29. The Buyout
The Buyout
Jenna had never seen so many parts of her life squeezed into Manila folders.
Receipts. Invoices. Bank statements. Before-and-after photos. The appraiser’s report. The rally ledger. Four months of her existence reduced to labeled tabs and tiny binder clips.
“You’ve done excellent documentation, Ms. Hart,” the attorney said without looking up. “Judges love paper. If they could marry exhibits, they would.”
Jenna huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh and almost a sob. “If this doesn’t work, I’m filing a motion to crawl under the floor.”
“That’s not a recognized remedy under Florida civil procedure,” Ramirez said dryly. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”
Emmie sat beside Jenna, one leg bouncing like it was powered by caffeine and fury. She wore black slacks, a white blouse, and the expression of a girl who had seen too much of the world and was unimpressed by all of it.
“Walk me through this one more time,” Jenna said to her attorney. “Like I’m five. I don’t want to get on the stand and accidentally say something that sounds like ‘please take my house.’”
“You’re not five,” Emmie muttered. “You’re thirty-six and terrifying.”
“Thirty-four,” Jenna corrected automatically, then winced. “God, I’m old.”
“Vintage millennial,” Emmie corrected.
“Focus,” Ramirez said, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She laid out three documents in front of Jenna, tapping each one in turn.
“Exhibit A,” she said. “The jointly ordered certified appraisal. It establishes the fair market value of the combined parcels, this house and the bakery, at seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Jenna nodded. She’d read that report so many times the words were burned into her brain.
“Exhibits B-1 through B-19,” Ramirez continued, indicating the fat packet behind it.
“Itemized ledger of your capital improvements since Troy vacated the property eight months ago. Invoices, receipts, canceled checks. Total: one hundred twenty-three thousand, four hundred and eleven dollars and nine cents.”
“Don’t forget the nine cents,” Emmie said. “We bled for those nine cents.”
“And Exhibit C,” Ramirez went on. “Your sworn affidavit and supporting bank records showing that you, and only you, have paid the mortgage, property taxes, insurance, and major repairs during the period following Mrs. Bailey’s death. Zero help from the plaintiff.”
Jenna swallowed. “Or the law…”
“The law,” Ramirez said, slipping into her courtroom voice, “is on our side in a partition action when it comes to equitable credits. Co-tenants are entitled to a contribution for necessary expenditures and improvements that enhance the value of the property. In English, the court doesn’t love it when an absentee owner tries to cash out on value created entirely by someone else. ”
“And Troy?” Emmie asked. “What’s he trying to cash out on again?”
“Twenty-five percent,” Ramirez said. “Though once the court accounts for the renovations and carrying costs, his actual share is considerably lower.”
“Hence . . .” Emmie prompted.
“Hence the settlement offer.” Ramirez slid the document across the table. “One hundred twenty thousand dollars in exchange for a full buyout. He gets paid. You get clear title. Everyone avoids a trial.”
“It still feels like we’re rewarding him,” Emmie muttered.
Jenna stared at the number on the page.
“We’re not rewarding him,” Ramirez said. “We’re buying peace. There’s a difference.” Jenna stared at the number on the settlement sheet.
$120,000.00
PAYABLE TO: TROY BAILEY
IN EXCHANGE FOR: QUITCLAIM DEED CONVEYING PLAINTIFF’S ENTIRE INTEREST IN THE REAL PROPERTY LOCATED AT 107 ATHENS ST S AND THE COMMERCIAL PROPERTY KNOWN AS THE BLUE CYPRESS BAKERY, LOCATED AT 108 ATHENS ST S
“Including all the fees, that’s all of the rally money,” Jenna said quietly. “And my savings. And the line of credit.”
“It is almost exactly the amount you can comfortably assemble without mortgaging your soul,” Ramirez said.
“Which is why we picked it. It’s also a very appealing number to a plaintiff who’s already received a substantial life insurance payout and liquidated two vehicles.
My strong expectation is that his counsel will advise him to take the bird in the hand. ”
“And if he doesn’t?” Jenna asked.
“Then we proceed to a contested partition hearing,” Ramirez said. “We make our equitable credit arguments at full volume. We litigate. That is our right. But . . . based on the communications I’ve had with opposing counsel, I don’t think we’ll need to.”
As if on cue, the door at the end of the hall opened, and Troy walked in with his attorney.
He looked smaller in person than he had in her memory. Maybe it was the suit, maybe it was the harsh fluorescent light. Maybe it was simply time. His hair was thinner. His gut was thicker. His mouth still had that easy, charming curve that had once made her sister’s eyes spark.
Now, it just made Jenna’s stomach roll.
He glanced up, saw them, and offered a little half-smile like they were old friends meeting at a reunion.
