Chương 2
So does money.
“Did Shawn ever ask you about the trust?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hannah.”
“A few months ago.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That the cabin eventually comes to me.”
“Eventually means after I’m dead.”
“I know what eventually means.”
Her irritation came fast, familiar, almost comforting.
Then it disappeared.
“He asked if you could transfer it early.”
“And?”
“I said you wouldn’t.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“Because I knew the answer.”
A car door slammed somewhere on her end.
She lowered her voice.
“Dad, I need to call Shawn.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Call Evelyn first.”
“Why?”
“Because if your husband forged a deed with your dead mother’s signature on it, I don’t want you warning him before my lawyer figures out what else he did.”
She inhaled sharply.
“That is my husband.”
“And Susan was my wife.”
The words came out harder than I intended.
Hannah went quiet.
I rubbed my forehead.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“No, you meant it.”
“I mean that somebody signed her name.”
“You think Shawn did it.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Yes, you do.”
I looked across the driveway.
Greg had stopped arguing with Miller.
He was staring at me now.
“Hannah, did you give Shawn any documents from the trust?”
“No.”
“Did he ever have access to my files?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You gave us your spare house key when you had the knee surgery.”
My hand stopped against my forehead.
That had been eighteen months earlier.
Hannah and Shawn had brought groceries, changed the furnace filter, and driven me to physical therapy for two weeks.
Shawn had spent hours alone in my house while Hannah was at work.
The trust binder had been in the bottom drawer of my desk.
Susan’s old documents were in the same drawer.
“Hannah.”
“I’m still here.”
“Call Evelyn.”
“Dad, please don’t do anything until I talk to Shawn.”
Something inside me went cold.
“Why?”
“Because there could be an explanation.”
“For your mother signing a deed three years after her funeral?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“What explanation are you hoping for?”
She started crying then, quietly enough that she probably believed I couldn’t hear.
I hated myself for pressing her.
I hated Shawn more for making me wonder whether I should.
“Call Evelyn,” I said again.
Then I hung up.
Brenda was crying too.
She stood beside the U-Haul with one hand over her mouth while Greg spoke urgently into his phone.
Deputy Miller walked toward me.
“Mr. Miller, I need to clarify something.”
“All right.”
“The property record is a civil issue until we establish evidence of a criminal act.”
“My dead wife’s signature isn’t enough?”
“It’s significant.”
“That’s a careful word.”
“It’s the word I’m using.”
He was younger than I had first thought, maybe forty, with tired eyes and a wedding band scratched nearly white along one edge.
He did not seem impressed by Greg, but he did not seem interested in performing outrage for me either.
I found myself grateful for that.
“What happens to them?” I asked.
“For today, you’ve established your authority as trustee sufficiently for me to issue a trespass warning if you want them removed.”
“I do.”
Greg heard me.
“Oh, come on, Walter.”
Miller turned.
“Mr. Lawson.”
“We drove four hours.”
“That doesn’t change his answer.”
“Our furniture is inside.”
“You can remove what you brought in.”
Greg pointed his beer can at me.
“This is exactly why Shawn said we needed to get settled before talking to you.”
The deputy’s head turned slightly.
I stood.
“What did you just say?”
Greg’s mouth remained open for half a second.
Brenda whispered his name.
He looked at her, then at me.
“Nothing.”
“No, Greg.”
I stepped off the porch.
“You said Shawn wanted you settled before talking to me.”
“He figured you’d get emotional.”
“About people taking my house?”
“About change.”
I almost laughed.
It came out as a breath instead.
For years, Greg had treated every disagreement as proof that the other person was irrational.
It was one of his gifts.
Miller asked, “When did your son tell you to move in?”
Greg crushed the beer can in his hand.
“I’m done answering questions.”
“That’s your right.”
“Good.”
“But you still need to remove your property.”
Brenda wiped her cheeks.
“I want to answer.”
Greg stared at her.
“Brenda.”
“No.”
She looked embarrassed by the volume of her own voice.
Then she reached into her purse and took out her phone.
“Shawn told us three weeks ago.”
Greg swore under his breath.
“He said the transfer was finished,” Brenda continued.
“He said Walter had agreed but didn’t want to discuss it because the cabin reminded him of Susan.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I know that now.”
“When were you supposed to tell me you lived here?”
Brenda looked toward the lake.
“I asked that.”
“And?”
“He said you were planning to sell your house and move to Arizona.”
I stared at her.
I had never been to Arizona.
Susan hated dry heat and had once described Phoenix, after a three-day conference, as living inside a hair dryer.
For some reason that memory nearly made me smile.
Then Brenda unlocked her phone.
“There’s more.”
Greg stepped toward her.
“Put that away.”
Miller moved between them without drama.
“Sir, stay where you are.”
Brenda’s hands were shaking now.
She scrolled through a message thread and held the screen toward me.
I saw Shawn’s name at the top.
Below it were photographs of the cabin, instructions about the keypad, and a message telling his parents which bedroom to use.
Then Brenda scrolled farther.
A photograph appeared of a document on a wooden desk.
I recognized the desk immediately.
It was mine.
May you like
Beside the document sat Susan’s old fountain pen, the blue Waterman she had used for birthday cards, tax forms, and every grocery list she wrote after deciding ordinary ballpoints made her handwriting ugly.
The pen had disappeared from my desk sometime after my knee surgery.
