…personally guarantee the entire mortgage if they ever missed a payment.”
I hadn’t agreed to anything. I hadn’t even known they wanted a second house.
The agent, Carol, sent me the documents. The signature looked a little like mine. The notary stamp belonged to a friend of my daughter-in-law’s. And the house they wanted to buy wasn’t a family home. It was a rental property, two blocks from the beach, that they planned to list on vacation websites.
“I didn’t feel right about it,” Carol said. “You’ve always been so careful. I wanted to hear it from you.”
I sent a letter to the bank that afternoon, stating that I hadn’t signed the guarantee. The loan was cancelled. The notary was reported to the state.
Then I called my son, Mark. I read him his own text message, word for word. “Mom will pay for everything if we tell her the kids will be disappointed.”
He was silent. Then he started making excuses. Money was tight. The rental would pay for itself. They were going to tell me eventually.
“You used your children as a reason to lie to me,” I said. “That’s the part I can’t get past.”
I still bought Christmas presents for my grandchildren. But I chose them myself: books, art supplies and a telescope for the oldest. I delivered them in person. I didn’t buy the $900 console.
Mark apologized in January. Properly. He paid back the $35,000 I’d given them, in monthly installments, over two years. On the last payment, he wrote in the memo line: “Thank you for saying no.” I framed the check stub.
