Chapter 18 - The Meeting in Ravenna
The Ravenna courthouse was surrounded by blooming dogwood trees when Arden and I walked up the limestone steps in early May. The air smelled of wet asphalt and sweet floral blossoms, and the heavy oak doors of the probate court stood wide open to catch the spring breeze.
We didn't have a summons this time. We had an appointment with the chief magistrate to finalize the permanent discharge of all historical liens against the Muirfield property.
Inside Hearing Room B, Judge Vance was sitting behind his high mahogany desk, sipping coffee from a mug that said *World's Okayest Grandpa.* He didn't look up immediately as we walked in; he was reading through a thick sheaf of legal documents stamped with the official seal of the United States District Court for the Southern District of Ohio.
"Sit down, Eleanor. Arden," the judge said, gesturing to the two leather chairs in front of the dais without raising his eyes from the paper.
We sat down. Arden placed her briefcase on her lap, her fingers resting lightly on the brass latch.
Judge Vance finally looked up, his old eyes crinkling at the corners with a slow, satisfied smile. "Well, ladies. It appears the federal bankruptcy court in Cincinnati has officially concluded its review of Sterling Enterprises' asset liquidation."
He slid a single sheet of heavy bond paper across the mahogany surface toward us.
I picked it up and read the clean, typewritten text. All claims, liens, encumbrances, and historical reversionary interests filed under the name of Sterling Enterprises or its subsidiaries against the Muirfield land parcels were declared null, void, and permanently vacated.
"It's over," Arden whispered, her voice trembling just a fraction as she read the judge's signature at the bottom of the page. "There’s nothing left for them to claw back."
"Not a damn thing," Judge Vance said, leaning back in his leather chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "Grant Sterling entered a guilty plea on three counts of wire fraud and corporate asset manipulation yesterday morning. He’ll be spending the next twenty-five years reflecting on the difference between legitimate business and corporate thievery in a federal facility outside of Terre Haute."
He looked across the desk at me, his expression turning warm and nostalgic.
"Tom would have bought a round of drinks for the whole county at the diner if he were here to see this, Eleanor."
"Tom wouldn't have wasted his money on drinks at the diner, Thomas," I replied, a small, genuine smile touching my lips. "He would have bought a new set of metric wrenches and told everyone to get back to work."
May you like
"That he would," the judge laughed, picking up his wooden gavel and bringing it down once—not in anger or warning, but with the clean, resonant sound of a hammer hitting an anvil to seal a finished job. "Court's adjourned. Permanently."
***
