Catherine tapped her foot impatiently on the hardwood floors, "Uncle Lawson is taking his time."

Melanie frowned, pinching her lips into a sour expression. "He's a busy man," she snapped. "He can't just drop everything and come running home because his niece gets some strange idea in her head."

​​

"I would think potential legal action would be more important to him, but if he doesn't care, we can begin without him," she said.

"There's no need for that," Melanie said with a nervous glance at Clark. "I'm sure he'll be here soon enough."

"I suppose we can wait," she said. "But I don't want to ruin Mr. Foster's plans—I'm sure he has to be in court soon."

Melanie looked between Catherine and Clark—as her eyes darted back and forth, the disdainful mask slipped from her face, revealing pale fear. She grabbed her phone and fingered it nervously.

"I'll call him and check," she finally said.

"Good idea," Catherine replied.

"It would be helpful if I could tell him what he's rushing back for," Melanie pressed.

"I think it's best to wait to discuss this until all concerned parties are present," Clark interjected.

Catherine smiled serenely, "Mr. Foster has always given good legal advice. I think it's best we listen to him."

"Fine," Melanie said, stalking toward the door.

"By the way, can you make us more coffee?" Catherine asked. "I don't think there's enough."

Her aunt paused at the door and cast a dark look over her shoulder. She opened her mouth as if to say something but then snapped it shut and disappeared into the hallway. Moments later, her face peered around the door. Her cellphone was pressed to her ear, and worry lines creased her forehead.

"Is it Sean?" Melanie asked.

"What?" Catherine said.

"Is Sean coming?" Melanie asked.

"No," Catherine replied.

Melanie's face relaxed in relief, and she disappeared back into the hallway. Catherine turned away from the door and began to pace nervous circles around the living room. She looked at her stepmother and her younger brother, hoping she hadn't made a mistake. She trusted Clark, but what if he couldn't deliver on his promises? What if Lawson had more tricks up his sleeve?

She continued to pace, trying to ignore Maria's worried eyes and the sudden surge of guilt. She'd imagined it all so differently. In her mind's eye, she'd seen Maria and Samuel from four years ago, triumphantly lounging in their old living room. But Maria and Samuel had changed and so had the living room.

Maria's silky long hair had turned coarse and gray, and she wore it pulled back in a severe, unstylish bun. Wrinkles and worry lines creased around her eyes and her mouth. In the bright sunlight streaming through the window, she looked haggard and old.

Samuel looked different too. The easygoing, relaxed boy she'd known had disappeared, replaced by a nervous, jumpy teenager. His wide eyes darted around the room as if he was looking for an escape. Instead of slouching back on the sofa, he sat at the very edge, ready to bolt.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Maria's gentle voice asked. "It's clear we're not welcome here."

Catherine crossed the room and took Maria's hand in hers. Four years of labor had turned her soft skin hard and calloused. Catherine squeezed the rough hand gently on her own.

"I promise I know what I'm doing," she said. She turned to Samuel and added, "I can practically hear your stomach growling from over here. Why don't you go to the kitchen and see if the cook can give you something to eat."

Samuel's eyes narrowed with uncertainty, and he raised his right eyebrow. She fought the urge to grab him and hug him—it had been four years while his expressions were still the same.

"Go on," she said with a wink. "It's okay."

He jumped to his feet and darted out of the room. Moments later, his head popped back in the door. His mouth was full, and he had a half-eaten croissant in his right hand.

"The cook remembers me," he said, his mouth still full. "She wants to know if we want some pastries or watermelon with the coffee."

"Take whatever you want," she said.

Samuel disappeared again just as Melanie reappeared.

"Can someone tell me why that child is running wild around my house?" she asked.

Catherine offered her a tight-lipped smile, "What did Uncle say?"

"He'll be here soon," Melanie said.

The room fell silent, and Catherine began to pace again. She was relieved when she heard the crunch of car tires on gravel. Moments later, Lawson burst into the room, looking angry and confused.

"Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"We're waiting for someone else," Catherine said, checking her phone. "He'll be here any minute."

"Is it Sean?" Lawson asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes, "I already said no. It's a doctor, actually. A man named Carl Jordan. I think you know him, Uncle?"

Lawson's eyes widened slightly, and he tugged at the knot in his tie. He looked at Maria and then at Catherine and Clark, and the gears in his mind seemed to turn. The longer he looked, the harder he tugged at his tie. Finally, he sank onto a chair and showed his teeth in a pathetic imitation of a smile.

