Chapter 7: The Call Scott Didn't Expect
Patricia called back at four-fifteen.
I was sitting on the back porch with Mom, who had spent the afternoon quietly repotting a plant she'd brought in from my windowsill because she said it was root-bound and needed more space.
She didn't ask.
She just did it.
It was the most like herself she'd seemed since she arrived.
I stepped inside to take the call.
"I spoke with Gerald Hargrove," Patricia said.
"He remembered the codicil.
He also remembered who brought your father in to sign it."
I waited.
"Your brother accompanied your father to that appointment.
He told Hargrove your father had been wanting to update the document for some time and needed help getting there." She paused.
"Hargrove said your father seemed quiet during the meeting.
He assumed it was the illness.
He didn't flag it."
"Scott drove him there."
"And sat in the room during the signing."
I leaned against the counter.
"Patricia.
The signature."
"I've sent it to an examiner I trust.
She can turn it around in forty-eight hours.
But I want to be honest with you — even if the signature is your father's, the circumstances of that signing are worth examining.
A man in declining health, brought to a legal appointment by the person who stands to benefit most from the document, with no independent advocate present." Her voice was steady.
"That's a pattern I've seen before."
"What does it mean legally?"
"It means there may be grounds to challenge the codicil on the basis of undue influence.
Possibly lack of capacity, depending on what his medical records show from that period." She paused.
"I'd like you to request those records.
His primary physician.
Whatever specialists he was seeing in that last year."
"Okay."
"And I need you to not tell your brother any of this yet."
"He's going to call."
"Let him.
You can tell him you've spoken to an attorney and you're reviewing the document.
Nothing more."
As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Scott's name on the screen.
"He's calling right now," I said.
"Answer it," Patricia said.
"Keep it short.
Call me after."
I switched over.
"Scott."
"Did you read the document?"
"I had an attorney look at it."
A pause.
Shorter than I expected.
"And?"
"She has questions.
We're looking into it."
"What kind of questions?" His voice had an edge now.
The careful patience from the night before was gone.
"About the circumstances of the signing."
Silence.
"That document is legitimate," he said.
"Dad wanted this.
He told me himself."
"Then you won't mind us verifying that."
"I drove him to that appointment, yes.
Because he asked me to.
Because you weren't around, and I was the one taking him to his appointments and managing his care and doing all the things that needed to be done while you were—"
"While I was what, Scott?"
He stopped.
"While I was living my life?" I said.
"While I was working?
While I was calling Mom every week and visiting when I could, the same as you?"
"It wasn't the same."
"Then say what you mean."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"I put in the time," he said finally.
"I was there.
That house — everything in it — I helped maintain it.
I helped pay for repairs.
I deserve a say in what happens to it."
"You helped with repairs?"
"Twice.
The roof in 2019.
The furnace the year before that."
"Dad paid you back for both of those.
I saw the checks."
The silence that followed was different from the others.
"I want a meeting," Scott said.
"The three of us.
This week."
"When Patricia clears her schedule," I said.
"Not before."
I ended the call before he could respond.
I stood in my kitchen for a moment.
Then I went back outside and told Mom her plant looked good in the new pot.
She smiled.
Small, but real.
"Your father gave me that plant," she said.
"The year we moved into the house."
She pressed the soil down gently with two fingers.
"I'm not leaving that house," she said.
"I just want you to know that."
"I know, Mom."
"Whatever that paper says."
"I know."
She looked up at me.
"What did Patricia say?"
I sat down beside her.
"She said we have a case," I told her.
"She said Dad may not have understood what he was signing."
Mom was quiet for a long moment.
"He wouldn't have done this," she said.
"Not to me.
Not knowingly."
"I believe you."
Her jaw tightened.
Not with grief.
May you like
With something firmer than grief.
"Then let's prove it," she said.
