Chapter 5: A Codicil Nobody Knew About
Nobody touched the envelope.
It sat in the middle of my kitchen table like something that had been placed there very deliberately, and I understood suddenly that it had been.
Scott hadn't come here to apologize.
He'd come here to play this card.
"Where did you get that?" I said.
"Dad's attorney.
I contacted them a few months back to ask some questions about the estate.
They sent me a copy."
"Why were you contacting Dad's attorney?"
"Because I had questions about the property.
About what happens to it long term." He said it like it was reasonable.
Like it was obvious.
"Mom's not getting younger.
Someone has to think about these things."
"And you decided that someone was you.
Without telling either of us."
"I was gathering information."
"You were gathering information about our mother's house without telling her or me."
"It's not just her house." He said it quietly, but it landed like a door slamming.
"That's what the codicil says.
Dad added language six months before he died.
The house doesn't transfer outright to Mom.
It goes into a shared family trust.
Equal shares — Mom, me, and you."
Mom's hands came off the mug.
"That's not what your father told me," she said.
"Mom—"
"He told me the house was mine.
He sat across from me at that table and he told me."
"I know what he told you.
But what he told you and what he signed aren't the same thing." Scott's voice was careful.
Patient.
The kind of patient that isn't kind.
"I'm not saying Dad meant to mislead you.
I think he changed his mind and didn't know how to bring it up.
But the document exists."
I looked at the envelope.
"Have you had this verified?"
"It came directly from Hargrove and Associates.
Dad's firm."
"That doesn't mean it says what you're saying it says."
"Read it."
I didn't pick it up.
Not yet.
"If this is real," I said slowly, "and I'm not saying it is — what exactly are you proposing?"
Scott sat down.
He folded his hands on the table like a man who had rehearsed this.
"The house is worth somewhere between four-eighty and five-twenty right now.
If we list it in the spring, we could see offers above asking." He glanced at Mom.
"Mom's share would be substantial.
More than enough to cover a very comfortable arrangement at a place like Sunrise Gardens for years.
She'd be taken care of.
Financially secure."
"She's financially secure now," I said.
"She owns her house."
"She owns a third of her house.
Technically."
The word technically sat in the air.
Mom was very still.
"I want to call someone," I said.
"Who?"
"A lawyer.
Before anyone reads that document, agrees to anything, or has any more of this conversation."
Scott's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
A tightening around the eyes.
"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"
"No.
I think it's exactly appropriate." I stood up.
"Mom is going to stay here tonight.
You're going to leave that envelope on the table.
And tomorrow I'm going to call an estate attorney and find out what that document actually says and whether it's actually valid."
"It's valid."
"Then it'll still be valid tomorrow."
Scott looked at Mom.
One more time.
That soft voice.
"Mom, I'm not the enemy here.
I'm trying to protect you."
Mom looked back at him.
Her hands were still in her lap.
"You had that brochure on the table before you said a word to me," she said.
"You'd already decided."
Scott stood.
He buttoned his jacket.
"Call the lawyer," he said.
"You'll see I'm right."
He walked to the front door.
Opened it.
The rain was still coming down.
"There's one more thing," he said, without turning around.
"The codicil also names a trustee.
Someone with authority to make decisions about the property if the owners can't agree."
He paused.
May you like
"It's me," he said.
Then he walked out into the rain and pulled the door shut behind him.
