PART 12 — THE WILL THAT NEVER REACHED PROBATE
“Bring him up.”
Scott stood immediately.
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“No?”
“You shouldn’t talk to Richard without Evelyn here.”
Five minutes earlier, he had been trying to stop me from calling Evelyn.
Now he was worried about protecting me.
Interesting.
“Sit down, Scott.”
“Ma, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
The credit union’s attorney stepped toward the door.
“I’ll meet Mr. Cole in the lobby first.”
I nodded.
Before he left, I said, “And please tell him one thing.”
“What?”
“If he brought anything for me to sign, he can save the ink.”
Scott looked away.
The attorney almost smiled.
Then he left.
Rebecca sat beside me.
Not close enough to touch.
But closer than before.
I noticed.
I wondered if she did.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I looked at Raymond.
“Did you know there was another will?”
“No.”
“Caroline?”
Her voice came through the phone.
“I knew Daniel had changed something near the end. I didn’t know what.”
Scott muttered, “This is insane.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“You keep saying that whenever another document appears.”
He glared at her.
“You’ve known this family for five minutes.”
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“I’ve spent forty-two years living with what this family did.”
Scott had no answer.
A knock came at the door.
The attorney returned.
Richard Cole entered behind him.
He was perhaps sixty.
Gray suit.
Silver hair.
Expensive briefcase.
The kind of man who looked like he had never once arrived anywhere without knowing exactly where he would sit.
But when he saw Scott, his confidence disappeared.
“Why is he here?”
Scott snapped, “Why are you here?”
Richard ignored him.
He looked at me.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Richard Cole.”
“I gathered.”
He set his briefcase on the table.
“I represented your husband in certain private matters.”
“Apparently everyone did except me.”
His mouth tightened.
Fair enough.
He sat.
“I understand you have questions.”
“I have forty-two years’ worth.”
He glanced at Rebecca.
Then Raymond.
When he saw Raymond, something changed in his eyes.
“Ray.”
Raymond nodded.
“Richard.”
They knew each other.
Of course they did.
I was beginning to feel like the only person at my own family reunion who had not received an invitation.
I pointed to his briefcase.
“Show me the will.”
Richard hesitated.
“I need to explain something first.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Bennett—”
“Every person in this room has spent today explaining things before showing me what belongs to me.”
I held out my hand.
“The will.”
He studied me.
Then opened his briefcase.
Inside was a thick envelope.
My husband’s handwriting was across the front.
For Margaret. Original.
My throat tightened.
I knew that handwriting.
Forty-six years of grocery lists.
Birthday cards.
Notes on the refrigerator.
I reached for it.
Richard stopped me.
“Before you open it, you should understand that this document may create serious legal issues.”
“More serious than someone forging my signature?”
He glanced at Scott.
“No.”
“More serious than hiding my daughter from me for forty-two years?”
His eyes dropped.
“No.”
“Then I think I’ll manage.”
He released the envelope.
I opened it.
The will was dated eleven months before Daniel died.
The will used during probate had been dated seven years earlier.
I looked at Richard.
“You prepared this?”
“Yes.”
“Was Daniel competent?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone witness it?”
“Two witnesses and a notary.”
“Then why wasn’t it filed?”
Richard looked at Scott.
Scott stood.
“Don’t.”
I looked between them.
“Don’t what?”
Richard’s voice became quiet.
“Your son told me you had destroyed it.”
I turned toward Scott.
He stared at Richard.
“You promised me—”
Richard interrupted.
“I promised your father.”
Silence.
Scott’s face changed.
Richard continued.
“Daniel instructed me that if there was ever evidence Margaret’s finances were being misused, I was to deliver the original directly to her.”
I almost stopped breathing.
“My husband expected this?”
“Not specifically.”
“Then what did he expect?”
Richard looked uncomfortable.
“He was afraid Scott might repeat his mistakes.”
Scott laughed bitterly.
“That’s rich.”
I looked at him.
“What mistakes?”
“Ask your saint of a husband.”
“I can’t. He’s dead.”
That ended it.
I turned back to the will.
The first pages were ordinary.
House.
Personal belongings.
Accounts.
Then I reached Bennett Property Holdings.
My heart began pounding.
Daniel had left his controlling interest to me.
Not Scott.
Not both children.
Me.
Fifty-one percent.
Scott received twenty-four and a half percent.
My daughter, Laura, received twenty-four and a half percent.
I looked up.
“Laura owns part of this?”
Scott’s face tightened.
“She doesn’t know.”
Of course she didn’t.
My daughter lived three states away.
Scott always said she didn’t understand financial matters.
Apparently ignorance was his favorite family investment strategy.
“Does Laura receive distributions?”
Richard asked.
“She should.”
I looked at Scott.
“Does she?”
“No.”
“Where do they go?”
He didn’t answer.
Richard looked sharply at him.
“Scott.”
“I reinvested them.”
“Into what?”
“The company.”
Rebecca opened Thomas’s ledger.
“No, you didn’t.”
Scott turned toward her.
She pointed to several entries.
“These show distributions allocated to Daniel’s heirs.”
Richard leaned over.
His face darkened.
“How much?”
Rebecca gave him the ledger.
He read.
Then looked at Scott.
“Where is Laura’s money?”
Scott said nothing.
My stomach twisted.
“How much?”
Richard calculated quickly.
“Based on these entries alone, approximately $286,000.”
I closed my eyes.
