“Anyone can file something,” Miles said.
“That does not create ownership where none exists.”
Avery stepped closer.
“What about the lake place?”
I watched Miles turn toward her.
“That belongs to Hazel as well.”
Avery actually recoiled.
The lake property had been the Beaumont family’s favorite symbol of itself.
Summer photographs covered its walls.
Frederick spoke about it as though generations of Beaumonts had personally carved the shoreline.
He looked at me with open disbelief.
“You knew?”
“No,” I said.
That was what angered him most.
If I had known, perhaps he could have accused me of manipulating Jasper.
But I had arrived at my husband’s funeral believing I owned nothing they could not take from me.
Frederick turned back to Miles.
“The business is still ours.”
Miles paused.
“No.”
Avery went completely still.
Miles opened another section of the case.
“Jasper’s shares were reorganized into a trust for Hazel and the children.
Hazel has the rights specified in the trust documents.
Toby and Rose are protected beneficiaries.
Neither of you is a trustee.”
Frederick’s voice rose.
“I built that business with my son.”
“I’m not discussing your history,” Miles said.
“I’m telling you the current legal structure.”
Frederick pointed at me.
“She doesn’t know anything about running it.”
I felt Toby move beside me.
Before he could speak, I touched his arm again.
Miles answered for us.
“The trust does not depend on your opinion of Hazel.”
Avery’s composure finally cracked.
“This is ridiculous.
Jasper was sick.
He was frightened.
He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Miles’s expression sharpened.
“I met with Jasper repeatedly.
His capacity was not in question when these decisions were made.”
“He was dying.”
“Yes,” Miles said.
“And that appears to be exactly why he was thinking so carefully about what would happen afterward.”
Nobody spoke.
I remembered Jasper two months earlier, sitting at the kitchen table with a blanket around his shoulders.
He had looked exhausted.
I had been making soup when he asked me to sit beside him.
He had pressed the brown folder into my hands.
“Promise me you won’t open this early.”
I had tried to joke.
“What is it, instructions for finding your secret fortune?”
He had smiled, but his eyes had not.
