“My grandmother was a generous woman who was sometimes taken advantage of by people who recognized that generosity.”
“Is that what Eleanor was?
Someone who took advantage?”
He picked up his water glass.
“Eleanor was a woman who spent forty years nursing a grievance.
I’m sorry she suffered.
I genuinely am.
But suffering doesn’t create a legal entitlement.”
I looked at him across the table.
At the careful composure.
At the water glass he was holding slightly too tightly.
“She recorded everything,” I said.
“Every conversation she had about this trust.
Every letter.
Every phone call.” I watched his hand.
“Including the one your attorney made to the hospice administrator fourteen months ago.
Asking whether Eleanor had any visitors who might have a claim on her estate.”
The water glass went back to the table.
“That call was routine due diligence,” he said.
“It was made four days after Eleanor’s volunteer application — with my birthday on it — was accessed from the hospice’s administrative system.” I kept my voice level.
