The Lake of Dreams - Kim Edwards [174]
“I think Avery’s right,” I said. Though Yoshi and I were no closer to jobs and had no idea where we’d end up living next, I’d started seeing that the change could be a good one for us both. Plus, not looking to the future so much had made the present moment all the more vivid.
“Glad you’ve got such a great attitude,” Blake said.
I smiled. “Well, both Yoshi and I are unemployed, so to keep myself sane I’ve decided that worry is a waste of energy. Yoshi’s going to make curried noodles for dinner. Want to stay?”
“Sounds good.”
We pulled out the Chinese checkers and played until the sun began to set.
The meeting with the lawyers had been set for four o’clock the next afternoon. It didn’t end until close to six. My mother pulled into the driveway, gravel popping under her tires. I met her on the back steps.
“Well?” I said. “Blake must have called three times already. What happened?”
“Let’s go sit on the patio,” she said.
So we did. Yoshi stayed upstairs, working on the job search, while my mother explained what had happened. It seemed the will was valid, and Iris did indeed have a claim on the estate. But so much time had passed that her claim could be challenged, and though the will had been properly signed and notarized, no one knew for certain how it had ended up in the wall. If my grandfather had put it there, it was fraud. If my great-grandfather had done it, it was a change of heart. Iris was aware of all of this. Ned had also done enough research to understand the complexities of what was going on with the depot land, and with Art’s desire to buy my mother out and annex this property to lots along the marsh with his upscale development in mind. He knew about the temporary stays on the sales initiated by the Iroquois and by the conservation groups.
“So they came up with a rather amazing plan,” my mother said. “They asked that the land remain ours, but that a legal document be drawn up so that it can never be developed. Something like the Forever Farms program—have you heard of that? Their whole family has been involved for years with the Nature Conservancy, and so they know all about this process. If everyone agrees, I can keep this land and this house as long as I want, and then sell it to the conservancy if I ever desire to leave. But I can’t sell to anyone else, and I can’t develop it myself. Art would have to agree to contribute the adjacent acres he’s purchased as well. Essentially, what they’re suggesting would preserve the marshes. Your father would have loved that. The white deer would be protected, and all the wildlife, because this would involve quite a lot of acreage. Plus, this plan would allow for Oliver and the church to keep the chapel intact, which they’ve been lobbying hard to do. The idea is that it would be used for services and weddings and so forth again. It would be preserved and maintained as an artistic heritage site under the auspices of the Westrum Foundation, but independent of both the Westrum House and the conservancy.”
“So—that’s quite a plan. What’s not to like?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It seems like there must be a catch, but I can’t see one, and neither could the lawyer. We’re all going to think it over. But I think this deal was offered in goodwill. I think they have no desire to end up in court.”
“But why would they do this? I mean, the land is worth a lot of money. I just don’t understand why they’d let it go.”
My mother shook her head. “I don’t know, of course. But Iris is ninety-five years old. She doesn’t need the money. Her sons have done very well, and they’re both pushing seventy. And after that it starts to become a lot of arguing in court about money that’s going to people who have almost no connection to the events that set all this in motion. They’d have made a different decision fifty years ago, I’m sure. But now—now they’d rather have this land given in their name, and ours. It’s a beautiful thing to do, if it’s real.”
It was real, it turned out, and in the end they hammered out a deal. Art was the last to agree,