That answer frightened me more than if she had simply said yes.
The garden office sat behind the greenhouse, a narrow cedar building Dad had built twenty years earlier.
It smelled exactly as I remembered: soil, old paper, fertilizer and the faint trace of his coffee.
His hat still hung from a hook beside the door.
I almost lost my composure when I saw it.
Instead, I walked to the desk.
The brass key fit the lowest drawer.
Inside was a sealed folder, a flash drive and a note bearing Brenda’s name.
“Tell me what you see,” she said.
“A folder.
A drive.
Another note.”
“Bring all three to tomorrow’s reading.
Do not open the legal folder without me.”
I stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because your father wanted the record absolutely clean.
No accusations that documents were altered, removed or misunderstood.”
The implication was obvious.
“You think they might challenge the will.”
“I think Frank thought they might.”
I sat in Dad’s chair.
“What did he do, Brenda?”
“You will hear it tomorrow with everyone else.”
I wanted to push her, but I understood why she refused.
Dad had planned this carefully.
I could respect that.
The next morning, I arrived at Brenda’s office carrying the folder and flash drive inside my father’s old leather satchel.
Keith and Justine were already there.
So was Kyle.
The moment my brother saw me, he looked away.
That hurt more than anything Justine had said in the garden.
Keith, however, smiled as though we were attending an ordinary business meeting.
“Paige.”
“Keith.”
Justine sat beside him wearing a cream-colored suit and holding a new leather notebook on her lap.
She looked at the satchel in my hand.
“Packing already?” she asked.
Brenda entered before I could answer.
She carried two thick files.
“Everyone is here,” she said.
“Good.”
Kyle cleared his throat.
“Are we going to be long?”
Brenda gave him a level look.
“As long as necessary.”
That silenced him.
She began with the standard formalities.
Frank Higgins had been of sound mind when he executed his final estate documents.
The witnesses had been independent.
His physicians had documented his mental competence.
Brenda herself had met with him privately more than once.
Keith shifted slightly at that.
Justine did not.
She seemed bored.
Then Brenda read the first distributions.
