"Did you ever discuss it?"
"Once. Last year. He said it would be 'cleaner' for the baby if we were both on title. I said no. I said Grandpa left it to me and I wanted to keep it that way. He said okay. He never brought it up again."
"Never?"
Nora thought about it. "Never," she said. And understood, saying it, why.
Marcus walked them through it. They'd file a quiet title action to void the deed. They'd record a lis pendens immediately—a notice of pending litigation that would cloud the title so no lender in California would touch it. They'd notify Delta Federal in writing that the borrower's spouse disputed the validity of the title and alleged fraud. And today, right now, before any of it, Nora should enroll in the county's property fraud alert, which would email her any time any document was recorded against her name.
"What about the power of attorney?" Priya asked.
"Revoke it. In writing, notarized, recorded, served on him. Today." A pause. "Not by your mother."
Nora surprised herself by laughing.
There were other things. Priya made a list in her exhibit-sized font and Nora worked down it the way she worked down her lesson plans every Sunday night, one checkbox at a time. She opened a new checking account at a bank where Grant had never worked and moved her paycheck deposit into it. She pulled her credit report, all three bureaus, and found an inquiry from Delta Federal dated July ninth that she had never authorized, and, more interestingly, a soft inquiry from Sierra Pacific Bank dated in March. She called a locksmith, who came that afternoon and changed every lock in the house while Frank stood in the driveway with his arms crossed. She called her OB and asked them to note in her chart that Grant Hollis no longer had authority to make medical decisions on her behalf, and signed a new advance healthcare directive naming her father, with a notary Priya found at a UPS Store on Riverside who took Nora's thumbprint without being asked and explained, unprompted, exactly what each page was.
And at four in the afternoon, Nora sat at the rolltop desk in Leo's den and wrote a letter in her own hand.
Dear Ms. Castellano,
Pursuant to California Government Code section 8206(c), I am requesting a photostatic copy of the line item in your notary journal corresponding to any notarial act performed for me, Nora Castellano Hollis, on or about May 14 of this year, including any and all documents described in that entry and any associated thumbprint.
I have enclosed a self-addressed stamped envelope.