Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Because she was eager to hear Shane’s voice again, instead of texting, Caitlin phoned him first thing in the morning.
After exchanging greetings, she said, “I thought you should know that Marion loved the loft. She gave me a smug I-told-you-so about hiring you.”
“Glad she liked it, but I hope Pepper’s toenails didn’t scratch the floor.”
“No. She didn’t bring him because she was worried about that happening, too,” replied Caitlin with a chuckle. “So the floors are still in flawless condition, but there’s a small problem on the roof. I wondered if you’d be available to take care of it for me?”
“What kind of problem? Did someone TP it again?” he joked, making her smile.
“No, the gutter came detached. It banged against the house all night. It’s been quieter now that the wind is dying down, so there’s no rush to do it this week—as long as it’s fixed before the cottage goes on the market.
” Swallowing, she screwed up the courage to add, “But if you have the time, it would be great to see you again before I leave. And if you come at the end of the day, when you’re finished, I’ll make dinner and we can eat in the loft.
It’s so cozy I practically live up there now. ”
Shane’s answer was swift and enthusiastic. “Sounds great. I’ll have to bring Sammy with me in case I need his help, but we’ll drive separately, and I’ll send him away as soon as we’re done rehanging the gutter.”
Feeling guilty, Caitlin haltingly offered, “He’s—he’s welcome to stay for supper, too.”
“No way!” Shane exclaimed. In a quieter voice, he said, “He might be on the skinny side, but believe me, that boy eats a ton. He’d clean you out. Let’s keep supper to just us.”
Caitlin was only too happy to agree. “Okay. Do you have any food preferences or aversions?”
There was a momentary pause before he answered. “Never thought I’d say this, but no clam chowder, please. I discovered this week that I can’t eat it for every meal after all. Anything else would be terrific. Thursday at three thirty okay?
Grinning from ear to ear, Caitlin said, “It’s perfect. See you then.”
As she hurriedly got dressed, she mentally planned the menu: steak, twice-baked potatoes, sauteed asparagus, and—just to try to dispel Shane’s bias—lobster stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer. For dessert, she’d make cranberry cheesecake using the recipe book she’d purchased from the farm.
It suddenly occurred to Caitlin that she’d have to brave the harsh wintry elements to get to the grocery store and the fish market.
She supposed she could’ve asked to borrow Marion’s car, but she figured, If I can go outside my emotional comfort zone and invite Shane here for a pseudo date, then I can go outside my physical comfort zone, too…
Ironically, it was while she was waiting in line at the store, instead of while walking on the beach, that Caitlin discovered the harbor and a large section of the bay had frozen solid during the night.
“Supposedly, a couple of icebreaker ships are on their way, but until they get here, ferry service has been suspended,” the elderly gentleman in front of Caitlin told the cashier.
“Who needs ferry service?” the woman replied. “I just had a customer in here who said the ice is so thick on the beach near him that he could drive a car straight across Hope Haven Sound to Hyannis if he wanted to.”
That’s obviously an exaggeration , thought Caitlin. But she was fascinated by this innocuous Dune Island rumor and she could hardly wait to find out to what extent it was accurate. As soon as she returned to the cottage, she set her groceries on the kitchen table and dashed up to the loft.
Caitlin was awestruck by the otherworldly view: beyond the bare-branched scrub oaks and the gnarled pitch pines on the cliff, the bay was an unbroken plain of white. How could anything so stark be so beautiful?
When I made a joke to Shane about the bay freezing over, I didn’t realize it could happen, especially not at this time of year , Caitlin thought, remembering her crack about being stranded on Dune Island until spring. Like he said, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen, would it?
On Wednesday afternoon, Caitlin had just slid the springform pan of cheesecake batter into the oven when her phone rang. Recognizing the New Hampshire area code on her screen, she assumed it was one of her relatives calling with early holiday greetings.
“Hello?” she answered in a cheery tone.
“Caitlin Hines?” The man’s voice was so grim her first thought was that he was calling to tell her someone had died.
“Yes, this is Caitlin,” she confirmed.
“Attorney Bruce Wegford here,” he stated. “I’m calling on behalf of my clients, who are contesting your right to inherit Lydia Walker’s estate.”
