Chapter 6 - FORTY-ONE CENTS ON THE DOLLARI bought the final block.
Not because it was brave.
Because after reviewing the numbers, I believed the downside was survivable.
Barely.
That distinction mattered.
I did not mortgage the farmhouse.
I used proceeds from the outlying-land sale and investment savings.
Whitfield Farm still had an operating line.
But my liquidity became thin.
I told Naomi.
She hated it.
“You understand distressed debt can get more distressed.”
“Yes.”
“You understand political leverage is not repayment.”
“Yes.”
“You understand Fairwick could restructure.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do I feel like your mother?”
“Because you charge by the hour to worry.”
She did not laugh.
My broker settled the trade.
Now we waited for the trustee to update beneficial holdings.
No victory until settlement.
Meanwhile, the storm arrived.
Hail damaged forty acres of soybeans.
Not total loss.
Enough.
Crop insurance would cover part.
Cash would still be tight.
I stood in the field the next morning staring at shredded leaves.
My farm manager, Luis Ortega, crossed his arms.
“You want me to say it?”
“What?”
“You’re trying to save a house by becoming a bond trader again.”
“I never stopped understanding bonds.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Fair.
“Can the farm make payroll?”
“Yes.”
“Fertilizer?”
“Yes.”
“Repairs?”
“With less comfort.”
“Then I won’t lecture.”
“Thank you.”
“Yet.”
I smiled.
Conrad’s lawyers offered a settlement that afternoon.
Fairwick would:
Withdraw the demolition order.
Raise its purchase offer for my western sixty-three acres by twenty-five percent.
Preserve the farmhouse on five retained acres.
Reimburse medical expenses from the council incident without admission of liability.
In exchange:
I would sell the land.
Support Midland refinancing.
Agree not to direct bond-trustee enforcement related to past expenditures.
There.
The last clause.
Not the farm.
Audit.
“What do you think?” Naomi asked.
“No.”
“Because?”
“Because they’re asking me to waive something they haven’t explained.”
“Good.”
I countered:
No sale discussion until:
Independent engineering review.
Bond-proceeds audit.
Stonegate agreement disclosure.
Mayor removed from negotiations.
They rejected.
Town Attorney Stern called me personally.
“Mara, I’m going to say something as town counsel, not Conrad’s lawyer.”
“Okay.”
“Fairwick has a real financial problem.”
“I know.”
“If you force an immediate default, residents will suffer.”
“I haven’t threatened default.”
“Not yet.”
“Are you asking me not to enforce legal rights?”
“I’m asking you to understand consequences.”
“I do.”
That was what everyone kept forgetting.
I understood exactly enough to be frightened.
Then Stern said:
“The bond trustee received your latest settlement.”
“Yes?”
“You crossed the threshold.”
My heart stopped.
“What threshold?”
“Majority.”
I closed my eyes.
Exact number?
“Trustee will certify tomorrow.”
Not yet.
Then he added:
“Conrad knows.”
“How?”
“Midland told him the refinancing cannot proceed without majority-holder consent.”
Silence.
“What did he do?”
Stern exhaled.
“He told me to find another way around the indenture.”
May you like
Mayor Conrad was no longer trying to win a council vote.
He was trying to escape his own creditors.
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