PAGE 5
The attorney answered on the third ring.
“Arthur Bell speaking.”
“Mr. Bell?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Mara Vance.”
There was silence.
Then his voice changed.
“Mara?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“At a motel.”
“Are the children with you?”
“Yes.”
Arthur exhaled slowly.
“Richard told me this might happen.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“You knew?”
“I knew he was preparing something.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Richard specifically instructed me not to.”
Mara looked at the folder.
“He left me the documents.”
“Then you need to bring them to my office immediately.”
“Are they real?”
Arthur paused.
“Yes.”
Mara’s heart began pounding.
“Does that mean the house is mine?”
“That’s what the documents indicate.”
“And my in-laws?”
Arthur’s voice became serious.
“They have a problem.”
The next morning, Mara took the first bus into town.
She brought the folder.
She brought Richard’s letter.
And she brought the photograph.
Arthur Bell’s office was on the second floor of an old brick building.
He was waiting when Mara arrived.
He was in his late sixties, with silver hair and a reputation for being almost impossible to intimidate.
He took the folder from her.
For nearly an hour, he read everything.
He asked questions.
Mara answered.
He checked dates.
He checked signatures.
He examined the notarizations.
Several times, he leaned back in his chair.
Finally, he looked at Mara.
“Your husband was thorough.”
Mara’s voice trembled.
“How much of this is actually mine?”
Arthur folded his hands.
“The estate property. The trust interest. Several financial accounts. And certain assets your husband transferred before his death.”
Mara stared at him.
“Why would Richard do all this without telling me?”
Arthur looked down.
“Because he knew his parents.”
Mara looked away.
Arthur continued.
“Richard came to me four months before his death.”
“He told you about them?”
“He told me he was afraid they would try to remove you and the children from the estate.”
Mara’s eyes filled with tears.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know he was going to die?”
Arthur didn’t answer immediately.
“He knew his condition was getting worse.”
Mara lowered her head.
Arthur slid another document across the desk.
“This is important.”
“What is it?”
“A transfer instrument.”
She looked at it.
“Richard legally transferred ownership before he died.”
“So they really have no claim?”
“They may try to make one.”
“Can they?”
Arthur gave her a faint smile.
“They can try.”
Mara stared at the papers.
“So when they threw us out…”
“They were removing the legal owner from her own property.”
The words stunned her.
Arthur continued.
“And they didn’t know it.”
Mara looked down.
For the first time since the eviction, she allowed herself to feel something other than fear.
Anger.
Not wild anger.
Controlled anger.
The kind that comes after realizing someone deliberately hurt your children because they believed you were powerless.
Arthur closed the folder.
“We’ll deal with the house first.”
Mara looked at the photograph.
“And the second property?”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Richard left it.”
Arthur took the photograph.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Then he looked at Mara.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did Richard ever mention a property outside Oakridge?”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
Arthur placed the photograph on his desk.
“Then we’re going to have to find out why he wanted you to know about it.”
