My Cousin Faced His Own Words Across A Deposition Table

I did not send the email to our family.

For one evening, I wanted to. I wanted every aunt and second cousin to read the line about glass.

Instead, I put my copy in a folder and washed the pitch from my hands.

Lena was building a record. A family argument would only make more noise around it.

Esteban gave his deposition in her conference room the following month. A court reporter sat at one end of the table. His lawyer sat close enough to touch his sleeve.

I was allowed to attend. I kept my pencil on the paper so I would not tap it.

"You instructed Mr. Voss to call the payment repairs?" Lena asked.

"It was a broad term."

"For planning a resort?"

"For improving the property."

"Did you tell Tomas Rivera work had already been completed?"

"I don't recall."

She showed him his message to me: Roof handled. Stop climbing up there.

He took a drink of water.

"I was trying to keep him safe."

The reporter's fingers kept moving.

Lena asked about the $25,000 option payment. It had gone into Esteban's personal account. He had spent most of it on debts and a vehicle down payment.

"Did Ines authorize you to sell her property before her death?"

"It was contingent."

"That wasn't my question."

He looked at me.

"She knew I understood its value."

"Did she authorize you?"

"Not in writing."

The answer was narrower than the question. Lena left it there and moved on.

When she asked about Quinn, his lawyer straightened.

"Did you tell Mr. Voss that she had witnessed the codicil?"

"After Tomas made his claim, yes."

"Did you ask him to approach her?"

"I asked him to find out what she remembered."

"Did you know about the proposed debt waiver?"

"Later."

"Before or after it was delivered?"

His lawyer asked for a break.

During the break, I stood outside by a narrow strip of shade. Esteban came through the door holding his phone.

"You enjoy watching people pick apart every word?"

"No."

"Then settle. I'll pay you $40,000. Finish the mirror for somebody else."

"With what money?"

His face changed.

I had not meant to score a point. I really wanted to know. His deposit was nearly gone, the estate account was frozen against his use, and the buyer's lawyer had begun asking about repayment.

"The hill is worth more without that dome," he said.

"To the person who wants to knock it down."

He put his phone away.

"You can't keep giving things away forever."

I thought of Ines's public nights. Most visitors dropped a few dollars in her box. Some brought nothing but children who needed a stool to reach the eyepiece.

"She wrote a budget," I said. "You could have read it."

He went inside.

Quinn's deposition came a week later. Ruth sat beside her. Nobody asked her to be warm or grateful.

She described the signing, the blue cup, and Ines's choice to have me keep the sealed document without knowing its contents.

"Did Tomas tell her what to leave him?" Esteban's lawyer asked.

"He wasn't there."

"He could have told her earlier."

"You asked what I saw."

She did not fill the silence after that.

Dina's account matched Quinn's on the things that mattered. Where their memories differed about small details, Lena let the differences stand.

Meanwhile, Ruth obtained the original electronic guarantee from Voss's company. A document examiner compared it with Quinn's class sheet and issued a report supporting her claim that the signature image had been copied.

The company also produced an internal message from Voss: Use the attendance signature we already have. She'll take the extension.

His lawyer asked to discuss a settlement of Quinn's claims.

Quinn read the report at my kitchen table. She did not look pleased. She traced the copied juice dot with a finger held above the page.

"That sheet was for borrowing a telescope," she said. "A parent trusted me enough to sign it. They turned that into this."

I put a clean folder beside her.

"Keep the original safe."

"I know."

She put it away herself. I was getting better at leaving her hands on her own work.

Ruth said they would listen after the $18,400 demand was withdrawn in writing.

That night I uncovered Ines's mirror. With permission from the neutral administrator, I had resumed the commission. Its price would stay $6,800, with the unpaid half due only when the mirror passed its tests.

I hummed while a band of light slid across the surface. One narrow zone still needed work.

I had switched to a ruled screen in the tester. Its dark lines made a small bend easy to see. Polishing that bend away would take a few slow strokes, another rinse, and another test. Too much pressure could ruin the progress I had made.

I marked it instead of pretending it was gone.

At eight, Lena called.

"The court has set the final hearing," she said. "And Esteban has asked to testify."