“I realize this is a sensitive time,” she said, without sounding sensitive at all, “but planning ahead is healthy. George had no other children. Lydia certainly won’t need every piece of property he owned.”
She glanced at me.
“A grieving woman needs support, not financial burdens.”
Under the table, Ethan pressed his hand against my knee.
“Say something supportive,” he muttered.
I looked directly at him.
“I support my father’s wishes.”
His expression hardened.
Martin entered carrying a leather folio and a cardboard box.
He took his seat at the head of the table.
“Before we begin,” he said, “everyone should understand that this proceeding is being recorded.”
Caleb shifted in his chair.
“Why would it need to be recorded?”
“Standard precaution in estates where disputes may arise.”
Ethan gave a short laugh.
“Disputes? There’s nothing to dispute.”
Martin looked at me.
I gave him a slight nod.
He opened the folio.
“George Harper executed his final will six weeks ago. It was properly witnessed and notarized, and it includes documentation from his physician confirming that he was mentally competent at the time.”
Nobody moved.
Martin continued.
“The will places Harper Auto Supply, Mr. Harper’s residence, farmland, investment accounts, and liquid assets into the Harper Family Protection Trust.”
Ethan’s face brightened.
