Chapter 4: The Version That Was Filed
Daniel called at 7:52.
"I pulled the probate records.
I also called a colleague who specializes in estate litigation.
Emily, I need you to come in this morning."
"How bad is it?"
"Come in.
Bring the envelope."
I dropped Noah at school, told him to have a good day, watched him walk through the front doors still wearing the same shoes he'd worn to the wedding.
Then I drove to Daniel's office and laid the envelope on his desk.
He had two documents side by side — the one from the envelope, and a printed copy of what had been filed in 2013.
"Look at the signatures," he said.
I leaned in.
Both documents carried my grandfather's signature.
Same slanted cursive, same pressure on the capital letters.
"They look identical."
"They're not.
Look at the date on the filed version."
October 14th, 2013.
My grandfather had passed on October 28th.
"He signed this two weeks before he d*ed."
"Yes.
And the will in your envelope is dated September 3rd, 2013.
Seven weeks before he passed.
Both are witnessed.
Both are notarized." Daniel sat back.
"But here's the problem.
The notary on the filed version — the October 14th document — she passed away in 2016.
We can't question her."
"And the notary on mine?"
He slid a piece of paper across the desk.
A name.
An address in Concord, New Hampshire.
"She's alive.
And when I called her this morning, she remembered your grandfather very clearly.
She said he was specific about what he wanted.
She said he told her he'd already made one version and wanted to make sure this one — the equal split between his two granddaughters — was the one that counted."
My throat tightened.
"He told her that?"
"He told her the first version had been made under pressure.
That's the word she used.
Pressure."
I looked at the two documents on the desk.
"Someone convinced him to sign a second will."
"Or someone created the second will after the fact and filed it in place of this one.
Either way, the version that gave everything to your father — and eventually to Vanessa — may not reflect your grandfather's actual final wishes."
"Can we challenge it?"
"Yes.
But Vanessa's attorney will argue the transfer was legal and the statute of limitations has run.
We'll counter with the notary's testimony and push for a forensic document examination on both signatures." He folded his hands.
"It won't be fast.
And it won't be quiet."
"She humiliated my son in front of two hundred people, Daniel.
I'm not interested in quiet."
He almost smiled.
"I'll file the initial challenge this week.
But Emily — before I do, I need to ask you something."
"Ask."
"Your father.
When he saw the will last night, what exactly did he say?"
I thought about it carefully.
"He said call your attorney.
Tonight."
"He didn't say he didn't know about it."
The room was very still.
"No," I said.
"He didn't."
Daniel picked up his pen.
"Then I may need to speak with him as well."
My phone buzzed on the desk between us.
A call from an unknown number with a Boston area code.
I let it ring.
It rang again immediately after.
Daniel looked at it.
"Do you want to take that?"
I picked it up on the third call.
It was Vanessa's new husband, Marcus.
His voice was tight and low, like someone speaking from a room where he didn't want to be overheard.
"Emily.
We need to talk.
Not with Vanessa.
May you like
Just us.
Today."
