If Mavis believed I had been left financially exposed, Harlan suspected she would move quickly.
I hated reading the next sentence.
I hope I am wrong about my sister. But if she appears with papers and tells you she only wants to help, please don’t argue with her. Let her show you exactly what she wants. Then call Keaton.
I lowered the letter.
“This is insane.”
Mr. Keaton folded his hands.
“I wish I could tell you Harlan was being overly cautious.”
“Was he?”
“We’ll know soon.”
I drove myself home.
The next morning, at nine-thirty, Mavis rang my doorbell.
She was carrying a folder.
My heart sank.
“Noreen,” she said gently, “I barely slept last night thinking about you.”
“That makes two of us.”
She followed me into the kitchen.
“I spoke to Neil. We both agree you shouldn’t have to handle all these financial things alone.”
I poured coffee without offering her any.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
She opened the folder.
“Just a temporary power of attorney. It would allow me to speak with banks and deal with paperwork for you.”
There it was.
Exactly as Harlan had predicted.
I sat down.
“Mavis, I’m tired. Let me look at it.”
“Of course.”
She pushed the papers toward me.
I put on my glasses and read slowly.
Then I noticed something.
The notary section on one page was already dated.
Nine days earlier.
At that time, Harlan had still been alive, and I had spent nearly every hour beside him.
I had never met the notary whose name appeared there.
My pulse began pounding.
Then I saw another page.
A summary of one of my brokerage accounts.
Balance: $517,804.
I had never told Mavis about that account.
Almost nobody knew it existed.
Except Harlan.