Page 6 of Leave It to Us
“Contractor and account information? Additional terms?” Yvonne asked and then sighed. “Why don’t you just tell us everything right now, Robyn. This piecemeal thing you’re doing is starting to get annoying.”
“Agreed,” Lana said.
Robyn gave a nod as if she’d expected that sentiment. “It’s all in the files I had my assistant compile for you. There’s a lot of information there, so you don’t have to try and digest it all now. But to sum this all up, your grandmother wants the three of you to renovate the house and then decide whether you’ll keep it or sell it. She selected the contractor—a native to the island—who she trusted would preserve the historical integrity of the place but also respect your ‘more modern opinions,’ as she wrote in her notes.”
That last part was said with a sort of chuckle from Robyn, which irked the hell out of Yvonne. Robyn hadn’t known Grandma Betty. How could she have known that something like this would’ve totally entertained the old woman?
Her grandmother had known the sisters were like oil and water; she’d been the one who’d told them that time and time again, with a slap of a hand to her knee as she sat in one of those big white rocking chairs on her front porch—diamonds glittering from the rings on her fingers, her hair perfectly styled as if she had a show to do later that night. Grandma Betty had also known that Tami loved the island and the summerhouse way more than Yvonne or Lana ever had. Her slickcomments each year when they arrived for Thanksgiving, wishing that there’d be some situation that forced them back to the island for more than a long weekend once a year, were a sure giveaway.
That quick flash of memory had Yvonne releasing a quiet gasp, her eyes shifting from Robyn down to the open file on her lap, the picture of that house with its huge front porch staring up at her.
“So we just need to fix this house up and sell it?” Lana said. “That shouldn’t take too long.”
“Hold up,” Tami said, shaking her head. She closed the file on her lap and looked to her right and then her left—from where Lana sat to where Yvonne sat. Then she looked at Robyn. “This house, both houses, and all this land is ours now? And Grandma Betty wants us to sell it?”
Robyn sat back in her chair, her hands falling into her lap. She tilted her head as if she’d been expecting that question from this sister—and again, Yvonne was totally annoyed. This woman didn’t know them well enough to expect any specific reaction, and she certainly didn’t know how they were going to handle all this new information. Well, Yvonne was clueless on that point, too, but she suddenly wanted to leave this office and this entire will and inheritance business behind.
“It doesn’t say specifically that you have to sell,” Robyn answered. “It just says that she wants you to fix up the house and decide.”
“Okay, there’s a number right here,” Lana said, flipping through some of the papers in the file. “All we have to do is call this contractor and have him get started. Then we can get this process underway.”
“With what money?” Yvonne asked. “We don’t have any money to fix up anything. If we did, our mother would have the accessibility she now needs in her house.”
Those words were laced with all the ire Yvonne had been holding toward her sisters for the last year. It had been a little over two years since their mother had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke, and just about twenty-two months since Yvonne had uprooted her life so that she could provide Freda with the care she needed.
Probably sensing there was about to be an explosion of epic proportions between them, Robyn quickly spoke up. “The account I mentioned—it’s an escrow account the contractor has been holding for this very purpose. Elizabeth knew that if she left the money in her account for you ladies to use, it might get tied up in the estate paperwork and legalities. She didn’t want your efforts hampered in any way, so the contractor has fifty thousand dollars and is waiting for the three of you to arrive on the island to begin discussions on the work to be done.”
Yvonne was shaking her head before Robyn finished speaking. “I can’t go to that island. Who’s going to take care of Mama?”
“I have a show to dismantle and meetings with my agent about a book pitch and other possible exhibits,” Lana interjected. “I can’t leave the city.”
“I have to ... I, um ... I-I need to, uh,” Tami stuttered and then grinned. “I’d love to go back to the island.”
After rubbing her temples to calm a slow-brewing headache, Yvonne used both hands to form a T and called, “Time out. I feel like there’s more to this you’re not telling us. So before we all get into our minds what the next step is, I’d like you to just spill it.”
“I’m telling you exactly what I’ve been instructed to tell you via Jeremiah and the terms of Elizabeth’s will,” Robyn stated.
Yvonne only blinked. “What’s the ‘out’ clause?” she asked. “There has to be a way we can avoid all of this construction, escrow accounts, and the dictating of our steps and time. Grandma Betty would’ve given us a choice.” Wouldn’t she? There’d never been a time that her grandmother had come right out and said, “I want the three of you to live in this house,” or done anything regarding this house. There were undertones of wanting them to visit the island more, but that was it. So this will and these stipulations were weird as hell.
“You sure about that?” Tami asked. “She never gave us a choice about eating that nasty okra.”
Now,thatwas a memory Yvonne could have done without. She hated the vegetable too.
“If you do nothing, the house will continue to fall into disrepair and eventually be taken over by the historical society or the bank, who—because of the high value to prime intracoastal property like this—would get at least a million dollars only to have the new owners demolish both houses and build something new.”
Tami gasped. “Demolish the summerhouse?”
“It’s just a house,” Lana said. “And we can delegate the renovations.”
Robyn shook her head. “Elizabeth wants the three of you to stay on the island while the work is being done and leave once you decide what to do with the property.”
Yvonne smirked. “Of course she does.”
“How can she dictate to us from the grave?” Lana asked.
A wry chuckle bubbled up and out of Yvonne then. She rubbed a finger over her chin as the laughter continued. “Because she’s Grandma Betty—the woman who always got her way, no matter what.”
Chapter 4
