June turned.
“He wrote this before he went into hospice.”
Carol didn’t answer.
June pulled out the bank card Mr. Albright had given her.
On the back was a handwritten phone number.
And below it:
Ask for Helen Ward.
There was another line.
She knows everything.
Nobody slept that night.
At least not me.
June called the number at 8:12 the next morning.
A woman answered.
“Salina National.”
June hesitated.
“My name is June Parker.”
Silence.
Then the woman said:
“Mr. Parker’s granddaughter?”
June’s eyes met mine.
“Yes.”
The woman took a breath.
“I’ve been expecting your call.”
June sat straighter.
“How long?”
“Since your grandfather died.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Helen Ward. I was his private banking officer.”
June looked at the papers spread across the table.
“How much money did he have?”
Helen paused.
“Which account?”
June stared at me.
“Which account?”
Helen answered carefully.
“The one your grandfather left instructions for you to access.”
June’s voice became quieter.
“How many accounts are there?”
Another pause.
“Three.”
Mark, who had apparently arrived without anyone inviting him, froze in the doorway.
June saw him.
She turned away.
“How much?”
Helen said a number.
June’s face went pale.
She put the phone on speaker.
Helen repeated it.
“$1.8 million.”
Nobody breathed.
Dale whispered, “What?”
June asked, “Is that all?”
Helen replied:
“No.”
June’s hand tightened around the phone.
“What do you mean, no?”
“The money in those accounts is separate from the trust.”
“What trust?”
Helen was silent.
Then she said:
“Mr. Parker established a family trust twenty-one years ago.”
Mark stepped into the kitchen.
“For whom?”
Helen answered.
“That depends on which document you read.”
June’s heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
Helen said:
“You.”
Mark slammed his palm on the counter.
“That’s impossible!”
Helen heard him.
“Mr. Parker specifically instructed us not to discuss the trust with anyone except June Marie Parker.”
Mark grabbed the phone.
“Listen—”
June took it from him.
“Don’t.”
Mark stared at her.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
Not angry.
Afraid.
June said into the phone:
“Helen, what exactly did my grandfather put into the trust?”
Helen answered:
“Land.”
June closed her eyes.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
The next morning, Mr. Albright came to the house.
He looked older than he had at the reading.
He carried a leather briefcase.
When he saw Mark, Dale, Carol, and the others in the living room, he stopped.
“I asked June to meet me privately.”
Carol stood.
“We’re family.”
Mr. Albright sighed.
“Mrs. Wilson, I have explained this already.”
Carol’s cheeks reddened.
He turned to June.
“Your grandfather anticipated this.”
June almost smiled.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Albright opened his briefcase.
“He knew there would be questions.”
He pulled out a folder.
“He also knew some of those questions would not be asked politely.”
