Chapter 16
Reeve: I’m very worried for all of you
Jules: Wait. Just got another one. Bill’s counter seat at Lou’s is now up for grabs.
Reeve: Are you going to go for it?
Jules: I am going to sit here in my kitchen and devour every last crumb
Reeve: Are you still up for dinner? And in a very related question, any chance you’re free this Saturday?
Jules: I very much am up for it. However, I’ve picked up double Saturday shifts for the next two weeks. But I am only working a half shift next Wednesday. Could I meet you halfway?
Reeve: No, let’s wait. I want to do this right.
Jules: Are you sure? It will be two weeks, almost three.
Reeve: I’ve waited two years, Jules. A few weeks won’t be a problem.
—
On the day of my big date with Reeve, my phone rings as I walk through the retirement home’s front doors.
I pull it from my purse and see that it flashes the 416 area code of a Toronto number.
My heart picks up speed wondering if it’s Reeve calling me from his work number until I press it to my ear with a breathy “Hello” and hear a voice that isn’t his on the other end of the line.
“Ms. DeMarco. It’s Niles James. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
I check my watch. It’s 8:45. I have fifteen minutes to clock in for my shift, and this is a conversation I don’t want anyone who may be lingering around the break room to hear.
“I have a few minutes.” I pull the collar of my coat tighter, step back out into the cold, and huddle into the small alcove in the retirement home’s brick exterior where the smokers stand to shield themselves from the wind.
There’s a soft shuffling of papers on the other end of the line. “Good. Good. Well, apologies for taking so long to reconnect. As I suspected, the courts were all backed up with the Christmas season and whatnot, but I have some good news for you.”
My chest fills with an icy cold. It grips my lungs and forces me to take slow, shallow breaths.
“As I anticipated,” Niles James continues, “there were no objections from any beneficiaries on the division of Kitty’s assets. You are now entitled to inherit the property located at 1243 St.Mary Street.”
I hear his words. I understand their meaning individually, yet strung together they sound so foreign I have to ask him to repeat.
“The property,” he says, slower this time.
“Kitty St. Clair’s will has been finalized.
You will officially own the property as soon as you fill out the needed tax and banking information.
I will have my assistant send them over, which reminds me, there is one small issue I would like to bring to your attention. ”
The brief euphoric moment as I process this good news quickly fades to an impending sense of dread.
“Kitty left provisions to cover all estate and other administration taxes, including the property taxes for the initial year after her death. As her executor, it was my responsibility to take care of this.” He pauses, and I know, even before he begins to speak, that the thing he is about to say next will not be good.
“However, moving forward, you will be responsible for the annual property taxes. I wanted to make sure you were aware of this fact well in advance.”
He may be using lawyer speak, but I am all too familiar with the core of his message.
“How much will I owe?”
There’s another pause before Niles answers. “This is a matter you should discuss with your municipality directly, but using this year’s figures as an accurate comparison, I would estimate somewhere in the neighborhood of five thousand dollars.”
He waits. And when a moment goes by with nothing but heavy breathing on my end of the line, he clears his throat. “Did you hear me, Ms. DeMarco?”
“I got it.”
I own a plot of land with an abandoned building that requires me to come up with $5,000—cash that I don’t have.
“You are more than welcome to contact me with any further questions,” he continues. “As I said, there will be some paperwork to sign, but I hope to have all of it straightened out by the end of the month.”
He hangs up.
Almost immediately after, my phone pings with an email from a generic Niles James LLP address with a formal lawyer-esque greeting and line-by-line details of what to do next.
The instructions are clear and precise, with underlined links to forms and notes on their desired completion dates.
It details exactly what to do about the legal matters that need attending to.
What it doesn’t tell me is what to do with my hands, which are shaking, and my teeth, which are chattering—and not, I suspect, from the cold.