Tobias Remembered The Signature My Aunt Wanted Him To Forget

At the next hearing, Eunhee's lawyer asked Tobias whether he often forgot things.

"Yes," Tobias said.

My aunt folded her hands.

"Appointments?"

"Sometimes."

"Names?"

"Less often than spectacles."

No one laughed. Tobias looked at the judge, then back at the lawyer.

"Do you recall the signing independently, or have you studied the papers to prepare?"

"Both. I checked the register. I also remember Mr. Yoon finding a mistake."

"What mistake?"

"The first draft said thirty-five models. He said the little pilot boat counted, even though it fit in his palm. Mr. Pike corrected the list before anyone signed."

Mara put the draft and final list side by side.

There was the correction.

I had repaired that pilot boat's rudder with a needle cut short enough to fit inside its hull. I could almost feel the tool between my fingers.

"Who was present?" Mara asked.

Tobias named Grandpa, the lawyer Edwin Pike, the second witness Nora Lane, and himself.

"Was Ms. Yoon there?"

"No. She was teaching a repair class in New London. Her father was being very secretive about paying her."

"Her grandfather," Mara said gently.

"Her grandfather. I knew her father too."

He corrected himself without shame. I loved him for it.

Nora, Grandpa's former bookkeeper, testified next. She described his instructions. The archive was to remain open two days a week. My work would be paid once I took on its care as trustee. The rate had come from two local estimates for similar work.

Edwin Pike appeared by video from his retirement apartment. He had his notes in date order.

"I met privately with Mr. Yoon twice," he said. "He explained his property, his family, and the purpose of the trust. He gave the instructions himself."

Eunhee's lawyer asked whether illness could affect judgment.

"It can," Edwin said. "He answered my questions clearly on both visits."

Mara asked about a letter to Eunhee.

The lawyer turned one page.

"Mr. Yoon asked me to send her the signed amendment. He wanted no misunderstanding about the ships."

My aunt looked down.

The receipt showed her signature. Her reply was attached.

I knew that slanted handwriting. She had used it on birthday cards that came with advice about my weight, my rent, and my lack of a husband.

Mara read the relevant sentence.

"I understand your decision, though I believe a daughter should come before a granddaughter."

One sentence could not have made it clearer.

She had known.

When I took the witness chair, the lawyer asked why I had worked for free.

"Because I loved him," I said. "And because I thought there would be time to arrange a wage."

"You expected to benefit later?"

"I hoped to keep the work going."

"That wasn't my question."

I looked at the judge.

"I didn't ask him for the boathouse or the collection. I did ask who would pay the insurance when he couldn't. He told me he had made a plan."

Mara showed my repair logs, my outside invoices, and the class roster from the signing day. Dates were easier than defending my whole life.

One invoice covered a fishing boat model I had cleaned for $640. Eunhee had called that job a hobby when I told her about it. Now the payment date helped show where I had been. I watched the clerk mark the exhibit and felt that small piece of work finally take up its proper space.

Then she offered the advance invoice.

Eunhee's lawyer objected that a sales dispute was separate from whether the amendment was valid.

The judge allowed questions about Eunhee's claim of authority and ordered fuller records before deciding what further relief was proper.

My aunt took the chair after me.

"I expected to inherit," she said.

"After receiving the amendment?" Mara asked.

"Father changed his mind often."

"Do you have a later signed change?"

"I have his will."

"The will predates the amendment."

Eunhee pulled at one pearl until the string showed between the beads.

The judge kept the collection protected and left me in place while reviewing the challenge. She directed the parties to produce the consignment contract and records of the advance.

There was still no final ruling. But Eunhee no longer spoke as if Friday belonged to her.

In the hall, she waited until Tobias walked ahead.

"You enjoyed that," she said.

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"I wanted to be fixing a rudder."

Her face changed. For a second, she seemed unable to picture a thing worth wanting that she had never wanted herself.

Two mornings later, Mara received the bank records produced through counsel.

Of the $42,000 advance, $23,300 remained. The other $18,700 had gone to a rented hall, catering, and printed invitations.

The event name on the largest payment was The Eunhee Choi Maritime Collection.