Chapter 2 - The Letter in the Lawyer’s Bag
Edmund’s attorney arrived at the hospital shortly after nine.
Celia March wore a raincoat over a navy suit and carried a briefcase old enough to have earned its own retirement. She had known Edmund for thirty-one years and had never once called Hannah sweetheart.
Tonight, that alone nearly made Hannah cry.
“I understand there’s been a difficult evening.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Celia sat beside her.
Rocco stood when the attorney approached.
“I brought the letter.”
“Thank you. May I have a moment with Hannah?”
He handed over the envelope and walked to the vending machines without argument.
Hannah watched him go.
Celia noticed.
“You’re allowed to ask questions about him.”
“I have several.”
“Start with the ones about tonight.”
Hannah explained Mr. Pell’s collapse, the unpaid paycheck, Marlene’s accusation, and the duffel bag on the steps.
Celia listened without interrupting.
Then she took out a notebook.
“Did your grandfather ever tell you I was named executor under his existing estate plan?”
Hannah shook her head.
“He said you’d explain things when it was time.”
“He was correct.”
“Marlene says the will is being read Friday. Immediate family only.”
“Your aunt does not decide who receives information about the estate.”
Something loosened slightly in Hannah’s chest.
Celia continued carefully.
“Your grandfather signed documents with my office before his health declined significantly. A more recent document has now been presented through your aunt’s attorney. I have questions about it.”
“What questions?”
“Whether it was properly executed. Whether it reflects his wishes. Whether the circumstances described by its witnesses are accurate.”
Hannah stared at her.
“Marlene changed his will?”
“I’m not going to state something we haven’t established.”
It was less satisfying than certainty.
It was also the first answer all day that Hannah trusted completely.
Celia opened Rocco’s envelope.
Inside lay Edmund’s Christmas letter.
The handwriting sloped unevenly across the page.
Hannah recognized the shape of his capital H, the way he crossed out a word instead of erasing it.
Her eyes blurred.
“Would you like to read it now?” Celia asked.
Hannah nodded.
Most of the letter concerned ordinary things.
The weather.
A football game Edmund had fallen asleep watching.
Rocco’s mother, whose birthday Edmund still remembered.
Then came Hannah’s name.
My granddaughter has put her own life on hold without ever calling it a sacrifice. I worry that I’ve let her become the person everybody expects to manage without help.
Hannah pressed her fingers to her mouth.
There was more.
If she ever thinks she was forgotten, show her this. I have made arrangements with Celia. I wish I had made better arrangements while I was still able to get out of this chair.
She stopped reading.
Celia let her cry.
Across the waiting area, Rocco stood beside a vending machine holding a cup of coffee he had forgotten to drink.
He did not come over.
Eventually, Hannah wiped her face.
“What arrangements?”
“We’ll review the documents together. Not in a hallway while you’re frightened and exhausted.”
“I don’t have money for a lawyer.”
“As executor, my responsibilities are to the estate. You may also want independent advice. I can give you names without choosing for you.”
Hannah nodded.
Then she remembered Mr. Pell.
“He said he saw someone go into the study.”
“We’ll speak with him when the medical staff says he’s well enough.”
“And the visitor records? Rocco’s man was photographing the condolence book.”
Celia’s expression tightened.
She asked Rocco to return.
He listened while Hannah repeated the question.
“Edmund asked me months ago to help Celia locate household records if there was a dispute,” he said. “The book was being compared with records the estate already had. Not private hospital files.”
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Your man said he was working. Like I didn’t deserve an explanation.”
Rocco looked directly at her.
“That was wrong. I’ll address it.”
“I’m asking you.”
He nodded.
“Then I’m sorry.”
No smile.
No attempt to make the apology charming.
Just the words.
A nurse approached carrying an envelope.
“Mr. Pell insisted we give this back to you.”
Hannah recognized her four hundred dollars.
“He says you can help him argue about it tomorrow.”
She laughed shakily.
Celia helped her arrange a nearby hotel for two nights while they discussed longer-term options. Rocco offered to cover it.
Hannah hesitated.
“No conditions,” he said.
“I want the amount written down.”
“Then we’ll write it down.”
Before she left, Celia checked one final document on her tablet.
Her face changed.
“What?” Hannah asked.
The attorney turned the screen.
A financial summary listed monthly payments for Edmund’s home care.
Beside the payee field appeared Hannah’s full name.
Fourteen thousand dollars a month.
Hannah stared.
“I never received that.”
May you like
Celia closed the tablet.
“Then tomorrow,” she said, “we start finding out who did.”