"Clark," he said. "It's been too long."

Clark's cheerful face looked stone-cold, "It's certainly been a while."

"I wish you would have called first," Lawson said. "I'm not much for surprises, you know."

"Oh, I don't think anything about this is a surprise for you, Lawson," Clark said.

A loud, brassy bell rang, and Catherine jumped. She heard a servant rush to the door and then voices in the hall. Moments later, Carl Jordan's tanned face appeared in the door. As he walked into the room, Lawson raised his shoulders as if to ask a question. Catherine glared at Carl, and he ignored Lawson and took a seat on the furthest chair possible.

"Great," Catherine said. "Now that we're all here let's begin. Mr. Foster, will you please get this started?"

Clark nodded and reached for the scratched and battered leather briefcase at his feet. He unclasped the top and reached inside, shuffling several papers before pulling a thick folder from the case. He adjusted the glasses on his nose, opened the folder, and raised the papers to his face.

"Today, Mrs. Catherine Blair called me here to preside over the distribution of Mr. James Aedile's possessions and legacy," he said.

"Distribution?" Melanie asked, her voice rising with each syllable.

"That's correct," Clark said.

"I don't understand," Melanie said. "This was all settled four years ago. There's nothing left to distribute—is there?"

"Good point," Catherine said. "I think Mr. Foster means redistribution."

"Redistribution?" Lawson asked. "What for? We're a family. We all got what we deserved."

Catherine looked pointedly at Maria and Samuel, "No, we didn't all get what we deserved."

Clark cleared his throat, "May I continue?"

Ignoring the lawyer, Catherine added, "Some of us got to occupy a beautiful home and spend money they didn't earn. And others have been struggling to get by. Does that seem fair?"

"Occupy?" Lawson asked. "What do you mean by that, Cathy?"

"I mean exactly what I said," she said. "This house isn't yours—it's mine. And Maria's and Samuel's."

"May I continue," Clark repeated. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "According to Article 10, Section C, pursuant to inheritance laws, in cases where the deceased has not left a will, the direct family shall be considered first in line for inheritance—spouses, children, and parents. In cases where no direct family members can be found, secondary family members such as grandparents and siblings may be considered."

"We settled this years ago," Melanie said. "Everything was legally transferred to Lawson. I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but it's all nonsense, and I refuse to listen to it."

Catherine reached into her purse and pulled out three neatly folded documents—the deeds she'd found in her father's safe deposit box. She placed them on the table one by one, though she knew no one could read the fine print.

Lawson stared at the papers, tugging nervously at his tie. "What are those?" he asked.

"They're the documents you've been looking for for the last four years," Catherine said, unable to resist the urge to gloat. "The documents that you probably forged to get my father's properties in your name. They're the deed to this house and his two other houses."

"I don't understand—" Lawson began.

Catherine interrupted him, "As for my father's other property, Mr. Foster?"

"It's all here," Clark said, shuffling through the papers. "Or rather, the documentation is all here. As for the actual property, I'm afraid it has decreased in value."

"What are you talking about?" Lawson asked.

"I'm talking about a 10% stake in the company," Catherine said. "Or didn't you realize that a huge percentage of shares were unaccounted for?"

"You have 10%?" Lawson asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Surprise," she said.

"Wait," Melanie shrieked. "Everyone, wait."

The room fell silent, and everyone turned to look at her. She took a deep breath and forced a wide smile. "We're still family," she said. "This is certainly a lot of information to process, and I'm grateful to Mr. Foster for bringing this to our attention, but surely this should be a family discussion."

"Oh, but there's no discussion," Catherine said. "The law makes it quite clear."

"What are you talking about?" Melanie asked. She narrowed her eyes and added, "Do you have any idea his disappointed your father would be to hear you talking like this?"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know for sure what my father would think," Catherine said. "Though I'm pretty sure he would have been just as shocked by the things you said about Maria and Samuel four years ago."

"So, what are you saying?" Melanie asked.

"It's not what I'm saying; it's what the law says," Catherine replied. "And the law says the houses are mine and Maria and Samuel's. As a rightful owner, I want you packed and out."

"I can't believe what I hear," Melanie wailed. "You're threatening to throw your own family out? I can't believe this—greed has gotten ahold of you and turned you against your own family."

"Isn't that what happened to you?" Catherine asked.