Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Wanted Me Declared Unfit
Brenda arrived at my house on Tuesday morning carrying a lemon cake.
She had always hated lemon cake.
I knew that because she'd told me so at least a dozen times.
Apparently, she thought I had forgotten.
I opened the screen door.
“Good morning, Brenda.”
She smiled.
“Eleanor, I thought we should talk.”
“About the company?”
“About family.”
I looked at the cake.
“Did you bake that?”
“Yes.”
“You don't like lemon.”
Her smile faltered.
“I thought you did.”
“I do.”
I stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Ruth was already sitting at the kitchen table.
Brenda stopped.
“Oh.”
“Ruth's visiting.”
“I was hoping we could speak privately.”
“Then you should have called.”
Brenda placed the cake on the counter.
“I suppose I deserved that.”
I poured coffee.
She sat down, smoothed her coat, and folded her hands.
For the first five minutes, she talked about the weather.
Then Noah's school.
Then Lily's college applications.
Finally, she looked at me.
“Eleanor, Kenneth is under tremendous pressure.”
“I imagine he is.”
“He's afraid you'll ruin the business.”
“I've spent almost forty years building that business.”
“Of course.”
She smiled tightly.
“But the world has changed.”
“Yes.”
“And sometimes older people have trouble recognizing when it's time to let go.”
Ruth made a quiet sound into her coffee cup.
I leaned back.
“Are you referring to my age?”
“Don't be defensive.”
“I'm asking you a question.”
Brenda sighed.
“You've been very emotional lately.”
“My son disowned me.”
“He didn't disown you.”
“He told me not to come to family gatherings anymore.”
“He meant temporarily.”
“That's not what the message said.”
“People say things when they're frustrated.”
“Apparently.”
She leaned forward.
“We want to help you.”
“With what?”
“Your finances.”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“It's a lot to manage.”
“Is it?”
“You've got the properties, the company, investments, accounts.”
“I'm aware of what I own.”
Brenda's fingers tightened around her cup.
“That's exactly the kind of response that worries us.”
I stared at her.
“Knowing what I own worries you?”
“Your hostility does.”
Ruth set down her cup.
“Brenda, perhaps you should say what you came to say.”
Brenda looked irritated.
Then she reached into her handbag.
She removed a neatly folded document.
“I brought something that could make this easier.”
I didn't touch it.
“What is it?”
“A voluntary financial management agreement.”
“Prepared by whom?”
“Someone Kenneth knows.”
“An attorney?”
“Yes.”
“What's the attorney's name?”
Brenda hesitated.
“Does it matter?”
“Very much.”
She slid the paper toward me.
I read the first page.
It proposed granting Kenneth broad authority to manage my financial affairs.
The language was complicated.
But the intent was clear.
I looked up.
“You came here to ask me to sign over control of my money.”
“No.”
“Then what does this document do?”
“It lets Kenneth handle the difficult parts.”
“Which difficult parts?”
“Taxes.”
“I have an accountant.”
“Real estate.”
“I have an attorney.”
“Company decisions.”
“I have a controlling vote.”
Her expression hardened.
“You're impossible.”
I smiled faintly.
“And yet you came all this way.”
Brenda stood abruptly.
“You know what, Eleanor? Fine.”
She grabbed her handbag.
“We tried to be nice.”
“You brought cake and a legal document.”
“Because we care.”
“No, Brenda.”
I stood as well.
“You care about what happens to the money when you can't reach it.”
Her face flushed.
“You have no idea what Kenneth has sacrificed for you.”
I stared at her.
“What has he sacrificed?”
“He spent years running that company while you sat here enjoying your retirement.”
I felt an old anger rise.
“Walter and I built the company before Kenneth was born.”
“And Kenneth made it successful!”
“Walter made it successful.”
“Walter was old-fashioned.”
I went still.
Brenda realized she'd crossed a line.
But instead of apologizing, she continued.
“Kenneth brought that company into the modern world.”
“Then he should be able to explain the accounts.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Those accountants don't understand how business works.”
“Sarah Whitcomb does.”
Brenda looked startled.
I noticed.
“You know Sarah?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what she understands?”
Brenda grabbed the cake box.
“I'm leaving.”
“Please do.”
At the door, she turned back.
“You're going to die alone if you keep treating everyone this way.”
Ruth stood so fast her chair scraped the floor.
“Get out.”
Brenda stared at her.
Ruth pointed toward the porch.
“You heard me.”
Brenda left.
I watched her drive away.
Then I sat down.
My hands were shaking.
Ruth came beside me.
“You all right?”
“No.”
She put an arm around my shoulders.
“Want to cry?”
“Not yet.”
“Want to throw something?”
I looked at the lemon cake Brenda had left behind in her hurry.
“Possibly.”
Ruth laughed.
And for one brief moment, I laughed with her.
Then my phone rang.
Sarah Whitcomb.
“Mrs. Gable, I need to update you.”
“What happened?”
“We obtained copies of the corporate filing documents.”
“And?”
“The signature issue is worse than we thought.”
I sat straighter.
“How?”
“The person listed as the verifying witness is your sister.”
“I know.”
“But there is another document.”
“What document?”
“A notarized statement claiming that you voluntarily requested Kenneth take control because of declining cognitive function.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who signed it?”
“Someone purporting to be you.”
“And the notary?”
Sarah paused.
“That's why I'm calling.”
“Why?”
“The notary's registration number belongs to a woman who died eighteen months ago.”
I stared at the kitchen wall.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked, “Are you saying somebody used a dead woman's credentials?”
“That's what the records appear to indicate.”
“Who submitted the statement?”
“We're tracing that.”
“Sarah.”
“Yes?”
“Please tell me you're going to the authorities.”
“We're preparing the relevant evidence for a formal report.”
I took a slow breath.
“All right.”
“There is one more thing.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“We've identified the address associated with Bellamy Strategic Partners.”
“Where?”
She hesitated.
“Mrs. Gable, you're going to recognize it.”
I waited.
Then she told me.
May you like
The address was the cottage at Lake Bellamy.
The house where my sister Gertrude lived.
