Laura stared.
“Is this because of Daniel?”
“This is because I found my property in a financing package I never approved.”
She looked away.
“Daniel thinks emotionally attached assets are a bad way to make decisions.”
I almost smiled.
“Does Daniel own a warehouse?”
“That isn't the point.”
“Does he own anything being pledged?”
“Greg.”
“Does he?”
She did not answer.
That was enough conversation.
I went upstairs.
Got dressed.
Called Michael Reed.
He answered on the second ring.
Michael had handled the original warehouse purchase years earlier, then helped with my will, business succession documents, and several contracts. He was not a divorce lawyer by specialty, but he knew enough to know when one needed to be brought into the room.
“Michael, it's Greg.”
“Sunday morning usually means somebody died or somebody signed something they shouldn't have.”
“Not yet.”
“That doesn't sound promising.”
“I need you to look at a loan package.”
“What kind?”
“One involving my warehouse.”
“You refinancing?”
“No.”
Silence.
Then:
“Be in my office tomorrow at eight. Bring everything. Do not sign, transfer, cancel, freeze, or move anything until we talk.”
“Understood.”
“And Greg?”
“Yes?”
“Do not send angry emails.”
“I haven't.”