PART 4
I swallowed. “I don’t want shouting. I don’t want ugliness. Robert hated scenes.”
“He did,” Arthur said. “But he did not hate justice.”
He slid the first document toward me.
“This is the Brooks Family Revocable Trust, amended eight months ago and restated three weeks ago. Upon Robert’s passing, you became sole trustee and primary beneficiary.”
I looked at the page.
Words blurred, then sharpened.
Sole trustee.
Primary beneficiary.
“Matthew does not inherit the house?” I asked.
“No. Not now.”
Arthur turned another page.
“The Dallas residence remains in trust for your lifetime use and control. You may live there, lease it, sell it, or restrict access to it. Matthew has no ownership claim during your lifetime.”
The room grew very quiet.
I thought of my suitcases by the garage door.
Jennifer’s red nails tapping against her folded arm.
Matthew’s silence.
My grandson Jack’s small face, confused and frightened.
Olivia whispering, “Mom, don’t talk to Grandma like that.”
“My daughter-in-law changed the locks on the upstairs bedroom,” I said.
Arthur’s mouth tightened. “Then she will be asked to restore access immediately.”
“There’s more,” I said.
He waited.
May you like
I told him about Jennifer’s insistence that I help around the house. About the way she had started calling me “dependent” in front of the children months ago, softly at first, then with more confidence after Robert grew weaker. About the missing mail. About bank statements that stopped arriving. About the afternoon I found Jennifer in Robert’s study, closing his desk drawer too quickly.