His call was so unexpected and he spoke so quickly that at first, Caitlin could hardly absorb what he was saying.
But by the end of his monologue, she’d caught the gist: Lydia’s nephews were claiming that her Trust was invalid because she’d already been diagnosed with dementia when she’d drawn it up.
“Of course, I’ll be in touch again when I formally file the complaint in probate court after the holidays. But my clients asked me to forewarn you, as a courtesy.”
“How thoughtful.” Unable to hold her tongue, Caitlin decided to kill them with kindness. “Please, wish them both a very Merry Christmas for me—and happy holidays to you, as well.”
She hung up without another word and burst into tears.
How could they do this? And how could they do it now?
If they were going to contest the Trust, why didn’t they do it from the beginning?
she fumed. It’s as if they were just waiting until the remodel was completed!
After all the thought I put into designing it, and all the work Shane did to make it perfect—not to mention all the emotional turmoil I went through by coming back to Dune Island—and now they’re just going to steal the cottage out from under me?
Caitlin was so upset she didn’t even try to gather her composure before phoning Lydia’s estate attorney to speak to the paralegal.
He didn’t answer, so she left an urgent voice mail message and then did an online search for “contesting the will of someone with dementia.” She’d hoped to read something that would put her mind at ease, but the more she researched the topic, the more convinced she became that Lydia’s nephews had a strong case against her.
Even if their claim is shaky, I can’t afford to hire an attorney to represent me , she fretted.
And they know that full well—I can’t believe they’d be so merciless.
And greedy. And… Caitlin paced circles through the tiny cottage, adding to her list of unflattering adjectives to describe their behavior until she got her anger out of her system.
As obnoxious as they’re being, I can’t let them get the best of me , she told herself. Especially because I haven’t even spoken to the estate attorney’s office yet. For all I know, they’ll tell me Lydia’s nephews don’t have a legal leg to stand on…
Unfortunately, when the paralegal returned Caitlin’s call at the end of the day, his response was more exasperating than consoling.
“I’m not as familiar with your aunt’s Trust as the attorney is, but off the top of my head, I can confirm that if she lacked the capacity to create the Trust, then your aunt’s nephews might have a valid case.”
“Right, I’m aware of the general grounds for contesting a Trust,” said Caitlin through clenched teeth.
I already figured out that much from the internet.
“But the reason I called was to ask about my specific situation, and to confirm whether my aunt’s nephews actually do have a strong case to prevent me from inheriting her property. ”
“I can’t confirm that yet—like I said, I’d need to familiarize myself with the Trust, which I can do and get back to you. But while I have you on the phone, let me get a little more information about your aunt’s health.”
After telling him as much as she could remember, Caitlin asked the paralegal for an estimate of the legal fees for defending her inheritance. The range of figures he quoted seemed astronomical to her, and she hung up feeling completely discouraged.
That evening, as she lay in bed, her anger began creeping up on her again.
How could Lydia’s nephews do something so underhanded?
Not just to Caitlan, but to their aunt’s memory?
How could they be so unconscionable, and violate Lydia’s final wishes after she’d been so generous to them their entire lives?
I’ve got to fight this . Caitlin schemed, Maybe I could withdraw money from my retirement account to hire a lawyer. If I win the case, I’ll be able to replenish my savings after I sell the cottage.
On the other hand, if she lost the case, she would have wasted a lot of money, and she’d have to pay early withdrawal fees and taxes, on top of it. Not to mention, a legal battle would be extremely stressful.
If the estate attorney ultimately advises me I don’t have a good chance of winning, I guess I should just concede instead of going through all that , she thought dolefully.
After all, I won’t be any worse off than I was two months ago.
And isn’t the most important thing that I fulfilled Aunt Lydia’s dream, like she requested?
But no matter what she told herself, the injustice of Lydia’s nephews taking ownership of the cottage was so maddening that Caitlin couldn’t sleep. She got up and turned on the TV for a distraction from her thoughts.
“The bad news is that our cold snap continues. Temperatures should hover right around ten degrees Fahrenheit tomorrow,” the Boston forecaster announced.
“But the good news is that the winds will be calm and the skies will be sunny. However, if you’re going outside, you’ll still need to protect yourself from the extreme cold. ”