…co-sign the loan for the remaining $180,000.”
I had never seen the yacht. I’d never seen the paperwork. I asked the marina manager to email me everything.
The purchase agreement had my name typed as co-borrower and a signature that wasn’t mine. The down payment, fifty-five thousand dollars, had come from an account in my son’s name the same day I’d transferred my money to “save his employees.”
I called his company’s office. The receptionist told me cheerfully that business was great this quarter. They’d just hired three new people.
I drove to my son’s house that evening. He opened the door wearing a captain’s hat. That was the moment I stopped feeling guilty.
“Your employees are fine,” I said. “Your business is fine. And that’s not my signature on the loan for your boat.”
He tried to say his wife had handled the paperwork. His wife, Courtney, said he’d told her I’d agreed. Neither of them looked at me.
I told them I’d be calling the bank, the marina and my lawyer, in that order, unless my money was back in my account within a week.
It took them nine days to sell the yacht. They lost money on the deal. My $55,000 arrived on the tenth day, with no note.
My son and I are slowly speaking again. Last summer, he invited me to go fishing on a friend’s small rowboat. He rowed. I caught three fish. He didn’t wear the captain’s hat.
