Chương 5
Mark turned the vent away.
Three blocks later she said, “Your father hated that too.”
Mark smiled despite himself.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. He complained to me, not you.”
The smile disappeared.
Eleanor looked out the window.
“That was his mistake.”
The attorney’s office occupied the ninth floor of an old brick building overlooking the river. Priya Shah was in her early forties, with rectangular glasses and a desk so clean Mark distrusted it.
She shook Eleanor’s hand.
Then Mark’s.
“Mrs. Bennett asked that you attend the first part.”
Mark sat.
Eleanor placed the red folder on the desk.
Priya reviewed the power of attorney.
“You can revoke this immediately.”
“I want to.”
“We can prepare the revocation today. We’ll also notify institutions where it may have been used.”
Eleanor nodded.
“What about the trust?”
Priya read the amendment.
Mark watched her expression.
Lawyers, he had learned, were good at making paper look interesting.
Finally she said, “I’d like to review the full trust before giving you an opinion.”
Eleanor had brought it.
Of course she had.
Priya spent nearly twenty minutes reading.
Mark stared through the window at traffic.
When she finished, she removed her glasses.
“The apartment is owned by the trust. Mrs. Bennett is the current trustee and primary beneficiary. Mark and Rachel have a conditional right of occupancy.”
Rachel’s name sounded strange in the room without her.
Priya continued.
“If Mrs. Bennett permanently ceases to use the apartment as her principal residence voluntarily, the trust directs the property eventually to Mark and Laura in equal interests, subject to several conditions.”
Mark looked at his mother.
Priya tapped another page.
“But involuntary removal is addressed separately.”
“What does that mean?” Mark asked.
“It means your mother was correct yesterday. If someone holding an occupancy interest attempts to force her from the residence without her written consent, the trustee can terminate that person’s occupancy interest.”
Mark felt heat rise in his neck.
“Can she evict us?”
Priya looked at Eleanor rather than him.
“Potentially.”
Eleanor said nothing.
Mark leaned back.
“Mom.”
Priya raised a hand gently.
“There are procedural questions. I’m not advising anyone to do anything today.”
Eleanor looked at Mark.
“Neither am I.”
That frightened him more.
Priya prepared the revocation.
Eleanor signed it.
Mark watched his authority disappear beneath six strokes of a black pen.
He expected to feel insulted.
Instead he felt relieved.
It surprised him enough that he laughed quietly.
Both women looked at him.
“Sorry.”
“What’s funny?” Eleanor asked.
“I don’t know.”
She studied him.
Then she gave a small nod.
Humans did strange things when pressure left a room.
Outside the building, Eleanor asked for coffee.
Mark checked the time.
“I have work.”
“So go.”
He hesitated.
“You want coffee?”
“I said I did.”
“I can stay ten minutes.”
“You’re forty-seven years old. You don’t need permission.”
They went to a café on the corner.
Eleanor ordered decaf.
Mark ordered regular and immediately regretted it because his stomach had been tight since yesterday.
They sat by the window.
For several minutes they said nothing.
A college student at the next table was trying to repair the hinge of his glasses with tape. Each attempt made the glasses look worse.
Eleanor watched him.
“Your father would’ve offered a screwdriver.”
Mark smiled.
“He carried one.”
“He carried six. That man thought civilization depended on flatheads.”
Mark looked at his coffee.
“Did Dad know about the clause?”
“He requested it.”
Mark looked up.
“Why?”
Eleanor stirred her coffee though she had added nothing.
“Because his mother was moved into a nursing home against her wishes.”
“I never knew that.”
“You were eight.”
“Did you agree with him?”
“Yes.”
“Even for me?”
“Especially for you.”
He frowned.
Eleanor looked out at the rain.
“Your father loved you. He also knew you hated conflict.”
Mark said nothing.
“He worried that one day somebody stronger than you would make a decision and you’d call your silence compromise.”
Mark felt his jaw tighten.
“That sounds like him.”
“It does.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I thought I had.”
“No. You gave me paperwork.”
Eleanor considered that.
“That’s fair.”
He looked at her.
She took a sip of coffee.
“I made mistakes too, Mark.”
He waited.
She did not continue.
“Such as?”
“I’m not making you a list.”
“You make Rachel lists.”
“That may be one of them.”
He laughed despite himself.
Eleanor almost smiled.
Then the quiet returned.
Mark said, “She really is miserable.”
“I know.”
“You act like you don’t.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Eleanor looked down at her hands.
Her wedding ring was still there.
She had never removed it.
“When I sold my house, I thought I was giving up a building.”
Mark waited.
“It turned out I gave up being the person whose rules mattered.”
“You chose to move in.”
“Yes.”
“You said you wanted to.”
“I did.”
“Then why punish Rachel?”
Eleanor’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
She stared at the street.
A bus passed, spraying water along the curb.
Finally she said, “Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
He almost laughed.
She looked at him.
“Is that answer reserved for you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She folded the paper sleeve from her coffee cup into a narrow strip.
“Your wife buys terrible tomatoes.”
Mark blinked.
“What?”
“She does.”
“Mom.”
“I’m trying to be honest.”
“That’s not relevant.”
“It’s very relevant when you eat them.”
He shook his head.
She folded the strip again.
Then she said, “She changed everything.”
There it was.
Not accusation.
Not even anger.
Just fact.
“After your father died, you called every evening. Then you married Rachel and called twice a week. Then once. You bought this place. You had work. She had work. You went places. I was happy for you.”
She folded the paper smaller.
“And jealous.”
Mark looked at her.
Eleanor shrugged.
“Ugly, but true.”
He had never heard his mother admit jealousy.
“She didn’t take me away from you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
May you like
“Some days.”
He sat back.
