Chapter Four
Kit was still trying to wrap her head around everything she’d learned—and not learned—from the packet she’d received from Jeremy Banks when Russ came through the door that linked the house to the garage. She’d been so deep in thought she’d not heard the garage door open and close.
“Hey.” Russ’s usual greeting. He set his briefcase on the island and looked around the room. “Where’s Benny? I saw Abby’s car was gone and I figured she’d gone somewhere and left him here with you.”
Kit looked up from the page of the will she’d been reading for the umpteenth time. It seemed with each new reading she had more questions. Maxine had left a few small bequests to several individuals, and she couldn’t help but wonder who they were.
“She took him with her to run a few errands. He was getting antsy and bored.”
“What’s that you’ve got there?” He unbuttoned his coat and disappeared into the hall to hang it in the closet.
A moment later, he was back in the kitchen, his suit jacket over his arm.
He placed it on the back of a chair and, as was his habit, opened a cabinet and took out two wineglasses. “Red or white tonight?” he asked Kit.
“Neither, thanks.” She waved away the offer. Rather than try to explain, she handed the packet of paper to her husband. “It’s so involved. Just read this. Start with the letter from Jeremy Banks.”
“Who’s Jeremy Banks?” Russ sat next to her at the island. “What is this?”
“Just . . . read.” It was too exhausting to try to explain.
Kit supposed she could have simply said, My aunt Maxine died and left her estate to me.
But that overlooked the part where her mother had always declared she had no siblings, so she’d have to explain who Maxine was.
Exhausting. He could read it all just as she had.
He slid his glasses up a little farther on his nose before taking the sheaf of paper from her hand.
Kit watched his face as he went through the packet, reading each page in its turn.
Why did it seem, she wondered, that men’s faces didn’t wrinkle as early as women’s seemed to do?
When she and Russ first met, everyone said he looked like Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
Looking at him objectively, Kit thought he still did.
“Is this for real?” Russ waved the will in his hand.
“I didn’t think so when he called the other day. I thought it was a scam and I blocked his number. I haven’t called him since this package arrived, but it all looks very real to me. What with the deeds and the copies of the will and all.”
He looked at the deeds and the map. “How much do you think it’s all worth?”
Kit moved away from him slightly. “Are you serious? That’s your first thought? How much is it worth?”
“Well, yeah. Wasn’t that yours?”
“No. My first thought was that it had to be a scam because my mother always said she was an only child. She never—not one time in her life—mentioned that she had a sister named Maxine.” She grabbed the pile of papers from him. “That’s the first thing I thought of.”
“Obviously that part of the story is more immediate to you than it is to me. I’m just looking at this as some gift from the universe that could come in handy with me retiring soon. That’s what’s most immediate in my mind.”
“I thought you said your retirement package was amazing and our investments were solid.”
“It is, and they are. But let’s face it, I’m only sixty.
I could live another thirty-some years. We want to maintain our lifestyle, don’t we?
” He stared at his glass, swirling the contents around slowly.
Not waiting for her response, he added, “There’s a lot I’d like to do during my retirement years, you know. ”
“You’re retiring young. You could have waited a bit longer, you know.”
“And be too old to do what I want to do with the rest of my life? Uh-uh. I had the opportunity to retire early and I took it. I want to be young enough to enjoy my retirement.”
“Like what kind of things are you planning?”
“Something more interesting than camping in the Maine woods.”
For reasons she couldn’t understand, the dismissive manner in which he said the Maine woods annoyed her.
“Specifically, like what?”
“We’ll talk about that another time. Right now, I’m going to change and then I’m going to watch the news. Were you planning on making dinner?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t given it a thought.”
“Take-out Thai all right?” He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair where he’d draped it earlier.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
“Call the lawyer, Kit. I bet Banks could give you a rundown on what it’s all worth, and he’d probably be happy to sell the property for you, for a commission.
Sell the woods, sell the campgrounds. Lakefront property goes for big bucks everywhere.
Sell the house and everything in it. Then he can send you a check for all of it.
You’ll get a nice little windfall thanks to Aunt .
