Chapter 7 - The Man With the Stamp
Evan Pike agreed to meet only after Maya sent him a formal preservation notice.
They met at his small bookkeeping office in Petaluma.
Maya did most of the talking.
Isabel sat beside her.
Pike looked exhausted before the meeting began.
“I told you,” he said. “I don’t remember that deed.”
Maya placed the certified copy on the table.
“Your notary seal.”
“Yes.”
“Your commission number.”
“Yes.”
“Your signature.”
Pike stared at it.
“Yes.”
“And you still don’t remember.”
“No.”
Maya took out another page.
“California notaries maintain journals.”
His face tightened.
“My journal was damaged.”
“How?”
“Water leak.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Before or after we contacted you?”
“Before.”
“Where is it?”
“Destroyed.”
Maya’s expression did not change.
“Do you have insurance?”
Pike looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if you falsely acknowledged a deed, you may need it.”
He stood abruptly.
“This meeting is over.”
Isabel spoke for the first time.
“I was in Oregon.”
Pike froze.
“There’s video.”
He looked at her.
“I was on a stage at the exact minute you certified I was standing in front of you.”
His shoulders sagged.
Maya waited.
Pike sat again.
No one spoke for nearly thirty seconds.
Then he said, “Helena told me you had signed earlier.”
Maya’s voice remained calm.
“That does not authorize you to notarize an acknowledgment as though Isabel appeared before you.”
“I know.”
“Who was present?”
Pike looked miserable.
“Helena.”
“Julian?”
“No.”
Isabel’s heart thudded.
“Peter Voss?”
Another silence.
Pike looked at Maya.
“I need a lawyer.”
“Yes,” Maya said. “You do.”
The meeting ended there.
But it had given them something critical.
Pike had admitted Helena was present.
He had denied Julian was.
Outside the office, Isabel leaned against Maya’s car.
“So Helena forged Julian’s signature too?”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“To make the deed look more credible. Or because the title company required some additional identification. We need the complete file.”
“Pike said Voss’s name without saying it.”
“He reacted.”
“That’s enough for me.”
“Not for court.”
Isabel exhaled.
“I know.”
She was beginning to hate that phrase.
Back at Reyes Vineyard, harvest pressure intensified.
The first Pinot blocks were days from picking.
A buyer delayed a contract.
Two employees asked Luis whether their jobs were safe.
Someone had posted anonymous claims in a local industry forum saying Reyes Vineyard faced “fraud allegations and imminent foreclosure.”
The post made it sound as though Isabel had committed the fraud.
Helena understood reputation.
If she could not immediately seize the property, she could make it harder for Isabel to operate it.
Isabel called an all-staff meeting.
Thirty-two employees gathered in the production barn.
She stood on a low platform beside a stack of empty harvest bins.
“I’m not going to discuss private legal details,” she said. “But I will tell you what affects your jobs.”
Everyone became still.
“Reyes Vineyard remains operating. Payroll is funded. Harvest is proceeding.”
A worker near the back raised his hand.
“Are we being sold?”
“No.”
“Can you promise that?”
Isabel thought of every leader who had made promises they could not control.
“No,” she said.
Murmurs moved through the room.
She continued.
“I can promise I am not voluntarily selling this vineyard. I can promise I am fighting a disputed transfer involving one parcel. And I can promise I will tell you the truth when something changes.”
Luis watched her.
That was all.
No grand speech.
No claim that everything would be fine.
Just truth.
Afterward, several workers came forward with questions.
One, Teresa Molina, had worked harvests there for eleven years.
“My husband says Laurent is telling suppliers your credit is frozen.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then maybe you should tell suppliers before Helena does.”
The bluntness startled Isabel.
Then she nodded.
“You’re right.”
That afternoon, she and Luis called every major vendor.
Some conversations were humiliating.
Some were surprisingly supportive.
One cooperage extended terms by thirty days.
A trucking company demanded advance payment.
Reyes Vineyard survived both.
Late that evening, Julian appeared at the office door.
“I found something.”
Isabel did not invite him inside.
“What?”
“My mother’s old shared drive.”
“You still have access?”
“I did. She changed the password this morning.”
“Then how?”
“Local backup on an old laptop at Laurent Cellars.”
Isabel narrowed her eyes.
“You took it?”
“It belongs to me. It was my work laptop.”
“What’s on it?”
“Folders from Voss.”
He held up a USB drive.
Isabel did not take it.
“Give it to Maya.”
“I already made arrangements.”
“Then why are you here?”
Julian looked exhausted.
“Because one folder was named after you.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What did you see?”
“Only the directory names. I didn’t open the documents after I realized they might be evidence.”
For once, he had done exactly the careful thing.
Isabel hated that she noticed.
“What was the folder called?”
Julian’s face changed.
“REYES — PHASE II.”
She stared at him.
“Phase two?”
“Yes.”
“What was phase one?”
“I think we already know.”
The north parcel.
Isabel’s phone buzzed.
A message from Maya.
Pike retained counsel. His attorney just contacted me. They may cooperate under formal process.
A second message arrived from Nora.
I checked HL Agricultural’s loan covenants. There is a condition tied to Phase II.
Isabel called immediately.
“What condition?”
Nora answered.
“If the company doesn’t add at least forty additional acres of vineyard collateral by November first, the lender can reprice the loan or demand additional security.”
Isabel looked at Julian.
It was September eighteenth.
Six weeks.
Helena was not merely trying to complete an old plan.
May you like
She was running out of time.
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