Page 9 of Six Month Wife
“I have an odd question,” I say, straightening in my seat. “Is this common knowledge? I mean, now that he’sgone, will the family be notified about the estate? That he left it to me?”
“Not odd at all,” Anders replies. “It’s a common concern in these situations. And to answer your question, no. Vermont doesn't require public notice unless someone files a claim or requests access. Only named parties are notified. Otherwise, someone would have to know where to look and have a reason to dig.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“There is one stipulation I need to inform you about,” the attorney adds, his voice careful now. “Before the estate can vest, the primary beneficiary, meaning you, must be legally married.”
I blink several times as his words digest. “Married? Uncle Roger knew I wasn't married or seriously dating...”
“Yes. Not engaged, not cohabiting. You have to be legally married. And the marriage must last a minimum of six months.”
“Wait. What? I don't understand what you're saying. Why?”
“He didn’t give a reason, at least not to me. But he was very specific. The language he used was interesting, to say the least.”
“How interesting?”
A rustle of papers. “Quote—‘with genuine intent to uphold the union for the foreseeable future.’”
I rub a hand over my face, savoring the roughness of my five o'clock shadow against my hand. For Christ's sake, of course he did. This has Roger written all over it. Not a test of love. A test ofexecution. And if I know him, there’s a loophole tucked somewhere out of sight.
“He left you a letter, too. What is your email address? I’ll forward the scanned copy and mail the original.”
“What, like a will-and-testament ‘from the grave’ kind of thing?”
“Yes, here it is. I'll let you decipher, but I think it will explain his thinking better than I could.”
I stare at the wall, trying to process while I rattle off my email on autopilot. “And when do I have to get married, I mean, to comply?”
“Before the will’s execution date. You have roughly thirty days.”
“Thirty days?! Are you serious?”
“I wish I were kidding.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then the estate defaults to the three nonprofits Roger listed. Two based in New Orleans and one international.”
I slump back in my chair. Of course he’d pick something meaningful and then lace it with tripwires. Nothing with Roger was ever simple. Everything was deliberate and designed to be a puzzle, waiting to be solved.
“And if I get married, then file for divorce on day one-eighty-three?” I ask, testing the boundaries.
The attorney doesn’t flinch. “Technically, you’d satisfy the terms.”
I let out a rough laugh, more out of nervousness and disbelief that this is real.“Wow. My mind is blown right now. This was not a phone call I ever expected to get.”
I mostly zone out the rest of what he's saying because my mind can't handle any more input at the moment. While I huff and puff my way through absorbing all this, he keeps pushing forward with the business end.
“I’ve emailed you the scanned letter Roger wrote. Check your inbox. It should be there now. The original will, the handwritten note, and a certified copy of everything will be overnighted to your current address.”
I open my laptop while we are still on the phone and don't offer a response.
“If you need anything else, we’re here.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “I think.”
“My condolences again, Dr. Matthews.”