. . whatever her name was. The only thing you’ll have to do is sign your name.
You won’t even have to travel to Maine.”
“Maxine. Her name was Maxine.” She watched him leave the room, the wineglass forgotten on the counter.
Could she really sell the house with everything in it without ever stepping inside?
Without even knowing what that everything included?
Were there still bits of her mother there?
Her grandparents? Were there photographs?
She bet there would be. Anyone who held on to the thought of a sister she hadn’t seen for as many years as Maxine obviously had must have valued her family ties.
And what might Kit discover about Maxine herself, this mysterious aunt of hers? What had she looked like? How had she spent the years while her sister had been raising a family in Pennsylvania? Would it be possible for Kit to learn what had happened to drive such a wedge between the sisters?
Kit’s conscience tugged at her: There was still the matter of her mother having kept that sister a secret all these years. Obviously if she’d wanted Kit to know about Maxine—and what had caused their estrangement—she’d have told her. Whatever it was, it must have been monumental.
Did Kit owe it to her mother not to discover what she’d obviously taken pains to hide all these years, to respect her silence and not delve into the past? Or did Kit owe it to herself and her sister to find out all she could about the family they’d never met?
Of their birth family, Kit and Beth had only each other.
The opportunity to find the answers to all the questions Maxine had bequeathed to her would probably never come again: There was no one left to ask, and once the property was sold, there was no going back.
Someone else would sift through whatever was left of her family in that house, and most likely sell or discard it all.
The more she thought about it, the more Kit believed that Maxine had made a conscious decision to lure her to Maine.
Had she intended for Kit to discover whatever it was that her mother wanted kept hidden?
Had the feud been the result of some petty slight that had turned into an out-and-out war between the sisters?
Or was there something Maxine felt so strongly that Kit needed to know that she’d reached out for her in a way that Kit couldn’t ignore, and that Barbara was powerless to thwart?
But if there was something Maxine wanted Kit to know, why hadn’t she contacted her before she died? Kit’s mother, Barbara, had been gone for two years. Surely in the months between, Maxine could have picked up the phone and called her, written to her, even had Banks intercede for her.
Unless Maxine didn’t know where her sister was until she somehow found Barbara’s obituary.
Of course, Maxine could have made Kit her heir simply because she didn’t have anyone else to leave it all to.
Or maybe what she’d left to Kit was a monumental headache and Maxine’s way of getting back at Barbara.
Since there’s nothing I can do to disrupt your life now, I’m going to throw a wrench into your daughter’s.
Curiouser and curiouser. So many questions!
The choice was hers: Dive in, or leave those doors closed forever.
Kit looked at the will again. The Camp in the Meadows, acres of woods, a lake. The house in which her mother had grown up. A secret family legacy that could put to rest all the questions that were spinning around in her head.
Without thinking further, she took the phone from her pocket and, sliding the letter from Jeremy Banks closer, entered the phone number for Banks, Anderson, and Banks.
“Ah, Mrs. Porterfield,” the attorney greeted her when he picked up the call. “So nice to hear from you. I trust you’ve read through the documents I sent?”
“I did. I do need to apologize for my rudeness,” she said. “Beyond that, I don’t know what to say. I’m very confused. My mother always maintained she was an only child. I don’t know what to make of this.”
“I understand. My call must have come as a shock. But as you can see from the material I sent you, you have in fact inherited a property that has been in your family for generations.” He paused. “Have you made arrangements to come to Tolerance?”
“Not yet. I’m trying to decide when I’ll be able to do that. Family obligations here, you understand.”
“Of course. You’d be wise to wait another month or so.
It’s still the dead of winter here in Maine.
We’ve had quite a lot of snow recently, and with the camp being outside of town, it might be difficult for you to navigate the roads.
” He hastened to add, “Of course, it’s up to you.
We’d love to meet with you whenever you make the trip. ”
“I think perhaps the beginning of April would be possible for me, if that works for you.”
“Of course. I’m here whenever a trip north works best for you.” He paused. “We were very fond of your aunt. She was . . . well, a unique character.”