The Bequest
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Mrs. Brooks? Mrs. Nathaniel Brooks?” I haven’t been called Mrs. Nathaniel Brooks in more than a year, not since before Nate died. It catches me by surprise and leaves me almost unable to speak. “Hello?” “Yes,” I manage to say. “That’s me.” I clear my throat. “Good.” The man shuffles some papers. “My name is Karl Swift.” Something about his voice, perhaps the wobbly timbre, makes me think that Karl is quite old. “What can I help you with, Mr. Swift?” “Er, well, it might be more correct for me to tell you what I think I can help you with.” He sounds like Bilbo Baggins at his birthday party. “Okay.” “I’m actually a lawyer as well—I found your name on your law firm website from a simple search. I’m calling to notify you that last night, I formally read a will that had been posted in all the local papers and online.” “A will for whom?” I still have no idea why he called, and I’m beginning to think he was improperly named–he’s definitely not ‘swift.’ Spit it out, Ol’ Man River! “Jedediah Brooks passed away almost two weeks ago.” Brooks. He’s related to Nate, then. The name finally registers. “Nate’s uncle?” “Even so,” Mr. Swift says. “I’m very sorry to hear that Uncle Jed passed,” I say, rotely. I didn’t meet Nate’s uncle more than a handful of times, and even then we barely exchanged a handful of words. He had a full head of white hair the first time we met, nearly twenty years ago at my wedding to Nate. He must have lived quite a long life. “Thank you. His death was quite a shock, but at least it was quick. Jed always said he wanted it to be fast, not drawn out.” My hand trembles where it’s holding the phone. Nate’s death wasn’t quick at all—and it was so fast I could barely think straight. “Is that why you called? To let me know that he’d passed?” “Not precisely,” Mr. Swift says. “You see, as I understand it, both of Mr. Brooks’ nephews, Nathaniel and Paul, predeceased him.” I murmur my assent. They were both so young. It still sounds so wrong to agree that they’re both dead, even now. “In that case, there is quite a substantial bequest made to your children, Mrs. Brooks.” “Excuse me?” “Jed owned a three thousand, two hundred and eleven acre cattle ranch out here, on the northern side of Utah. It’s one of only six properties in the state that have stayed with the same family continuously, all the way back to the original land grant. In fact, portions of the property are actually in Wyoming, but it’s mostly in a place called Daggett County.” “Are you saying that my children’s great-uncle left them a three-thousand acre ranch?” “Yes, but it’s not quite that simple.” I wish Mr. Swift would cut to the chase. For a lawyer, he certainly lacks in clarity. “What does the will say, then?” “Specifically, it provides that the ranch and all its appurtenances, including the home, a guest house, two large barns, an outbuilding for storage, and some three hundred and fifty head of cattle should be left to your children and the children of Nathaniel’s brother, Paul, per stirpes.” I wonder what something like that is worth. Maybe Ethan could get his Razr after all. “Well, that’s unexpected.” “However.” Mr. Swift rustles more papers. “In order for the bequest to vest, the heirs or, in the case that they’re minors, their appointed guardians, must adequately and actively operate the Birch Creek Ranch for a period of one full year.” “Operate it?” I ask. “Meaning, we can’t just sell it?” “That’s correct. In order for your children to inherit under the terms of the will, you would need to move here and run the ranch for a year.”
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