The First Hearing Stopped A Royalty Check From Leaving Town

The missing payment was $18,240.

A second seed company had sent $10,400 to the same bank account, which Renata called the estate account. Both had received a letter from Renata saying Celia's death made the trust instructions void.

The third company had stopped its $8,920 payment when June's notice arrived.

"Don't call her," June told me. "Send me the records."

I made a sheet with four columns: contract, amount, due date, destination. It felt like a germination count. Put each thing where it belonged before deciding what it meant.

Renata's lawyer, Martin Pike, sent a reply that afternoon. He said his client was trying to protect the estate and had acted on her understanding of the will.

June attached the January assignments again.

Then she filed an objection to Renata's request to serve as personal representative. She also asked for a neutral temporary representative, protection for the disputed funds, and orders preserving records.

Our hearing was set in Ottawa County for the following week.

I wore my only dark jacket. There was a small patch on one cuff where Celia had sewn over a burn from a heater pipe.

Renata wore a cream suit and carried a binder with gold corners.

"You could have talked to me," she said in the hall.

"I asked for the original will."

"You hired a lawyer instead."

June touched my elbow. We went inside.

The judge asked questions in a voice softer than I expected. Who held the lease? Who had received the royalties? Had any order appointed Renata to control the estate?

The answer to that last question was no.

Martin said the will showed Celia's final wishes.

June stood.

"Even if it were valid, these trust assets were transferred in January. We also dispute the will's execution."

She handed up copies, with the signed schedules behind the agreement. Beth's letter confirmed the lease assignment and its term through December 2032.

The judge turned several pages.

"Ms. Salazar, did you change the locks?"

Renata stood beside her lawyer.

"I secured the premises."

"You will not interfere with the tenant's access while this matter is pending."

It was one plain sentence. It did more than every angry speech I had made in my truck that week.

The judge appointed Ellen Voss, an independent estate professional, to handle the estate on a temporary basis. Any royalty money still in the account was to remain untouched while ownership was decided. No business sale could go forward through the estate without proper authority.

An accountant would trace money claimed by both sides. The judge also set a later hearing on the will and directed that the claimed original be preserved and produced.

Nothing about that morning felt like winning. We had paid to stop things that should never have started.

Still, I walked out with a copy of an order that let me work.

At the clerk's counter, I paid $3 for another certified copy. I kept one in my truck and put the other in the propagation-house office. Beth read it beside the sink.

"Call me if anyone changes another lock," she said.

I nodded. For years, I had kept records of what each plant needed. Now I was learning to keep records of what people did.

Ansel waited on a bench in the hall. He held his green appointment book inside a clear bag.

"They didn't need me today?"

"Not today," June said. "They will."

"Then I shall keep my Tuesdays open."

At her office, two more statements waited for us.

The names on the new will belonged to people who had witnessed Celia's earlier will in 2022. One was a retired teacher; the other repaired greenhouse wiring.

Both said they had signed the 2022 will. Neither had witnessed any document for Celia on June 18.

June had obtained a copy of that earlier will from Celia's former lawyer. It split the estate left outside the trust equally between Renata and me, and named an independent representative.

The witness signatures on the two wills looked exactly alike to my eyes, down to a stray dot beside one name.

"An examiner can assess that," June said when I pointed.

We put the copies side by side. I slipped a pressed aster beside the older one to hold my place.

"Don't press it against the evidence," she said gently.

I moved it to my own notes.

That night, I watered under the work lights. For the first time in days, I finished a whole bench without checking my phone.

Then Beth came in carrying an envelope.

"This was taped to the outside door," she said.

Inside was a demand from Renata for $31,000 in back rent, wages, and use of equipment. A note beneath it said she would withdraw the demand if I signed away the trust.