Page 60 of Drawing Home
“Send it to me. I’ll start the paperwork. But Bea, this is a long shot. The current will was executed properly, so we can’t invalidate it on a technicality. That leaves three other avenues: The decedent lacked the mental capacity to make the will. The decedent was unduly influenced to make the will. Or the will was procured by fraud. Any of these grounds are very difficult to prove.”
“Well, then you have your work cut out for you. Let’s not waste time chitchatting,” she said and ended the call. She smiled into the mirror at the stylist poised behind her. Her phone buzzed again: Kyle. She ignored him and waited until her snow-white hair was as straight as a pin, the edges of her hair just grazing her jawline, before reading the texts that followed.
Emma Mapson at the house. With daughter. Just FYI. Let’s not have a scene?
Twenty-four hours ago, this would have been bad news. Now it was more than welcome.
She canceled her manicure appointment and called for a cab. For a fleeting moment she thought of the water taxi—it had been surprisingly quick the other afternoon—but then decided against it since she’d just had her hair done. Instead, she sat in the cab as it moved slowly through the traffic in town, crossed over the bridge, and took her down the winding, secluded streets to Windsong. It gave her plenty of time to think of what she would say to Emma Mapson.
Emma sat in the dining room eating from a takeout pint of BuddhaBerry frozen yogurt and watching Penny in the pool. She was still irked by Kyle and the boat, but something about the house had a calming effect on her. She didn’t know if it was all of the natural light or the lack of clutter, but it felt like a big exhale just sitting inside. Her one issue with the house was that some of the rooms felt a little impersonal. She could remedy that with a few well-placed bunches of roses.
The front door slammed shut.
“Hello?” Emma called out, standing.
Bea Winstead swept into the room like she owned the place. She wore a light cashmere cape despite the fact that it was eighty degrees outside. Dropping her keys on the table, she said, “I see you’ve made yourself right at home.”
She clearly wasn’t surprised to find Emma there; Kyle must have tipped her off. Jerk!
“Yeah, I actually could say the same to you,” Emma said, sticking her spoon in the plastic container. “This is trespassing. I could call the police and end this right now.”
“So why don’t you? Why haven’t you?”
“I didn’t know you’d moved in here until a few hours ago.”
“Really? Or maybe it’s because you know thatyou’rethe one who is trespassing.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Not this again. “Ms. Winstead, I don’t want to make a scene. This is a small town. I don’t want to be in the papers any more than I have been already. But more than anything, I want to protect my daughter’s privacy. So I’m willing to ask you, politely, to leave. If you need a few days, we can work something out.”
“How generous of you,” Bea said. “But ifI’mforced to leave,youwill be forced to leave.”
Emma pressed her hands to her temples. “I don’t have the energy to play these games with you.”
“I assure you, my dear, I am not playing.” Bea set her Hermès purse on the table, opened it, pulled out a sheet of paper, and waved it in Emma’s face.
“Henry’s original will—naming me the executor of his estate. Expressing his wishes that this house be a museum of his work, not a playground for a hotel manager and her child.”
Emma reached for the paper but Bea snatched it away. “Henry did everything by design—everything. There’s no way he’d make a random decision to just leave his entire estate to virtual strangers.”
“Well, he did.”
“The courts will have to see about that; I’m contesting your inheritance. In case there’s any doubt, please be assured I have the best lawyers money can buy. So don’t get too comfortable. And if you push the issue about who gets to reside here, chances are we’ll both be asked to vacate while things get settled.”
Emma looked outside to Penny happily splashing around in the pool.
“Ms. Mapson, do you understand me?”
Emma nodded, still looking out the window at her daughter.
There was no way around it. She needed a lawyer. The “free” house was already costing her.
Her mother didn’t say much during the ride back to their own house. Penny could tell she was in a bad mood and so she didn’t want to push, but she was frustrated they’d left early. The plan had been to have dinner at the house, maybe to sleep over for the first time. But then, the Old Lady.
Why did her mother always back down? Penny knew her mother tried to do the right thing, but she was so cautious all the time and the result was their boring life. The worst part was that she was trying to make Penny be the same way. And even more frustrating than that, every time Penny tried to be bold and daring, her OCD got in the way.
“Do you want to go out for dinner?” Emma said as they headed over the bridge.
“Sure.”
