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Even-Steven, or No Trade

It seemed that though there was no money to fund a transaction, the lender’s counsel thought it best that the seller participate in the closing and leave the signed deed with him. After all, he said with a Chesire Cat smile, he was “100% positive” he’d have funding by “11:00 am or so” the next day.  “Just come on back in and pick up your money,” he said, dripping honey.

 

As the seller’s attorney, I refused to “close dry.” I also groused, objected, chirped, griped, protested and postured until almost everyone present detested me. The man with the formerly saccharine grin gnashed his teeth and narrowed his lips. After an especially shrilly complaint from me, he loudly stomped out of the room, went into a back office, and stridently yelled at some unknown keeper of the money.

 

Just about 15 minutes later, bank checks were produced, accompanied by sneers from the buyers’ side of the table and a “get the hell outta here” glare from the lender’s attorney.

 

I didn’t care that the people we left behind in that room all abhorred me. All I cared about was my client, who came to the closing with a full moving van.  She thanked me profusely for refusing to bend. I assured her that I never conclude a closing without making a fair swap, even if I have to make an enemy or two along the way.

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