Marcus cursed and ran toward the dining room.
Grandma stopped him with a single sentence.
“The housekeeper already cleaned.”
He froze.
Aunt Linda turned toward Rosa.
“Where are the checks?”
Rosa did not react.
“The trash was collected this morning.”
Marcus looked sick.
“Mine landed in the mashed potatoes.”
“And then you laughed,” Grandma reminded him.
Dad turned toward me.
“You should have called us.”
“Grandma told me not to.”
“She is manipulating you.”
Grandma gave a dry laugh.
“That accusation sounds familiar.”
Aunt Linda grabbed her purse.
“I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Please do,” Grandma replied. “Mine is already expecting it.”
Everyone began speaking at once.
Marcus demanded a replacement check.
Linda threatened to challenge the trust.
Dad accused Grandma of destroying the family.
Rosa told them to lower their voices.
I stood beside the fireplace and watched the people who had always appeared so powerful become frantic and small.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound silenced the room.
Rosa answered it and returned with a woman wearing a navy coat and carrying a leather briefcase.
She introduced herself as Patricia Bell, Grandma’s estate attorney.
My father’s expression darkened.
“You called her?”
“I called her last night,” Grandma answered.
Patricia placed her briefcase on the coffee table.
“Mrs. Whitaker requested that I attend today’s discussion.”
Linda’s tone softened immediately.
“Patricia, surely you understand that this is a family matter.”
“It became a legal matter when you attempted to obtain control of your mother’s property under false pretenses,” Patricia replied.
