Changes Coming Down

by Kaje Harper

  He breathed through his nose and let the eulogies from Annmarie’s book club and Graham’s fishing buddies roll over him. He didn’t need their words to know what he’d lost. Eventually it was over, and the choir sang another hymn. Then it was time to carry the coffins out to the graveyard behind the church.

  He let Casey guide him to Annmarie’s. He gripped the first handle, aware of Casey behind him, and the oldest of the Gonzales’s sons across the polished surface from him. He wondered who’d arranged things. Graham had been an organized man and he’d left detailed instructions for the prepaid funeral, but someone must’ve put this together. Landon was lifting Graham’s casket from the matching spot to Will’s. Will only recognized half of the men helping him, perhaps also sons of the Slaters’ friends. His mind flitted from one thing to another, unable to latch on to a thought.

  Then Casey said, “Will, now.” And it was time to lift the casket and take Annmarie to her final rest.

  The graveside service was short, in the November chill. The crowd under the trees on the little headstone-studded hill began to disperse. Several people stopped as they came past him to offer a few words, and he thought Louise would’ve hugged him if he’d been able to unfreeze enough to lean towards her. In the end she patted his arm. He nodded and said, “Thank you.” What else was there to say? There was no reception planned. Maybe he should’ve done something back at the house, but he couldn’t imagine it.

  Landon paused beside him, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “We have an appointment for the will at Chris Dainbridge’s office at three. We won’t wait if you’re late.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll be there.”

  Landon walked on without another word.

  Casey murmured, “Go or stay?”

  The graves were still open to the sky, filled with no more than symbolic handfuls of dirt. Probably someone with a backhoe would do the real job later. He could go look down and say goodbye, now the crowd was gone. But his goodbyes had been said over the last few days, working the Slaters’ land, riding Graham’s fence line and washing Annmarie’s front windows, grooming Graham’s retired gelding and digging the last of the compost into Annmarie’s kitchen garden. “I’m done.”

  Casey touched him for the first time, a hand under his elbow to turn him toward the road.

  He shivered at the touch. The world came back into sharper focus and he had to brace himself to stop his knees shaking. “They’re gone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s up to me, now. Everything.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  “I know. Thank God.” He put a hand over his pocket, where his phone had a dozen messages of support from Scott. The Marlies had a game in Utica, and Will had told Scott he’d shoot him with Casey’s gun if he tried to ditch it to come home. Will had lived through worse than this, when he was much younger. He didn’t need coddling, even if it was good to have a guy who wanted to give that to him.

  Speaking of coddling— “You probably need to get back to work, right?”

  Casey shook his head. “I’m my own boss. I can take time off.”

  “Yeah. It’s okay though.” He pulled his arm out of Casey’s grip. “I’m good. I’m going to get something to eat and then go meet with that lawyer.”

  Casey gave him a steady look. Scott might’ve called bullshit on him, but Casey knew sometimes you made it through shit by just saying you would and putting one foot after the other, even when you thought you were drowning. Casey gave him a slow nod. “You’ll call if there’s something I can help with?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t want someone with you for the reading of the will?”

  “Not sure that’s allowed. Anyway, the lawyer’ll be there. Landon’s not gonna do anything.”

  “He’ll probably be pissed.”

  “Won’t matter to me.”

  “You won’t get some noble impulse to give up your rights, just because he’s their flesh and blood?”

  Will shook his head. Sure, he’d had those thoughts a dozen times since getting that letter from Graham and Annmarie. But Landon’s dry eyes, and Louise’s kindness, had firmed up his resolve. “He doesn’t love their ranch, not like I do. They’re trusting it to me, half anyway. That matters more.”

  Casey thumped him on the shoulder. “Right. I hope it goes okay. Call me, and I’ll see you home tonight.”

