Phyllis Asked The Judge To Clear My Claim Before Closing

I wore a clean blue shirt to the Racine County courthouse. I had scrubbed the finish dust out from under my nails, but a thin white line remained beside my scar.

The marble stayed in my coat pocket.

Dana had answered the company's lawsuit and filed counterclaims for the note and the unpaid work. Now Phyllis wanted an early order making me terminate my filing so the sale could go through.

“Today isn't the whole trial,” Dana reminded me. “Answer only what's asked.”

We sat outside the courtroom beneath a wall clock that ticked louder than it should have.

Phyllis arrived with her lawyer and a small black handbag. She looked at my shoes before she looked at my face.

“Daniel would be sick over this.”

I kept my hands on my knees.

“You filed the lawsuit.”

“Because you left me no choice.”

Her lawyer asked her to sit at the other end of the hall.

Lena had agreed to extend her deadline by thirty days, provided the machines and records stayed in place. That gave Phyllis room to settle. Instead, she had spent part of it asking a judge to take away my claim.

Inside, the courtroom smelled of floor wax and damp wool.

The company's lawyer said the disputed filing put a sale at risk. He said his client challenged her consent to the security terms. He asked that the money stay in escrow while the filing was cleared.

Dana stood.

“There is no agreed escrow arrangement. My client has been asked to release her security first and argue about payment later.”

She gave the judge copies already filed with the court. Nobody slid a surprise paper out of a bag. Each exhibit had a number.

One was the note.

One was the security agreement.

One was the filing acknowledgment.

Then came the bank transfer and Phyllis's email correcting the equipment schedule.

The judge turned a page.

“Your client received the money?” she asked Phyllis's lawyer.

“The company received funds, yes.”

“And retained the equipment purchased and repaired with those funds?”

“Yes.”

Phyllis leaned toward him and whispered. He listened, then faced the bench again.

“She understood the funds as family assistance.”

The judge looked at the note's heading.

“That understanding is disputed. It does not allow me to ignore these documents at this stage.”

I had to stop myself from nodding.

When Dana called me for brief testimony, I walked past Phyllis without looking down.

“Did you agree to make a gift?” Dana asked.

“No.”

“Did the borrower repay any of the advance?”

“No.”

Her lawyer asked whether I had loved my husband.

“Yes.”

“And wanted his mother's business to survive?”

“Yes.”

“So there was a family purpose.”

“There was a family reason for offering the loan. It was still a loan.”

He asked if I had ever worked at the alley without billing for every hour.

“Yes. I carried chairs at a league dinner. I brought soup when Phyllis was sick.”

“So you did provide unpaid help.”

“Sometimes. I didn't send a bid for the soup.”

Nobody laughed. I was glad. I had not meant it as a joke.

Dana asked the judge to look at the written approval for the $8,400 resurfacing job and Walt's inspection report. That claim would remain part of the case, too.

The judge declined to order me to terminate the filing. She made no final ruling on the debt or signature. At both lawyers' request, she entered an order keeping the listed machines and business records intact while the case continued.

“A sale deadline does not decide a disputed contract,” she said.

Outside, Phyllis stood beside a drinking fountain.

“Are you satisfied?”

“No,” I said. “I have another legal bill.”

That seemed to surprise her more than anger would have.

I wanted my money back. I wanted my work paid for. I wanted to stop hearing that those wishes were a defect in my character.

Dana and I walked toward the elevators.

“She can still settle,” she said. “Or we'll take testimony and keep building the record.”

“What if Lena leaves?”

“The company still owes what it owes, if we prove the claims. But losing this buyer could make collection harder. A fair settlement has value.”

I appreciated that she did not make a victory sound free.

That night, I checked my work calendar and paid my van insurance. My life had bills that did not wait for Phyllis to feel ready.

The next morning, Dana forwarded a formal notice.

Phyllis's sworn deposition was set for the following Tuesday, and she had been required to bring her original signing folder.