So it’s done, or near enough for rock and roll. We tried to buy an extension, but the terms provided us were impossible.
If it helps, we came closer than we had any right to and failed by only a slim margin.
I refuse to quit, though, when the fight is not over yet. There is still a faint wisp of hope. As far as I can tell, if there’s no other buyer who has the cash, then the deal isn’t dead, just this iteration of the contract. It was pointed out to me that none of this means they have another deal set up or even in negotiation. He’s only asking an exorbitant amount because he can. Until the pay or play date expires, he’s got me over a barrel in terms of demanding extensions. Once it expires, if they don’t have another buyer, I have the upper hand. We get a second chance, with possibly better terms.
Also, my lawyer’s review of the contract indicates that the name of the vendor does not match the registered owner of the Property. The Property is owned by Wescana Pharmacy Ltd. The fact that the vendor is named incorrectly may be grounds for having the contract set aside. We have chances, slim chances, the sort terrible movie plots hinge upon more often than you can change the channel. All of this supposition could mean nothing. I might still be sued for defaulting on the contract. Given another shot, however, and we are better armed with both knowledge and liquid assets, we have an army built to support us and the national news at our back. All I have to do is call to get on the evening news and the morning report. (The CBC radio interviews are now up on Foxtongue.)
(Which reminds me, I want people to know just how touched I am by the support I’ve been receiving from the CBC. After Paul Grant called to follow-up on the radio interview and wish me well, he called back about an hour later, parent-senses tingling, to make sure that I had groceries. (His son is 22, close to my age). He’d put together that I’m young, stressed, unemployed and obviously haven’t been eating. “If you need anything, know you can call me.” It flustered me, not knowing how to thank him without cracking into tears.)
People are still sending me money, more so than before as word continues to spread virally. I think we’re averaging a grand a day. Irritatingly, I’m leaving a lot of e-mail unanswered right now, (which is something I refused to do before), because I’m not sure what to say. I should know by Friday whether or not I need to give the money back or if we have another shot at the darkness. Until then, I’m in a fugue, wavering between being dejected and my righteous refusal to let the miracle worked amount to nothing.