  “Yep.” He stayed where he was, watching Casey stride off toward the road. The sun moved behind a cloud and he shivered. His suit jacket wasn’t close to warm enough. He pulled out his phone to check the time— two hours to kill. Despite his big words to Casey, he wasn’t going to be able to choke down any food, and he wasn’t going to sit in the diner drinking coffee and listening to people gabbing about the funeral.

  He decided to go home and get changed. Damned if he was freezing his ass off for hours to look spiffy for the lawyer. Graham and Annmarie hadn’t given him half the ranch because he wore a suit. Landon could just take him as he came, which meant jeans and his shearling coat and a damned hat. He headed back to his truck.

  Two hours later, he was kind of second-guessing that choice. Landon was still in his black Armani or Gucci or whatever it was, looking like a runway model, and Chris Dainbridge, the lawyer, wore something just as spiffy in charcoal gray. Even the secretary had a silky dress and spike heels. The conference room they’d been shown into had a thick pile carpet and a polished wooden table and chairs. Will felt like the country cousin.

  On the other hand, his one suit would’ve just looked shabby. Maybe better to be himself. At least his boots didn’t pinch his toes. He set his Stetson on the table and folded his arms across his chest.

  Landon sat too, leaving a pointedly empty chair between them. He said to the lawyer, “Will this take long? I have to head to the airport in an hour.”

  Dainbridge shook his head. “The will’s pretty simple. I’m the executor, and I filed the probate petition and will with the court yesterday. There will be some legal details moving forward, like final tax filings. I’ll publish the notice making sure all the creditors put in their claims on the assets. It can take up to six months to close out the estate.”

  “You mean I have to wait six months before I get my inheritance?” Landon shook his head sharply. “That can’t be right.”

  “If you need money sooner, some banks will do an inheritance loan or advance.”

  “For a steep fee, I bet.”

  “There is a cost, yes.” Dainbridge opened the folder in front of him. “Why don’t I go through the will first, and then we can talk about your options.”

  Landon glanced toward Will, then away. “Yes, go ahead.”

  Dainbridge read through the first part of the will, which left a variety of small amounts and keepsakes to their friends, including a thousand-dollar bonus to each current employee of the ranch at the time of their deaths, other than Will.

  That’s good. The hands will appreciate it.

  Dainbridge paused. “Mr. Rice—”

  “Will.”

  “Will, I’ll need the names and contacts for all their current employees with certification of their dates of hire.”

  “Sure. Can do.”

  Landon said, “How many people is that? Ten thousand, fifteen thousand dollars?”

  Will let his lip curl slightly at the reduction of people to dollars. “You’re in luck. We’re down to the winter hands. Five people.”

  Landon pushed his chair out to face Will. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’d give up the money to have Grandpa and Grandma out there on their ranch, doing the thing they loved best. But that’s not happening. Some bastard of a drunk driver took that away from me.”

  From us. Will kept silent.

  “But since I can’t fix it, I want it done. I want the ranch sold, the money in my bank, all the ends tied up. Done.”

  Dainbridge said, “Sadly, it’s never that simple. Perhaps if I finish the bequests first?”

  Land
on sat back in his chair and flicked his hand at the lawyer to continue.

  Dainbridge said, “The residue of the estate, including all real estate, equipment, livestock, personal possessions, and financial instruments including cash, is to be divided in equal shares between their grandson, Landon Richard Slater, and their ranch manager of twenty years, William David Rice.”

  “Equal!” Landon stared at Will.

  He returned the look as coolly as he could, not moving.

  “The Slaters hoped that perhaps the ranch might continue to prosper as a joint investment between the two young men they considered family,” Dainbridge continued. “But should either party wish to sell, the other is to be given a right of first refusal to purchase, at the fairly appraised value.”

  Landon shook his head. “I’m family. He’s a jumped-up drifter they decided to take in and treat better than they ever treated my mother.”

  Your mother left the ranch for city lights, never looked back, and died swimming in the ocean while drunk. Will didn’t know all the details of the Slaters’ family tragedy which had happened a few years before he landed on Graham’s front step, but he couldn’t imagine they’d been anything less than good parents.

