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G erald Rivers looked up with a smile when Reese entered.

He could have been in his sixties or seventies.

A wreath of gray hair encircled his bald dome, and wire-rim readers perched on his nose.

The eyes behind them were kind. He was exactly what she would picture for an attorney in a venerable law firm, at once projecting experience and trustworthiness.

His suit coat hung on the back of a chair at a conference table lined with towers of manila folders while he sat behind a raised-panel partner’s desk at least a century old.

“Miss Decody.” He pushed back a wide oak chair and rounded the desk, one hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was so sorry to hear about your aunt. Such a senseless tragedy. I had just seen her earlier that day.”

She blinked away the sudden burn in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Please.” He waved her in the direction of the table. “Sit down. I’ll clear off more space. My clutter drives Ainsley mad.”

She assumed he was referring to the woman outside his office.

Reese sank into a chair, and Rivers rounded the table, catching the corner with his hip.

The stacks of folders teetered then did a slow avalanche.

His efforts to stop their descent were unsuccessful.

Dropping to his knees, he frantically scrambled to reorganize them.

When she would have risen to assist, he stopped her.

“Let me get it. I know I have Ben’s file here.

I got it out this morning, in preparation for your arrival. Give me just…”

He continued to rummage through the files and she waited, casting a gaze around the space.

Behind the desk was a trio of oversized windows adorned with transoms of leaded glass, showing an uninspired view of the neighboring building.

Next to the chair holding the man’s suit coat sat a paper shredder and an overflowing trash can, the contents of which occasionally drifted to the floor like half-hearted confetti.

“There.” The older man straightened, responding quickly when a folder threatened to slide from one of his new stacks.

He slid into the chair he’d vacated and shuffled through the files, plucking up a few, each several inches thick.

“Here we are. Your brother practically has a file cabinet dedicated to him.” His smile was harried.

“Did you bring the copies of your aunt’s death certificate, and your Letter of Appointment of Executor? ”

Reese took the sheets from her bag and slid them across the table to him.

He perused them, nodding slowly. “Well, that seems to be in order. At least it gives me permission to speak to you, in light of your aunt’s untimely death.

We can cover generalities only, I’m afraid.

You’ll receive full accounting and reports after your petition for Ben’s conservatorship goes through.

” He steepled his fingers, studying her over the top of them.

“You said on the phone you were pursuing that avenue.”

Something inside her twisted at the thought. But family ties came with obligations. Julia had probably experienced a similar reluctance, but she’d stepped up and taken responsibility. Reese could do no less. “Yes.”

“You would have been a child when your parents first came to me, seeking to draw up a trust for your brother. It was after your grandfather died. Your parents sought our firm’s advice on setting up a special needs revocable trust with some of the inherited assets.

Revocable means it left them with control of the funds, and responsibility for the tax implications that came with it.

Upon their death, guardianship of you shifted to your aunt, and the trust became irrevocable.

Your aunt was named conservator for Ben in the will, which was approved by the court.

I maintained administration of the trust, and Julia received reports and input on expenditures.

Her travels kept her away a great deal of the time, and our personal interactions were sporadic over the years. ”

The news was unsurprising. Sporadic described Julia’s involvement with Reese, as well.

Being saddled with a grief-stricken teen couldn’t have been easy with a demanding career.

After their first six months together, her aunt had gradually returned to her usual travel schedule, leaving Reese to manage on her own in the apartment.

It’d often been lonely, but Reese coped well enough until she left for college.

Experiencing that had made it easier for her to decide that she could manage Ben’s conservatorship. As far as she knew, Julia had never visited her brother. Her duties included only reading reports and approving trust expenditures.

Any facts Rivers divulged could probably also be found in the contents of her safe or from the documents she’d removed from the stuffed file cabinet in the back of her aunt’s coat closet.

But Reese had barely made a dent in them.

She’d placed her aunt’s Post-it notes from the files on one wall of Julia’s bedroom and added to them as she went through the piles of papers.

“What role does a conservator play when a person like you controls the trust?” Trent Camry, Julia’s attorney, explained that issue in great detail. But it was a stepping stone to some of the questions Reese didn’t have answers to.

“We have parallel roles that intersect when it comes to the trust beneficiary. My firm hires someone to manage the assets. Your aunt should have copies of the quarterly financial reports.”

She knew there were copies among the documents at Julia’s place. But she’d set them aside for the time being. “Ben’s care must be expensive. With rising costs, isn’t it in danger of running out at some point?”

“One of my responsibilities is making sure expenditures from the trust don’t endanger your brother’s eligibility for public assistance benefits, specifically Social Security Disability Insurance and Medicaid. They help pay for his care. The trust is also for his personal needs that aren’t covered.”

“Like fees accrued for administration of the trust.”

The words seemed to give him pause. But he nodded. “Yes. Trustee is a paid position, as is financial advisor. Conservators also can take a salary, although your aunt didn’t.”

Reese wasn’t surprised. She’d qualified for some social security benefits until she was eighteen, and Julia had placed the full monthly amount in savings for her. Of course, her grandfather had split his estate between his two daughters. And her aunt’s job had paid well.

Rivers rolled his shoulders, then glanced aside to make sure the motion hadn’t disturbed the stacks on the table.

“My most important duty is to ensure that every expense presented for payment goes for your brother’s personal care.

Governmental benefits pay for most, but not all medications and therapies that the doctors deem necessary.

The trust also covers his personal wants and needs, such as haircuts, dental care, clothing, ongoing education, etc. ”

Her brows rose. “Ongoing?” Ben was seven years her senior. Far beyond college years.

