Part 3 — Dads Cedar Box
Natalie Brennan stood inside my front hall, shaking out her umbrella, and Carol came in behind her carrying the cedar box in both arms. I had not touched my younger daughter in eight years. I did not say a word. I put my arms around her, box and all, and we stood there while Denise and Brad hovered on the porch.
Natalie asked to sit at Walters dining table. She opened her briefcase and laid out three documents in a neat row. The first was a recorded deed, transferring my house to Denise and Brad two years ago. The second was a power of attorney I had apparently signed. The third was a letter in my late husbands handwriting.
I remembered signing something in a lawyers waiting room. Denise had told me it was a paper to lower my property taxes, and she had pushed a pen into my hand while I looked for my glasses. I had trusted my daughter, and I had not read it. The deed had been recorded the following Monday.
The cedar box held Walters real will, written the winter before he died and witnessed by his barber and the church secretary. It left the house to me for my lifetime, and then to both daughters equally. Beside it was a letter to Carol explaining why he had asked her to hold it, and a note that read, Wait until Denise shows her heart. Then give it to your mother.
Walter loved both of his girls enough to give the truth to the one who would wait for it.
The reason for Carols eight-year silence came out slowly. Denise had accused her of stealing from our mother, and Carol, hurt and proud, had walked away rather than fight. All that time she kept the box, because her father had begged her to, and she believed that someday her sister would show her hand.
Natalie explained the law without hurry. In Iowa, a deed obtained by undue influence over an elderly person can be set aside, and a power of attorney signed without understanding is voidable. She filed a petition that week. A judge reviewed the notary logs, Walters will, and a letter from my doctor describing my eyesight. The deed was declared void.
Denise did not contest it. She sat in the courtroom beside Brad and wept silently. Her attorney negotiated a settlement in which they repaid every payment I had made since the deed, over five years, and agreed to counseling. The district attorney, after speaking to me, did not bring charges. I asked for restitution and an apology, and I got both.
The house was put back in my name, and Walters trust now pays the taxes. Carol moved into the spare room for the summer to help with the garden. In the evenings, we sat on the porch with the cedar box open between us, reading the letters Walter had written over the years, until the fireflies came out.
On Easter Sunday the following year, my table had every chair taken. Denise brought the ham, Brad carved it, and Carol set out the rose-patterned china. Emma sat next to me with her deviled egg. I carried in my lemon cake, and Denise took the tin gently from my hands and said, Mom, please sit down. This one is on us.