  Dainbridge said, “You could contest the will, but you would lose. The Slaters discussed their plans clearly with me on more than one occasion. There was no undue influence and no lack of competence. And they would be very disappointed in you.”

  Landon pushed to his feet. “You said I could get an inheritance advance, right? How do I make that happen?”

  “Nothing can happen until all the tangible property is appraised.”

  “What about the stuff in the house? Can I take my share?”

  “After it’s inventoried, and the other bequests are completed, you and Will can contact me to come to an agreement on personal property.”

  Landon glanced at Will. “How do you know he’s not taking things out of the house now? He’s right there and he has a key.”

  Will let his tone slip to a drawl. “I don’t steal. But you’re more’n welcome to stick ’round and help do inventory.”

  “I have a plane to catch.” Landon turned to Dainbridge. “You’ll get that appraisal done soon and let me know the total, right?”

  “I’ll do that.” As Landon strode to the door, Dainbridge added to his back, “My condolences on your loss.”

  Landon hesitated, muttered, “Thank you,” and left.

  Dainbridge shuffled the papers back into the folder and gave Will a wry look. “Reading wills can be divisive. I’m sure he’ll settle down.”

  Will shrugged. “Tell me what I can do to keep the ranch intact. What about keeping it running? Do I need to get your okay to spend money on feed or vet bills, or pay the hands? I have signing authority on the ranch account, but I don’t know if that carries over.” He rubbed his face, realizing all the changes that were hitting him. “Can you advise me? I can’t pay you, at least not for a while.” When he inherited his half of the ranch, he’d be richer than he ever imagined, although Graham had called it “land rich and money poor.”

  “You don’t have to pay me. My fees come out of the estate. I know the Slaters’ first concern would be to keep the ranch operational, and they trusted you to do that. Submit those bills to me.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He ducked his head, looking down as his eyes stung. “Don’t know if I can make it work, keep it up like they’d want. What was that right of first refusal again?”

  “You get the chance to buy Landon Slater’s half, before he puts it up for sale to anyone else. If you have the money, you could even offer him the purchase price as an advance, if you want him out of your hair sooner. I could work up a contract for you.” Dainbridge’s expression seemed sympathetic. “But you’d have to come up with the cash. I don’t do much real estate, but I’d bet that’ll be pushing a million dollars, if not more.”

  Will put on his hat as he stood, even if that was rude indoors. The brim shaded his face. He said, “I’ll work on that.” Like it wasn’t an insane amount of money. Like Scotty couldn’t get called up to the damn NHL and still not be able to hand him that kind of cash. He held out his hand. “Thanks for all your help.”

  Dainbridge shook hands firmly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  There was no reason those simple, obviously rote words should’ve almost broken Will. He held it together till he got outside, though. He had his pride.

  Chapter 5

  Casey parked his truck with neat precision in his parents’ driveway, and sat there. The house hadn’t changed since the last time he’d come here, almost five years ago. Or maybe he should say, the mansion hadn’t changed. Because as quirky as this house was, anything with eight bedrooms, a media room, and an indoor pool was a mansion, even if the pool was heated with solar power and the media room was mainly used to show documentaries approved by Greenpeace.

  It was built into a hillside, cradled in earth-berm. On either side, the ground sloped away in graceful arcs. The huge south-facing windows sparkled in the late afternoon sun, beneath the swooping curve of the retractable overhang. It looked like some enormous alien bird, rising from the soil, with turf turning from green to brown across its shoulders. It totally suited his parents.

  He’d never lived here.

  He got out, his big truck hulking beside an unfamiliar two-door hybrid parked out on the drive. He wondered whether he should wait until whoever it was had gone. There was a good chance this wouldn’t be pretty. But the day had been long and he was tired, and he had the feeling if he didn’t do this now, he’d lose his nerve. He went up the walk and rang the bell.