“Ms. Hart,” his lawyer said, nodding. “Ms. Cruz.” He was tall and blandly pleasant, carrying a slim briefcase instead of the mountain of paper Ramirez had.
“Counsel,” Ramirez replied coolly.
Troy looked her up and down with the cool detachment of someone evaluating a thing he once damaged and left behind.
“You look good, Jen,” he said. “Stress suits you.”
Emmie’s leg stopped bouncing. “That’s interesting,” she said, “because you look terrible.”
“Em,” Jenna said softly.
Troy’s attorney cleared his throat. “Let’s keep this civil, please.”
Emmie leaned forward, eyes sharp.
“Civil? Is that what we’re doing now?” she asked. “All he’s ever done is cause stress and drain this family. You took everything my mom had. And now that she’s gone, you’re here to take from me and Aunt Jenna, too.”
Ramirez laid a light hand on Emmie’s arm, a silent not yet. Emmie gave a nod of understanding.
“We’ve reviewed your client’s proposal,” Troy’s lawyer said to Ramirez. “My client is prepared to put the terms on the record and join in a global stipulated judgment.”
“So he’s taking the deal,” Emmie translated, eyes never leaving Troy’s face.
Troy spread his hands. “I’m a reasonable guy.”
“No,” Emmie said. “You’re a greedy guy with a short attention span. Those aren’t the same.”
“Enough,” Jenna said, although there was a sliver of satisfaction in watching him flinch.
A bailiff opened the double doors to the courtroom. “Bailey versus Hart and Cruz,” he called. “Partition action. Counsel and parties, you’re up.”
Jenna’s heart thudded.
This was it.
She stood, smoothed the front of her blazer, and followed Ramirez into the cool, wood-paneled courtroom. Emmie walked on her other side, shoulders squared.
They took their seats at the defendants’ table. Troy and his lawyer sat opposite. The bailiff intoned, “All rise,” and everyone stood as Judge Collins entered and took her place on the bench.
Judge Collins was in her late fifties, silver-streaked hair pulled back, glasses on a chain. She looked over the file with the weary familiarity of someone who had seen every kind of family fight imaginable.
“Good morning,” she said, settling in. “We are on the record in Bailey versus Hart and Cruz, Case Number 24-CP-316. This is set for a preliminary hearing on the plaintiff’s complaint for partition of real property. Appearances, please.”
Ramirez rose. “Good morning, Your Honor. Alicia Ramirez, on behalf of respondents Jenna Hart and Emmeline Cruz, who is a minor. Ms. Hart appears as co-tenant and as next of kin for Ms. Cruz.”
Troy’s counsel stood. “Good morning, Judge. Mark Decker on behalf of plaintiff Troy Bailey, who is present.”
The judge nodded. “All right. I have read the pleadings, including the complaint for partition, the respondents’ answer and affirmative defenses, and the pre-hearing memorandum.
I also see there has been some movement since our last case management conference.
” She peered over the top of her glasses. “Counsel, do we have an agreement?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Ramirez said. “The parties have reached a stipulated resolution, subject to the court’s approval, that would render the requested partition by sale unnecessary.”
“That is correct, Your Honor,” Decker echoed. “We have agreed in principle to a buyout of my client’s undivided interest.”
“All right,” Judge Collins said. “Let’s put the material terms on the record and make sure everyone understands what they’re getting into. Ms. Ramirez?”
Ramirez stepped to the lectern, her posture straight.
“Thank you, Your Honor. As the court is aware, this is a post-decedent situation involving co-owned real property, the Hart family residence on Athens Street and The Blue Cypress Bakery, which share common ownership. Upon Ms. Hart’s sister’s death intestate, her fifty-percent interest devolved, pursuant to Florida statute, in equal parts to her surviving spouse, Mr. Bailey, and her child, Ms. Cruz, resulting in an undivided twenty-five percent fractional interest for each, with the remaining fifty percent owned by Ms. Hart. ”
Judge Collins nodded. “Yes, I recall that from the pleadings.”
“Since Mr. Bailey vacated the marital home approximately eight months ago and Mrs. Bailey was deceased four months ago,” Ramirez continued, “Ms. Hart has been in sole possession of the premises. During that time, she has borne one hundred percent of the carrying costs—mortgage, taxes, insurance, utilities—and has funded extensive capital improvements to both the residence and the bakery. We have submitted as Exhibit B, a detailed ledger of those improvements, totaling one hundred twenty-three thousand, four hundred eleven dollars and nine cents in out-of-pocket expenditures.”
She slid the thick packet onto the corner of the bench. The clerk stepped up, took it, and marked it.
“Exhibit B, so marked,” the clerk said.