Page 7 of When Cardinals Appear

“I gathered as much,” I muttered. Despite my annoyance, I couldn’t blame Steven. He wasn’t mechanically inclined. Dad had once tried to show him how to change the oil. After Dad completed the demonstration, Steven asked how much it would cost to have someone else do it.

“Nate, huh?” Steven arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect him to handle it himself.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “How did, uh, that go?”

I glared at him. My unexpected and uncomfortable reunion, on the other hand, was entirely his fault. “Fine. No thanks for the warning.”

“Sorry, sis. I really thought he’d send someone else.”

I couldn’t stay mad at him, and I didn’t want to talk about my ex. “Should we get started?”

To my relief, he took the hint and led the way, indicating a seat for me on the other side of his desk as he sank into his chair. His office was just as nicely decorated as the reception area. Shelves lined the back wall, bowing in the middle from the weight of the law books. Behind his desk, he’d hung his framed degrees.

I struggled sometimes to process just how much Steven had grown up. My memories of the annoying older brother who would pull my pigtails and play silly pranks on me was hard to reconcile with the man sitting before me. He not only owned a successful law practice but was also engaged to marry his college sweetheart, who had all too willingly moved back to Cedar Haven to start her life with him. I smiled at the photo of him and Rose on his desk.

“Did you have a chance to look over the paperwork?” Steven asked.

“Mostly. I finished the real estate documents, but I’ve barely started the rest.” I handed him the completed pile.

After flipping through it to confirm I’d signed on all the requisite pages, he knocked the papers together on the desk and into a neat stack. I removed the will from my bag and held it out to him, but he shook his head.

“I have my own copy here.” He tapped a different pile on his desk. “Did you have any questions about the sale of the house?”

I shrugged. “It all seemed pretty straightforward. I appreciate that you were able to do a comparison of recent sales in the area to have a ballpark of the price.”

“I didn’t do anything. John down at Peak Real Estate handled all of that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “He said the market’s perfect for selling, and he expects the house will go quick. But before I give him the paperwork, I wanted to talk to you about cleaning out all of Mom’s things.” He folded his hands on the desk. “Many of the items Mom felt were valuable are covered in the will, but certain personal effects—such as her clothes, pictures, and the like—are to be divided between us. I know you and Mom were the same size, so I have no objection if you want to go through her clothes and take whatever you want. I figure we can donate the rest.”

“That sounds fair,” I agreed, trying to ignore the lump that formed in my throat.

“There is one thing of value she didn’t bequeath that I think we should discuss,” Steven continued. “Her car.”

“I assumed we would sell that too,” I said.

“While you’re here, I figured you’d use it to get around. And then you’re welcome to keep it if you want, but we would have to go through the process of changing the title to you.”

“I don’t think I want to drive it all the way out to LA.”

His eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t address the elephant in the room. “For now, let’s just put it on the back burner. We can discuss it when we’re closer to finalizing the rest of the estate.”

I nodded and swallowed. I appreciated that he didn’t pressure me—Dad was doing enough of that for both of them—but I suspected my brother would push the issue sooner or later. I hoped I could delay it as long as possible.

“She bequeathed the furniture in the master bedroom, as well as your old furniture, to you,” Steven said, looking over a highlighted copy of our mother’s will. “But I know you’re not settled yet. I didn’t know if you wanted to keep any of it, and I was thinking if you didn’t want it, we could hold an estate sale. If you do want it, we could get a storage unit while we wait for the house to sell.” He gestured toward the door of his office. “You haven’t seen it yet, but the bookshelves from the living room are in my paralegal’s office.”

My stomach churned, and I took a deep breath. Steven had had a significant amount of time to process everything and had clearly studied the will. While part of me appreciated that he’d already started moving his share of Mom’s things, another part resented the time he’d had to do it. His efforts meant we would have less to do to prepare the house for sale. At the same time, I’d worked my butt off to finish school and attempt to piece my life back together, but I’d had to put that on hold to come back and settle Mom’s estate. It wasn’t fair.

“Lanie?” Steven asked, drawing me back to the present. “Are you still with me?”

“I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in.”

His hazel eyes softened. “I know, and I realize you just got here, but we need to get Mom’s house on the market as soon as possible. It’s the largest part of her estate, and we can’t finalize everything until it’s disposed of.”

I winced at his wording. It sounded clinical and detached, as if he were discussing a piece of trash and not our childhood home. But I shouldn’t judge him. That was just “Steven the Lawyer” talking, and I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He was compartmentalizing everything just like I had at school. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I picked up my copy of the will and nodded at him to continue. It was going to be a long morning.

“Well, that was productive,” Steven said hours later as he stacked the paperwork neatly on his desk and stretched. “There are still some details I think we need to review, but for now, we’re in a good place.”

With a weary smile, I rubbed the crick out of the back of my neck. I’d spent most of the morning with my head bent toward the paperwork in my lap. We’d gone through the entire will, making notes of specific bequests Mom had made as well as more general things we would need to divide between the two of us. It hurt my heart to see Mom’s entire life reduced to a stack of pages.

Steven checked his watch. “I promised you lunch, and it’s about that time. Any preference?”

I shook my head, still too muddled to think coherently. He reached across the desk and held out his hand, which I gratefully accepted.

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