“Ben has attained a BA over the years. He regularly takes adult education courses in areas of interest.” A smile flickered.

“He asked for a big-screen smart television years ago, which is fairly standard in most residences. I granted his request. He’s also quite a gamer.

That necessitates a specialized computer with a large screen, gaming systems that require updating every few years and subscriptions I don’t quite understand.

I’m more careful about approving want-associated expenses.

The beneficiary is certainly entitled to things associated with his personal comfort, but not every request is approved. ”

He'd just revealed more about her brother’s hobbies than she’d ever known. Ben had always been a shadowy figure to her, one who warranted unmeasured caution and avoidance whenever possible.

“But the conservator also weighs in on which expenses are approved.”

“In typical cases the trustee holds that distinction, but your parents specified that requirement when designing the trust. Of course, they probably imagined they had decades to fill that role themselves. But their untimely deaths…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry. You’ve experienced a lot of loss in your life.

I recall some of the details that necessitated your brother’s hospitalization all those years ago.

Maybe being Ben’s conservator isn’t a position you’re comfortable with. ”

Her senses heightened. “If it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have submitted the petition.” Camry had explained that the role would be filled by an interim conservator appointed by the court from the Department of Human Services while Reese’s paperwork wended its way through the sluggish court system.

“Of course.” Rivers removed his readers and folded them carefully.

“In keeping with the parameters of the trust, I type up a monthly list of expenditures with my suggestions for approving or denying each and email it to Julia. Given Julia’s uncertain schedule, we had determined that she’d respond if she was able.

If I didn’t receive a reply, I was to go ahead on my own without input. ”

“But she’d been more personally involved in the weeks prior to her death?” At the lawyer’s sharpened gaze, she lifted her shoulders. “I found some notes she left.” A rainbow of Post-its, each with a question. Or a single word underscored with a series of question marks after it.

“I wouldn’t say that. Whenever she wasn’t traveling she was more personally involved.”

“But she came to see you twice since the first of the year.” She’d learned that from her aunt’s planner. “Was that unusual?”

“Yes. She wanted to visit your brother. Apparently, he had denied her request and she asked if there were provisions in the will that would give her the right to override his wishes, but there aren’t.

While I advised her that she could petition the court, it’s unlikely they would have granted it.

Beneficiaries have rights, too. I believe she’d planned to address her concern with your brother’s doctor. ”

“Did she follow through with that?”

“I really can’t say. You’d have to ask Dr. Sedgewick.

She tells me your brother has become quite close with a faith-based volunteer who visits regularly, which is good news.

Social contact has long been something he’s avoided.

” With a quick look at the antique clock on the wall, he added, “I’m due in court at four.

And given the city’s uncertain traffic, it’s best to leave soon.

If you have more questions, though, I’ll be glad to answer them. Just drop me an email.”

“I appreciate your time.” Reese reached for her bag and stood.

“The pleasure was mine.” There was a discreet knock on the door before it opened. The assistant—Ainsley—stuck her head in. “You’ll need to leave soon to make it to court, Gerald.”

“I know, I know.” He stood and turned to pull on his suit jacket. In the process, he jostled the table, and the precarious piles swayed again. “Oh, goodness.” Ainsley sprang across the room to help Rivers with what was surely a repeat of the earlier debacle.

Reese left the ensuing mess to them and strode out the door.

At the sight of her, Hayes stood and exited the opulent waiting area.

Reese almost followed him, then recalled his earlier admonition.

While she waited for his return, she dug in her bag for her phone.

Scrolled through the messages. There was a voicemail from Camry advising her that she needed to call him immediately.

Maybe the court had completed the glacial process to name her conservator.

Hayes returned, and Reese joined him, her head bent over her cell as she called the attorney. They reached the downstairs lobby before Camry finally came on the line sounding harried.

“Reese. I’m afraid there’s a problem.”

“With the conservatorship?”

“Yes. Your appointment is being contested.”

When she came to a stop, Hayes slid her a questioning glance. Placed a hand on her back to nudge her to move again. “I don’t understand. By whom? I’m Ben’s closest living relative. And why?”

“I haven’t seen the paperwork yet. Someone at the courthouse gave me a heads-up. This is a setback, but hopefully, it can be easily resolved with a hearing where each sides submit their concerns and any necessary evidence of their suitability.”

The bright sunshine was a shock to the senses when they stepped out of the building, but it couldn’t compare to the attorney’s bombshell.

“Who would have standing to object to my appointment?”

“Anyone with an interest in Ben’s personal welfare or assets.

The latter is moot, because the trust dictates that in the event of his passing the remainder of his estate goes to charity.

So my guess is someone close to the issue.

The trustee. Maybe a doctor. A friend or distant relative.

I’m not an expert in conservatorship law, but a colleague of mine in the firm is.

We can and will successfully fight this.

You’re the practical choice for conservator.

I’ll send you an email of things you should start putting together for our case. ”

After a few minutes of listening to the attorney’s directives, Reese disconnected the call numbly.

Frustration battled with outrage. And yes, if she were honest, maybe a fraction of relief.

It offered an out for a position she’d had to steel herself to take on.

But she’d already made the choice, and she’d stand by it.

Reese was dimly aware that Hayes was walking her by the parking lot without turning in. Her mind was too jumbled to object.

The trustee…a doctor…a friend…

It occurred to her that any of these possibilities might have one solid reason for objecting to her conservatorship. All would be familiar with her history with Ben.

They’d be aware that she was the central figure in the delusional thoughts that ultimately led to his institutionalization.