My Aunt Had Left More Than Anyone Had Told Me

Dorothy met us at Evelyn's office with a library book and a bag of crackers.

"I'll sit with Wren," she said. "Take your time."

Through the glass door, I could see my daughter showing her the bird on her card.

Evelyn spread three folders across a small desk.

"First, I owe you an explanation," she said. "I've been leaving messages at the number Ada put in her records."

She read it aloud.

It was Miles's business line. Years before, we had used it as our home number.

"He said you were busy closing the estate," I told her. "He gave me tomorrow's appointment."

"He made that appointment. You could have called me at any point."

I stared at the folders.

For seven weeks, I had asked my husband questions he had already learned the answers to.

Evelyn pushed a sheet toward me.

"Ada put Bell Depot into a trust. At her death, her interest in the company that owns it passed to you. These are the records."

"How much does it owe?"

"The mortgage balance is about $210,000. The recent appraisal is $2,460,000."

I read the figures twice.

"That can't be right. She wore the same boots for twelve years."

"She had them resoled."

It sounded so much like Ada that I laughed. Then I covered my mouth.

Evelyn waited.

There were three commercial tenants. Their rent came to $18,200 a month. The budget set aside about $7,100 for the mortgage, taxes, insurance, repairs, and other costs.

There was also $62,400 in a reserve account.

"That reserve belongs to the business," Evelyn said. "You'll need to keep it healthy. But you have income, Nora. You have choices."

I thought of the grocery total I had put back last week. Nine dollars and twelve cents in apples and eggs.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

Evelyn handed me a sealed letter.

My name leaned uphill on the front.

I opened it with my house key.

Nora,

I kept saying we would sit down and go through the books. Then there was always a roof leak, or a holiday, or another test at the clinic. I should have made the time.

This building paid its own way. Please let it help pay yours.

You do not owe anyone a quick decision because they speak louder than you.

Love,

Ada

I could not read it again yet.

I folded it along Ada's old crease. Her last letter fit in one hand. The life she had tried to leave me was taking three folders to explain.

Evelyn looked at the sale agreement I had brought.

"This price is far below the appraisal. Did you authorize it?"

"No."

"Did you let Miles act for you? Sign anything giving him that power?"

"No."

She wrote down my answers.

The buyer had paid a $36,000 refundable deposit, according to the agreement. The payment instructions named my husband's heating company.

"Where should that have gone?" I asked.

"Any proper sale deposit would be held under agreed terms. It should never have gone into his operating account like this. We need to notify the buyer and stop any closing."

I pictured Miles at the supper, taking credit for saving me.

"Do it."

Evelyn made calls while I sat beside her. She sent a written notice that I disputed the authorization and had not agreed to the sale.

Then she asked me to change the contact details on the company records with her help the next morning.

"Tonight, save everything. Messages, statements, the envelope. Where can you and Wren stay?"

"Dorothy has a spare room."

I had not asked Dorothy yet. When I did, she took a second key from her purse before I finished.

We went home while Miles was still at the supper.

I packed school clothes, Wren's hearing aid case, our papers, and Ada's letter. I photographed the rooms and took only what we needed.

On the kitchen counter lay a receipt for a dinner that cost $286.

The date was Friday.

The same day he had taken Wren's deposit.

I put the receipt in the folder.

Wren came down carrying her pillow.

"Are we poor at Dorothy's house?"

I knelt in front of her.

"We're safe at Dorothy's house. The grown-up money things are mine to fix."

She nodded. That answer seemed to give her something solid to stand on.

At 10:14, Miles called.

I let it go to voicemail.

"You embarrassed me," he said. "Bring Wren home. And leave Ada's papers where they belong."

Before I could save the message, an email arrived from one of the depot tenants.

The subject line read: Second Rent Payment Sent To Updated Account.