Peanut leaned back in his chair, eyeing the man before him with new respect.
“I know she wanted the house fixed up before it was sold. Do you intend to do what your mother asked?”
Hunt nodded. “I arrived in time to see her before she passed. I told her I’d keep my promise.”
“Well, that explains a part of what’s in her will. If your siblings have copies, then they already know it. Do you have a copy?”
“Yes, she sent me one,” Hunt said.
“Good. In it, she states that once her property is sold, you are to receive eight thousand dollars off the top, and then what’s left is to be divided five ways. So keep the receipts of what you spend as you remodel it, and you will receive that back after the sale, as well as the eight thousand, and then what’s left will be divided among the five of you.”
“They might not like that she did that,” Hunt said. “But they won’t fight me about it. Now that they’re all grown, I doubt they would want that coming out as public knowledge.”
Peanut nodded. “Yes, I understand. And as executor, you are to have access to her checking account, although there’s not much in it…probably just enough to bury her. I’ll get all of the paperwork started for that. Do you plan to live at the house while you’re working on it?”
“Yes,” Hunt said.
“Do you have a key?”
“There was one in the letter,” Hunt said.
“I would advise changing the locks first thing,” Peanut said. “If any of them have keys, and they stole before, they may be tempted to do it again before a sale can be held.”
“Already thought of that,” Hunt said, and then pulled a business card from his pocket. “This has all of my contact info on it. Just let me know when you hold a reading of the will, and anything else I need to do. I’ve never been an executor of an estate before, so I’m kind of flying blind on procedure.”
“I’ll be in touch, don’t worry,” Peanut said.
“Are we through here?” Hunt asked.
“Yes,” Peanut said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Hunt said. “Thank you for seeing me on a holiday.” He was up and out of the room in seconds.
Peanut followed him out and handed Hunt’s card to Betty.
“Hang on to this info. We’ll need to contact him again later,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Betty said. “He’s a nice-looking man, but he seems very stern.”
“War and betrayal will do that to a man. As soon as you finish what you’re doing, go on home, and thank you for coming in this morning,” Peanut said, then went back into his office.
* * *
Hunt rode across town, past the park, and then west down Peach Street to the little house at the end of the block. He’d seen this house a million times in his dreams, but it hadn’t looked sad and run-down like this.
A black pickup was parked beneath the carport, so he rolled up and parked beside it. He got the house key out of his pocket, but as he headed toward the back door, the hair stood up on the back of his neck. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but this house didn’t feel like it wanted him there. That was fair.
He didn’t want to be here, either, but a promise was a promise.
He unlocked the door and walked into the utility room just off the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. All of the furnishings were here. If it hadn’t been for the faint layer of dust all over everything, he could imagine his mom had just stepped out to run an errand and would be back soon.
There was a low spot in the middle of the kitchen floor—probably floor joist issues. The old hardwood flooring was scarred and worn, and the furniture was threadbare. The sight of this neglect made Hunt angry. How could his brothers and sisters let this happen? They were all right here in the same town together.
The year Hunt began high school, they’d remodeled the attic enough to call it a bedroom, and for the first time in his life, he’d had a room of his own. Curious to see what it looked like now, he went straight up the narrow stairwell at the end of the hall and opened the attic door. The single window was bare of curtains or shades, and the dust motes in the air stirred as he moved through the space now filled with boxes of old memories that should have been laid to rest years ago.
The bed he’d slept in was gone. The closet door was missing, the closet empty. Even the rod where his clothes used to hang was gone. It was as if they’d wiped away all memories of him. If only he’d been able to do the same.
He went back downstairs, glancing in his mother’s room and accepting it was the only one decent enough to sleep in, then began eyeing all of the things that needed repair.
He went back to the kitchen to check out the appliances. The burners on the gas stove lit, the oven came on. The dishwasher was clean, and the single glass in the top rack told him it had recently been in use and was likely in working condition—something he’d find out later.
The water pressure was good, and the washer and dryer appeared to be in working condition. The refrigerator was the newest appliance in the house, but nearly everything inside it needed to be thrown away. He didn’t know for sure how long his mother had been in the hospital, but the carton of milk was over a month out of date, and the single container of peach yogurt had long since expired.
The ice in the bin beneath the icemaker had all frozen together, which meant the electricity must have been off at one time long enough to melt it. Then when the power returned, it froze back. So he took the bin out and dumped the ice in the sink, then put it back beneath the icemaker to start making fresh ice, then dumped everything that was in the freezer and refrigerator into the garbage.
The central heat and air were still working, and they looked newer than he remembered, which was good. There was a big job ahead of him to do this right, but in the long run, it would make a huge difference in the sale of the house. However, this task was going to take tools as well as supplies, so he went out back to the toolshed to see what, if anything, was left.
The light bulb was burned out in the shed, so he left the door open as he went in to look around, and it was just as he feared. There was nothing left in it but a couple of old hammers, a hand saw, and an old sack of roofing nails. Seeing the nails reminded him he needed to check on the condition of the roof as well. He could rent tools and hire help. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was going to be a pain in the ass coping with his family while it happened.
He found a set of car keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen and guessed it was to the truck. If it ran, it would be handy to use while he was hauling stuff to the house to make repairs, so he went out to check. The insurance verification in the glove box was in Marjorie’s name. He turned the key to see if it would start, and the engine turned over immediately. So he locked the house and drove to the bed-and-breakfast to pack up his things and check out.