Alden continued in the same even tone, as if he had expected exactly this.
‘Mrs.
Varga attached a letter to be read aloud if any beneficiary claimed she intended the residence for Stefan Varga or Yvonne Keller.’
He unfolded a second page.
‘If Yvonne Keller tells anyone that I promised her my home, she is lying,’ he read.
‘She asked me about the house more than once while I was medicated and too weak to throw her out myself.
I refused her every time.
My daughter has given me care, dignity, sleep, work, and peace for months.
She has already paid for this house in ways no bank would ever understand.’
Yvonne made a strangled sound.
‘She was confused,’ she snapped.
‘This is ridiculous.’
Mr.
Alden reached for another envelope.
‘This is a notarized affidavit from Carla Mendez, the hospice nurse present on February eleventh when Mrs.
Varga wrote that statement.
Ms.
Mendez confirms Mrs.
Varga was lucid and specifically asked that this letter be added after Ms.
Keller attempted to present paperwork regarding the residence.’
The room went so quiet I could hear the clock on the wall.
Stefan turned to his wife.
‘What paperwork?’ he asked.
Yvonne’s eyes flicked toward her handbag.
That was all it took.
Mr.
Alden saw it.
I saw it.
Stefan saw it.
He grabbed the bag before she could pull it closer.
Yvonne lunged for it, hissing his name, but he stepped back and opened the clasp.
Inside was a large manila envelope.
He pulled out a photocopy of an old will draft.
I knew instantly it was old because the date in the corner was from the previous autumn, before my mother’s final hospitalization.
In that draft, the house had been left jointly to Stefan and me, with provisions for a possible sale later.
Stefan stared at it.
‘You told me this was the final copy.’
Yvonne’s mouth opened and closed.
‘She changed it because you have a child.
She told me that.
I was protecting what should have gone to our family.’
‘My sister is my family,’ Stefan said, and there was such stunned disgust in his voice that even Yvonne seemed startled by it.
Mr.
Alden removed his glasses, polished them, and said quietly, ‘Mrs.
Varga revised the will three weeks later.
She informed me she had discovered someone had been looking through her papers.
She said she wanted no ambiguity left for ambitious people to exploit.’
Ambitious people.
Yvonne flinched as if she’d been slapped.
Then Mr.
Alden handed Stefan one more sealed letter.
‘This is for you,’ he said.
‘Your mother instructed that you read it privately, but given the circumstances, I suspect you may wish to do so now.’
Stefan opened it with shaking hands.
He read silently at first.
Then his face changed.
His shoulders dropped.
His eyes filled.
Later he let me read it.
My mother had written: Eva sat beside my bed when I was afraid.
You stood farther away than I needed.
I still love you.
That is why I leave you enough to help your son.
But a house
should go to the child who made it possible for me to die in my own.
At the bottom she had added one more line.
Do not mistake silence for innocence, Stefan.
Letting wrong happen is a choice.
He folded the letter once, then again.
‘Eva,’ he said hoarsely, but I held up a hand.
Not yet.
I wasn’t ready for his regret.
Not with Yvonne still in the room and my mother’s words hanging over us like judgment.
Yvonne stood abruptly.
‘This is insane.
You’re all overreacting.
We should go home and talk about this privately.’
But Mr.
Alden was already making another call.
When he covered the receiver, he said, ‘My office just confirmed a rental van is parked outside the Linden Street property.
Ms.
Keller apparently scheduled movers for noon.’
My stomach dropped.
Stefan went white.
‘She what?’
Yvonne grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
Stefan blocked her.
‘No.’
