The Option Receipt Put A Price On My Brother's Early Mourning

By nine the next morning, I sat in Imogen's office with three ledgers and a dry pair of shoes.

She had brought in another lawyer, Lena Orr, to handle court work for the estate. Imogen would be a witness about the codicil. She said a witness needed her own chair, not both sides of the table.

Lena asked for dates.

"Dad died October third," I said. "The funeral was yesterday. October seventh."

She wrote them in separate boxes.

North Bench's closing officer had emailed the option contract after our call. It gave the company ninety days to buy the quarry for $720,000. The $48,000 option fee would count toward the price.

Warren had signed on October fifth.

Under his name were the words Agent for Ellis Calder.

"Two days after," I said.

"Yes," Lena said.

I remembered where I had been that day. At the funeral home, choosing a plain pine box because Dad had asked me to. Warren had texted that he was tied up with family business.

"Did Dad give him a power of attorney?" Lena asked.

Imogen opened another folder.

"A limited one for land transactions. It ended at Ellis's death. It did not make Warren an executor."

"Did the buyer know Dad was dead?"

"Their officer says Warren told them Ellis was resting at home. They'll give us that in writing."

I looked at the payment page.

Forty-eight thousand dollars. Wired to an account with Warren's name alone on it.

I had paid $286 for flowers because I didn't want Dad's coffin standing bare. Warren had said he would settle his share later.

I took that receipt out of my purse, too. The edges were soft from being carried through the storm.

"This belongs in the funeral expense file," Imogen said.

"I didn't bring it to complain."

"You don't need to complain to keep a record."

She gave me a fresh envelope for the small bills. I had saved every customer receipt for years, yet felt mean about saving proof of what my own family owed. That morning, I began to see how useful that feeling had been to Warren.

Lena turned the contract around.

"Don't call the buyer a thief. They sent money based on what he told them. We need their records."

"I want the men off our stones."

"That's our first request."

While Lena prepared papers, Imogen brought her vault copy to the table. Its wording matched mine. Hers had a small brown spot beside Dad's signature, where he had dripped coffee during the signing. Mine was clean.

Both pages carried the August file code. Both had his initials at the bottom.

Warren's September first page had no initials. His second page showed the same brown spot.

"Could he have copied it from Dad's computer?" I asked.

"I emailed Ellis a scan on August thirteenth," Imogen said. "Warren had access to the computer after the death. That's something we can establish."

She did not say got him. She put a paper clip on a note.

Warren called at eleven.

"You hired another lawyer?"

"The estate did," I said.

"You never even saw Dad's final instructions. You were out there carving flowers."

"I saw what he signed in August."

Silence traveled down the line.

Then he said, "That was before."

"Where's your September original?"

"I'm not having an interrogation. North Bench is ready to build a real operation. I'll give you $60,000 to sign off and stop making trouble."

Sixty thousand was less than one year of our shop's gross sales. He wanted the ground, the machines, and my silence for it.

"Send the offer to Lena."

"I don't know Lena."

"You will."

I ended the call. My hands shook afterward. Imogen pushed a water glass toward me without saying anything about courage.

At noon, Asa brought the order book. He had called all eleven families and told them a property dispute might cause a short delay. Two had offered storage. One had offered lunch.

"Did you tell them about Warren?" I asked.

"I told them their stones were safe with us. That's what they needed."

He placed a folded sheet beside the book.

It was the survey man's contact information. Asa had copied it from the truck door in his photograph. Lena called and learned the crew had been told the shop was empty and all leases had ended.

My lease had another eighteen months to run.

We filed it with the rent checks, the genuine codicil, and my custody receipt. Lena asked the court to preserve the property while the estate papers were reviewed. She sent North Bench a notice to stop work.

By four, we had a hearing date.

Then the closing officer sent one more attachment.

North Bench had recorded a notice of its option against the quarry tract that morning. Warren's bad promise now sat in the county records, where any future buyer or lender could find it.