Chapter 2 - THE WILL MY FATHER THOUGHT WOULD SAVE HIM
My father was the first to recover.
“Harold signed another will.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Which will?”
“The one from 2009.”
He reached into his jacket and produced a folded document.
My mother immediately nodded.
“Yes. Dad promised the house would remain with his daughter.”
Rebecca examined the pages without appearing particularly surprised.
“I'm familiar with this document.”
Dad smiled.
“Then you understand.”
“I understand that it predates the living trust and the later transfer of the property.”
His smile weakened.
Rebecca explained that Grandpa's earlier will had been superseded by more recent estate-planning documents. The house was already titled in the trust, so waving an older will did not give my parents the right to take possession.
Dad's expression darkened.
“Harold wasn't thinking clearly during his final years.”
The words struck me harder than I expected.
Grandpa had remained mentally sharp almost until the end.
He could remember every neighbor's birthday, every repair he'd ever made to the house, and the exact location of a misplaced screwdriver.
His body had failed.
His mind hadn't.
Rebecca calmly opened another folder.
“Harold anticipated a challenge to his capacity. His estate-planning file includes independent medical evaluations, contemporaneous legal notes, and documentation of his intentions.”
Mom folded her arms.
“Emily manipulated him.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You were living here. You controlled his meals, his medication, his visitors. Who knows what you told him?”
The accusation almost knocked the breath out of me.
I had spent years helping Grandpa because I loved him.
Apparently my mother considered that suspicious.
Rebecca's voice became firm.
“Diane, I suggest you stop making accusations without evidence.”
Dad pointed toward the movers.
“We paid a deposit. We're not sending them away.”
“Then you'll need to arrange alternative storage for your belongings.”
Brianna came downstairs carrying one of Grandpa's expensive watches.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Put that back.”
She scoffed.
“Why? Everything here can't belong to you.”
Rebecca extended her hand.
“The watch is an estate asset. Please return it.”
Brianna looked toward Mom for help.
Mom said nothing.
Slowly, my sister surrendered the watch.
I had never seen her embarrassed before.
Then Dad moved closer to Rebecca and lowered his voice.
“You don't understand. We need to complete the transfer immediately.”
Rebecca's eyes narrowed.
“What transfer?”
He stopped.
Mom turned sharply toward him.
“Richard.”
Too late.
I looked between them.
“What transfer?”
Dad forced a smile.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Rebecca wasn't smiling.
“Mr. Parker, have you represented to anyone that you own this property?”
Silence.
Then a car pulled into the driveway.
A black luxury sedan.
A woman in a navy business suit stepped out carrying a document case.
Dad looked toward the window.
His face went pale.
The woman approached the front door and introduced herself.
“Claire Lawson. Northstar Development.”
I had never heard of the company.
Rebecca apparently had.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Lawson?”
Claire looked at my father.
“I'm here to discuss the Whitmore property acquisition.”
My mouth went dry.
“What acquisition?”
Claire glanced at the moving truck, then at me.
“Mr. Parker told us his family would be taking possession following Harold Whitmore's death.”
Rebecca became completely still.
“Did he sign an agreement?”
Claire hesitated.
“Yes.”
“For how much?”
“Eight million, four hundred thousand dollars, subject to title and other closing conditions.”
I gripped the banister.
Eight million dollars.
For Grandpa's house and the surrounding land.
My parents hadn't returned because they wanted to reconnect with their daughter.
They had returned because they thought Grandpa's death had finally delivered a fortune.
But Claire wasn't finished.
She turned toward Dad.
“Richard, there's another issue. Our accounting department has been unable to reconcile the three-hundred-thousand-dollar advance paid to your company.”
My mother closed her eyes.
Rebecca slowly turned toward my father.
“What advance?”
He didn't answer.
Claire's expression hardened.
“The money was supposed to be refundable if the transaction couldn't proceed.”
May you like
She paused.
“And my company wants it back.”
