Melissa’s voice became more serious.
“Ian, we need to discuss possession.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean legally. They’re occupants. You let them live there for years. Depending on how this is classified, we should be extremely careful.”
“I already called my attorney.”
“Good.”
My attorney was a man named Nathan Cole, who had handled leases and acquisitions for my restaurants for nearly eight years.
Nathan possessed an unusual professional gift.
He could make unpleasant facts sound boring.
Which, in legal disputes, was incredibly useful.
When I told him the situation Sunday morning, he had interrupted me three times.
“Did they sign a lease?”
“No.”
“Do they pay rent?”
“No.”
“Utilities?”
“I cover property tax, homeowners insurance, and structural repairs. They pay electricity and cable.”
“Written promise that they could stay for life?”
“No.”
“Any ownership transferred?”
“No.”
Then he said the only sentence I needed.
“Good. Don’t improvise. I’ll handle notice.”
