Chapter 4: What the Solicitor Was Holding
His name was Mr.
Fenn, and he had handled the family's legal affairs for nineteen years.
Lauren reached him first.
Gavin followed two steps behind, jacket straightened, jaw set, as though composure were something he could put on quickly enough.
"Mr.
Fenn." Lauren's voice was controlled.
"I'd like to understand what we're dealing with."
"Of course." He opened the leather folder without being asked.
"Would you prefer to do this here or inside?"
"Here." Lauren crossed her arms.
"Whatever my mother-in-law has done, I want to understand its limits.
Is the trust legally binding?"
"It is.
It was executed fourteen months ago, witnessed and filed.
The primary beneficiary for the family home and the Elm Street studio property is named as Clara Voss.
The change was made voluntarily, with full capacity confirmed in writing at the time of signing." He paused.
"There is no viable avenue to contest on the basis of competency."
Gavin said nothing.
"What about the rest of the estate?" Lauren asked.
"The remainder goes to Ruth, as primary surviving spouse, at her full discretion."
"Meaning she controls what happens to it."
"Completely."
Lauren turned slightly.
Ruth was twenty feet away with Clara, both seated now on the low stone edge of the fountain, Ruth's hand resting on the younger woman's shoulder.
"She planned this," Lauren said.
"The whole thing.
The brunch.
The box.
The keys.
She planned it so there would be witnesses."
"I cannot speak to Mrs.
Alderman's intentions," Mr.
Fenn said carefully.
"That's fine.
I can." She turned back to him.
"You said there was a second document."
He hadn't said that.
He held her gaze.
"What makes you think there's a second document?"
"You've been standing here for forty minutes with that folder closed and no glass of champagne in your hand.
You're not a guest.
You're working." She nodded at the folder.
"So what else is in there?"
Mr.
Fenn considered this for a moment.
Then he opened the second section of the folder and removed a smaller envelope, sealed the same way as the first.
Unlike the first, this one had a name on it.
Lauren's name.
Written in a hand she recognized immediately.
Her father-in-law's handwriting.
Douglas.
Her fingers didn't move.
"When was this written?"
"Three weeks before he passed."
"Has Ruth read it?"
"It was addressed to you.
It has not been opened."
Gavin reached for it.
Lauren stopped him with one hand on his arm, not roughly, just firmly.
She took the envelope herself.
She didn't open it.
"He left me a letter," she said.
"He left you a letter," Mr.
Fenn confirmed.
Gavin's voice was low.
"Lauren—"
"Don't." She pressed the envelope flat against her palm.
"I need a minute."
She walked to the far edge of the garden, away from the canopy, away from the guests, away from Ruth and Clara at the fountain.
She stood near a row of tall hedges where the sun came through in thin strips and she stared at her own name written on the front of the envelope.
Douglas had always written her name with a slight curl on the capital L.
She had noticed it at Christmas cards, at birthday notes, at the one time he had left a message on her desk when she worked late.
She had never told anyone she noticed it.
She turned the envelope over.
Then she put it in her bag without opening it.
When she came back, Gavin was still with Mr.
Fenn.
Both of them looked at her.
"I'll read it when I'm ready," she said.
"All right," Gavin said.
She looked at him.
"Did you know he changed the trust?"
A beat too long passed before he answered.
"Gavin." Her voice was very quiet.
"Did you know?"
"I knew he was unhappy with some things.
I didn't know he'd gone that far."
"What things?"
He looked at the table.
"He thought we were…
pulling away.
He mentioned it.
I told him we were busy.
I thought he understood."
"He understood perfectly," Lauren said.
"That's the problem."
Gavin picked up his champagne glass.
He looked at it, then set it back down without drinking.
"We can still talk to her," he said.
"Ruth.
She controls the rest of the estate.
We can explain—"
"Explain what?" Lauren said.
"That we were busy?"
He didn't answer.
She looked across the garden at Ruth, who was laughing now at something Clara had said, a real laugh, the kind that moved her whole body, the kind Lauren had not heard from her in years.
The leather folder was back under Mr.
Fenn's arm.
But Lauren had seen him close it over something that was not the two documents she already knew about.
May you like
There was a third page in there.
She was sure of it.
