Tyler slid a manila folder across the counter, the kind of slow, theatrical move he’d probably practiced in the mirror. “Power of attorney. Guardianship petition. Pick one, Hazel. Either way, that deed transfers to me by Monday.” He leaned in close enough that I could smell his cologne over the yeast. “Nana doesn’t even recognize her own reflection anymore. A judge will sign in twenty minutes.”
I stood up slowly, wiped my hands on my apron, and finally met his eyes. “You’re right,” I said. “She doesn’t remember a lot of things lately.” Tyler smirked. “But she remembered enough eight months ago, when her cardiologist warned her about her blood pressure. We went to her attorney that same week.”
The smirk flickered.
I reached under the register and pulled out a slim blue folder of my own. “Nana transferred the bakery, the building, and the lot into an irrevocable trust last October. I’m the sole trustee. The beneficiaries are the three employees who’ve worked here over twenty years.” I slid the document toward him the same way he’d slid his. “You’re not listed. Not as heir, not as contingent, not as a footnote.”
His face went the color of raw dough. “That’s — she wasn’t competent —”
“She was evaluated by two neurologists the morning she signed. Their reports are attached. Page four.”
The bell above the door jingled. In walked Marjorie, Nana’s attorney, with a uniformed officer behind her. Marjorie set a second envelope on the counter. “Mr. Hollis, this is a cease-and-desist regarding the forged guardianship paperwork you filed Tuesday. The court clerk flagged your signature. We’ve already spoken with the DA.”
Tyler’s folder slipped from his fingers and fanned across the floor.
I crouched down, picked up one page, and held it out to him. “You can keep this copy,” I said softly. “Something to remember the bakery by.”
He left without taking it. The morning regulars clapped. I went back to stocking sourdough, hands steady for the first time in weeks, and whispered a thank-you to a woman three blocks away who’d seen him coming long before I had.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, slow and deliberate, while Brielle’s friends filmed. ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, ‘before you redecorate, you should meet someone.’ The […]
