Chapter 17 - Under the Auction Hammer
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Thirty days later, the inevitable final act arrived for Mercer Manor.
The primary bank officially foreclosed on the historic estate. Because Vivian had failed to pay the back taxes or the secondary mortgage interest that I had previously covered, the property was put up for public foreclosure auction on the county courthouse steps.
I drove down to the courthouse that Tuesday morning, wearing a sharp white trench coat and dark sunglasses, watching the proceedings from the back of the crowd.
Vivian stood near the front, flanked by a court-appointed public defender. She looked withered and frail, wrapped in an old wool coat that had seen better days. Her grand mansion, once valued at over $3 million, was heavily encumbered by liens and structural neglect.
The auctioneer stepped up to the podium, tapping his gavel against the wooden block.
"Starting bid for 412 Mercer Manor Drive is set at $1.2 million to cover primary bank liens," the auctioneer called out into the microphone. "Do I have an opening bid?"
A representative from a commercial real estate development firm raised his paddle immediately. "1.2 million!"
"Do I hear 1.3?"
Silence fell over the small crowd of investors. Nobody wanted to touch a debt-ridden historic home requiring millions in repairs.
"Going once... going twice... Sold for $1.2 million to Apex Holdings!" the gavel slammed down with a loud CRACK.
Vivian let out a choked sob, falling back into her lawyer's arms. The home she had lived in for thirty years, the symbol of her inflated social status, was gone in less than two minutes.
As she was guided toward the exit, she caught sight of me standing quietly at the back of the plaza.
May you like
She stopped in her tracks, her eyes filling with a mixture of burning rage and bitter regret. She realized then that the woman she had pushed onto the floor was the only person who had ever held her world together.
I raised my coffee cup slightly in her direction, turned around, and walked away into the sunshine.