Another child.
Another lie.
Scott had not just taken from me.
He had taken from his sister too.
“Does Laura know any of this?”
“No.”
I reached for my phone.
Scott stepped forward.
“Ma, don’t call her yet.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“She’ll panic.”
“No, Scott.”
I dialed.
“You’ll panic.”
Laura answered on the fourth ring.
“Mom?”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Is everything okay?”
I looked at Scott.
“No.”
His face hardened.
“But it will be.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need you to come home.”
“When?”
“As soon as you can.”
There was a pause.
“Is this about Scott?”
He closed his eyes.
Laura’s voice changed.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then my daughter said something that silenced the room.
“I’ve been waiting for this call.”
I gripped the phone.
“What?”
Scott looked up.
Laura continued.
“Did you finally find Dad’s letter?”
“What letter?”
Silence.
“Oh.”
Her voice dropped.
“You didn’t.”
I looked at Richard.
He frowned.
“What letter, Laura?”
“The one Dad sent me before he died.”
Scott went completely still.
I watched him.
“When?”
“About two weeks before he died.”
“What did it say?”
Laura hesitated.
“He told me if anything happened to him, I wasn’t supposed to let Scott control your money.”
Nobody moved.
I stared at my son.
“You knew about this?”
“No.”
Laura heard me.
“Scott’s there?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
I did.
Laura’s voice filled the room.
“Hi, Scott.”
He said nothing.
“Want to tell Mom why you called me the day after Dad died?”
His jaw tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me Dad had been confused at the end.”
“I said he was on medication.”
“You told me to throw away anything he mailed me.”
Scott’s face reddened.
“I was trying to spare you.”
Laura laughed once.
“Funny. You were always sparing everyone from paperwork.”
I almost smiled.
She continued.
“I didn’t throw the letter away.”
Scott’s eyes widened.
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
Laura went quiet.
Then:
“Dad said there were two things he regretted more than anything he’d done in his life.”
My throat tightened.
“One was Rebecca.”
Rebecca froze.
Laura continued.
“And the other was what he did to Thomas.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She gripped the edge of the table.
“What did he do?”
“Dad didn’t explain everything in the letter.”
My disappointment must have been audible.
“But he included a number.”
“What number?”
“A storage unit.”
Richard straightened.
“Where?”
“Fairview Storage. Unit 317.”
Caroline suddenly spoke from Scott’s phone.
“Oh my God.”
I turned toward it.
“What?”
“Thomas told me Daniel kept records somewhere I couldn’t find.”
Scott grabbed his jacket.
Rebecca stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
But his face told us otherwise.
Laura continued through my phone.
“Mom, Dad also included a key.”
My heart quickened.
“You have it?”
“Yes.”
“When can you get here?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Scott shook his head.
“No. Absolutely not.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whatever is in that unit should go through lawyers.”
Richard stared at him.
“You didn’t feel that way about the forged power of attorney.”
Scott’s face hardened.
Then the credit union attorney’s phone buzzed.
He read a message.
His expression changed.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“What?”
“Our fraud department has finished an initial review of the power of attorney metadata.”
Scott stopped moving.
“What did they find?”
“The document was uploaded from an IP address associated with Bennett Property Holdings.”
I looked at Scott.
He stared back.
“That proves nothing.”
The attorney continued.
“There is also a user identifier attached to the submission.”
Scott’s breathing changed.
“Whose?” I asked.
The attorney looked at him.
“Melissa Bennett.”
My daughter-in-law.
Scott’s wife.
I felt no surprise this time.
Only exhaustion.
Then Richard leaned back slowly.
“If Melissa submitted a forged power of attorney, the sale agreement may be the least of their problems.”
Scott’s phone started ringing.
He looked at the screen.
Melissa.
Nobody spoke.
It rang again.
And again.
Finally, I said,
“Answer it.”
Scott shook his head.
“Answer your wife.”
He pressed the button.
“Melissa—”
She didn’t let him finish.
Her voice came through loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Scott, we have a problem.”
His face went white.
“What happened?”
“Someone accessed the company archive.”
Rebecca looked at me.
Richard straightened.
Scott asked, “What archive?”
“The old server.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Melissa said the sentence that changed Scott’s face completely.
“They downloaded everything.”
Scott stood.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Who has access?”
“Only us.”
A pause.
Then another voice came through Melissa’s end of the call.
A man’s voice.
Old.
Weak.
But unmistakably amused.
“No, Scott.”
Rebecca’s hand flew to her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
I looked at her.
“Who is that?”
She whispered one word.
“Thomas.”
The old man’s voice came through the phone again.
“Not only you.”
Scott looked like he had seen a ghost.
Thomas Reed—the man my husband had betrayed, the man who raised my daughter, the man everyone believed was dying quietly in hospice—had just accessed the records Scott thought belonged only to him.
Then Thomas said:
“Margaret, if you’re there, tell Laura to bring the key tomorrow.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Thomas?”
A long silence.
Then his voice softened.
“Hello, Maggie.”
My eyes filled.
“I’ve waited forty-two years to say this.”
I could barely breathe.
“What?”
“Your husband didn’t steal the land from me.”
I looked at Rebecca.
At Raymond.
At Scott.
“Then what did he steal?”
Thomas coughed.
When he answered, every person in the room went still.
“Your name.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas took a slow breath.
“The sixty acres were never mine, Maggie.”
Another pause.
“They were yours.”
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