  The door swung open to reveal his sister, Theresa. She took a step backward, her mouth open in shock. “Casey? What’re you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to Mom and Dad.” When she just stood in the way, staring at him, he added, “Can I come in?”

  “I suppose so.” She didn’t open the door further, though, forcing him to dodge around her into the foyer.

  He pulled off his cap and stood twisting it in his hands. It wasn’t his uniform hat. He’d resisted the temptation to rub his job in his parents’ faces. “Are the folks home?”

  “In the lounge.”

  “Do they have guests?”

  “Nope.” She was wearing her jacket, scarf, and gloves, with a sleek fabric purse over her shoulder as if on her way out, but she closed the front door without going through it, pulling off her gloves.

  “Don’t let me keep you,” he said. “I can find the way.”

  “If you think I’m going to leave and let you get them all upset, think again.”

  “I don’t plan to get them upset.”

  “Right. Like you didn’t join the military, the damned Marines at that, and then become a military cop, and then, when you were finally out, you didn’t go off and become a civilian cop. You’d never upset them. Do you even know how much you’ve hurt Mom?”

  “My job has nothing to do with them.”

  “Bullshit. You rebelled every step of the way. You deliberately became everything they abhorred.”

  “If I’d meant to do that, I’d have worked on an oil rig. Or a bank.”

  “Or as part of the military-industrial complex, killing foreign nationals to protect our oil supply.”

  Casey sighed. They’d had this fight before and he never managed to make her understand there was a good side, an honorable side, to service. They all assumed he wanted to be a soldier, and a cop, out of some sort of power trip. He’d been accused of being blind and ignorant in his obedience to hierarchy and rules. They couldn’t see his side. Particularly since he would never, ever, tell any of them why he really joined in the first place. “I just want to talk to them.”

  She crossed her arms. “Are you going to make Mom cry?”

  “She doesn’t cry.” Angry tears, maybe, but Mom was an ecowarrior and a fighter. He was pretty sure he’d been closer to losing it than she had, in their most epic fig
hts.

  “She lost one kid, and then you made it two. You left, so what would you know? I was still here, and yeah, she cries.”

  She didn’t lose me. She threw me away. He couldn’t let himself get sidetracked into old hurts. “Look, I’m not here to fight with them. I promise.”

  “I’ll let them know.” She hurried off down the hall.

  Casey followed on her heels, arriving as she said, “Mom, you’ll never guess who showed up…”

  He said over her, “Hey, Mom. Dad.”

  “Casey!” His mother stood up and came to him. He was enfolded in a eucalyptus-scented hug.

  His father said coolly, “What brings you here, Case?”

  His mom frowned. “Can’t you just be glad to see him?”

  “I’m betting he wants something. Isn’t that right, son?”

  Casey winced, but answered steadily, “Yes. I do.”

  Theresa said, “I should’ve guessed.”

  His dad held up a hand. “Now, Terri, we’ll hear him out. Say your piece, Casey.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Mom gave him a squeeze and let go. “Well, I don’t want to know about it yet. Let’s have some family time first. Stay to dinner. Tell us about yourself lately.”

  Teresa said. “Didn’t you hear the news? He’s lost his job as a cop. I guess we’ll find out how he plans to tromp all over your principles next.”

  “Theresa!” his mom chided.

  Casey drawled, “I’m flattered you’ve been following my career so closely.”

  “I follow election news, of course,” Theresa returned. “You’d have had to be around for the last, oh, fifteen years, for me to care.”

  “Hush, children! Theresa, your brother’s here now. Can we enjoy that?” Mom raised an eyebrow.

  Theresa looked down. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Casey, come sit and tell me what you’ve been doing when you’re not arresting people.”

  Casey let his mother draw him over to the couch, upholstered in a fabric he knew was made from renewable bamboo. It was slippery and he settled carefully against the back. Instead of sitting beside him, she went to the bookcase and brought back a large illustrated book. “Here. Look at this. My latest.”