After My Husband’s Memorial Service, My Son Drove Me To A Remote Road And Said: “This Is Where You Get Out. The House And Business Are Mine Now.” I Stood In The Dust, Clutching My Bag, As He Drove Away Without Looking Back. No Phone. No Money. And That’s When I Realized – I Wasn’t Alone. I Was Free…

She hurried from behind her desk. “Can I get you anything? Water?

Coffee?”

“I’m fine, Helen. Thank you.”

Vincent met me at his office door, his tall frame stooped with age, but his eyes sharp as ever. He’d been a year behind Nicholas in school, had handled our business incorporation, our wills, everything legal in our lives.

“Naomi.”

He guided me to a leather chair, then sat not behind his desk, but in the chair beside me. “Tell me what’s happening.”

So I did. The conversation after the funeral.

The suspicious will. The drive. The abandonment.

With each detail, Vincent’s expression darkened. “The will they showed you,” he said when I finished, “was not the will Nicholas and I prepared last year. Their document is a forgery.”

“I suspected as much.”

I opened my purse and removed the fireproof box.

From it, I withdrew the deed to the original 20 acres. “They don’t know about this.”

Vincent examined the deed, nodding slowly. “Smart.

Very smart. You two were always thinking ahead.”

“Nicholas suggested putting this portion in my maiden name when we first expanded. Insurance, he called it, in case the business ever failed.”

“And now it’s insurance of another kind.”

Vincent placed the deed carefully on his desk.

“What do you want to do, Naomi?”

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