Chương 3
As if her continued existence had become an administrative problem.
Brooke came on the line two minutes later.
There were retirement communities north of the city. One had a gym. One had “lovely grounds.” Another had staff available twenty-four hours.
“You wouldn’t have to worry about maintenance,” Brooke said.
“I don’t worry about maintenance.”
“You had the gutter issue.”
“A branch clogged the gutter.”
“Exactly.”
Suzanne had stared at the refrigerator.
A photograph of Matthew at sixteen was held there by a magnet from Yellowstone. He was sunburned, furious about something, and eating an ice cream sandwich.
“What happens to the money from the house?”
Brooke had hesitated.
Only slightly.
“Well, obviously it would fund your care.”
“And the rest?”
“Whatever makes the most sense.”
“For whom?”
Brooke laughed.
A small social laugh.
“Suzanne, nobody’s trying to take your money.”
Suzanne had not accused her.
That was the moment she called Vance.
The blue kettle began to whistle.
Suzanne turned off the burner.
When she returned with a tray, Neil was gone.
Brooke stood at the window with her back to everyone.
Matthew remained on the sofa.
Vance had moved the sale papers into one pile and the trust papers into another. The sealed envelope lay in front of him.
Suzanne set down the tea.
“Chamomile,” she said.
Nobody thanked her.
She sat in Daniel’s chair again.
Vance looked at Matthew.
“Would you like to read this now?”
Matthew stared at the envelope.
“No.”
Brooke turned.
“Yes.”
Matthew looked at her.
“I said no.”
“This involves me too.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Her face changed.
It was the first time he had contradicted her that morning.
Brooke turned toward Suzanne.
“I’m his wife.”
Suzanne picked up her tea.
“And?”
Brooke laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“And his inheritance affects our life.”
Matthew flinched.
Brooke saw that too.
“For God’s sake, stop looking at me like that. We are married. We share finances.”
Matthew rubbed his mouth.
Vance looked at Suzanne again.
She had told him the envelope was Matthew’s to open.
She would not change that because Brooke was impatient.
Matthew finally reached for it.
He stopped before touching it.
“Did Dad write this?”
“No,” Suzanne said.
His fingers withdrew.
“Then what is it?”
“A copy of the trust amendment.”
Brooke stepped closer.
“What amendment?”
Suzanne looked at her son.
“Matthew.”
He met her eyes.
“You were named as successor trustee of the family holdings eight years ago.”
His brow tightened.
“What?”
“After your father’s surgery.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“No.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
“He planned to.”
Suzanne looked down at her tea.
The steam had already thinned.
“Then he got sick again.”
Daniel’s first heart surgery had been expected.
His death three years later had not.
There had been a January morning, an ambulance, a paper cup in an emergency-room hallway, and a cardiologist who kept saying “I’m sorry” as though repetition could make language useful.
Matthew had arrived forty-three minutes after Daniel died.
Suzanne had watched her son walk through automatic doors carrying his motorcycle helmet, still wearing his office badge.
He had looked at her face.
Then at the closed treatment-room door.
Then back at her.
He had not asked.
He had simply sat on the floor.
For two years afterward, they had been close.
That was the part Suzanne had been unable to reconcile with the man sitting across from her now.
Brooke broke the silence.
“So he inherits the ranch?”
Vance’s eyes moved toward her.
“That is not what Suzanne said.”
“She said family holdings.”
“Brooke,” Matthew murmured.
“What? We need clarity.”
Suzanne almost admired the persistence.
Brooke believed clarity was what happened when other people surrendered their privacy.
Suzanne placed the cup down.
“The prior arrangement would have made Matthew responsible for the ranch and most of the trust assets after my death.”
Brooke stared at him.
Matthew stared at Suzanne.
“Most?”
“Yes.”
“How much is most?”
“Does it matter right this second?”
His face reddened.
“No. I just—”
He stopped.
Suzanne waited.
He looked down.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s all right.”
Brooke did.
“You changed it.”
Suzanne turned toward her.
“What?”
“The amendment.”
Brooke pointed at the envelope.
“You changed the inheritance.”
Vance sat back.
Suzanne could feel him deliberately removing himself from the exchange.
Good.
This part belonged to her.
“Yes.”
Brooke’s arms fell to her sides.
“So this whole thing was a test.”
“No.”
“You changed a forty-million-dollar inheritance because we suggested assisted living?”
Matthew stood.
“Brooke, stop.”
“No, you stop. You didn’t even know this existed.”
“That’s the point.”
“What is?”
He looked at her.
For once, the answer came quickly.
“That I didn’t know.”
Brooke’s mouth opened.
Matthew continued.
“I thought she had the house and maybe some retirement savings.”
“So did I.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“It sounds like you are.”
“I’m blaming me.”
That silenced the room.
Suzanne watched her son cross to the fireplace.
He put one hand on the mantel.
Daniel had built the mantel himself during a period of unreasonable confidence involving power tools.
The right side was half an inch lower than the left.
Matthew had once offered to fix it.
Daniel refused.
“Then I’d lose the memory of how stupid I was,” he had said.
Now Matthew stared at the crooked wood.
“Did you think I wanted your money?” he asked.
Suzanne considered the question.
“No.”
He turned.
The answer seemed to hurt him more than yes would have.
“Then what?”
“I thought you wanted the inconvenience of me solved.”
His jaw tightened.
“That isn’t fair.”
“No.”
She held his gaze.
“It probably isn’t.”
Brooke made a small sound of disbelief.
Suzanne ignored her.
Matthew pushed away from the mantel.
“You fell in the backyard last year.”
“I slipped.”
“You were alone.”
“I stood up.”
“You didn’t tell me for two days.”
“Because I bruised my hip, Matthew. I did not lose consciousness in a ditch.”
“You couldn’t walk right.”
May you like
“For three days.”
“You stopped driving at night.”
