Chapter 6 - THE AGREEMENT BEFORE THE FUNERAL
Callum stared at his own handwriting.
“I forgot about that.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I mean I hadn’t thought about it in years.”
“What does ‘Do not file until Deline agrees’ mean?”
He sat down.
Three weeks after Everett died, the family had met with an estate attorney.
The trust amendment required Deline’s lifetime advances to be deducted from her share.
According to Callum, his mother had panicked.
She said enforcing it would destroy the family.
Deline cried.
Mason accused Everett of punishing them from the grave.
Callum’s mother begged him to find another way.
“So you delayed filing?”
“I asked the attorney whether distribution could wait.”
“For how long?”
“Until everyone agreed.”
“Did everyone ever agree?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“Mom began making informal distributions.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You handled some of the paperwork.”
“I didn’t handle all of it.”
I opened Everett’s folder again.
“What did you handle?”
Callum leaned back and covered his face.
The answer took nearly a minute.
“I transferred one account.”
“How much?”
“Ninety thousand.”
“To whom?”
“Deline.”
I stared at him.
“You gave your sister ninety thousand dollars from an estate document that said her prior advances had to be deducted.”
“Mom directed it.”
“You knew what Dad’s amendment said.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Deline said the shop would fail.”
There it was.
The flower shop again.
The business that had swallowed money from grandparents, parents, lenders, and apparently anyone whose signature could be reached.
“Did she repay it?”
“No.”
“Did your mother tell the estate attorney?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means no.”
Callum looked exhausted.
“I was trying to keep Mom from falling apart.”
“And who was trying to keep you from falling apart?”
He looked at me.
For years I had been that person.
Quietly.
I handled taxes.
School forms.
Insurance renewals.
Home repairs.
Doctor appointments.
I thought I was building a stable marriage with a gentle man.
Instead, I had become the clean side of a life where he repeatedly absorbed his sister’s chaos and hid the cost from me.
At 4:12 in the morning, I photographed every page.
At 7:30, I drove Renley to school.
At 8:15, I sat across from an attorney named Claire Donnelly.
She read the first three documents without interrupting.
Then she removed her glasses.
“You have two separate problems.”
“Financial and marital?”
“Financial and potentially fraudulent.”
My stomach dropped.
She tapped the guarantee bearing my signature.
“If the obligation materially changed after you signed, and those changes were renewed without informed consent, we need the original records.”
Then she touched the cabin documents.
“And this one concerns me more.”
“Why?”
May you like
“Because your husband may not have been the only person signing things in your household.”
---
