Chapter 3
The interior of Eleanor’s car smelled faintly of old leather and peppermint, a familiar sanctuary that offered a momentary pause from the chaos unfolding outside. Sitting behind the steering wheel, she started the engine, letting the air conditioning hum to life while she took a slow, deep, grounding breath. Her hands rested steadily at ten and two o'clock. She was an eighty-year-old woman, yes, but she was far from helpless. Before Arthur’s passing, she had managed the financial portfolios of his entire architectural firm for four decades. She understood contracts, deeds, and liabilities far better than any reckless twenty-something high on weekend adrenaline.
Searching her contacts list, she dialed Marcus Vance, her late husband’s sharpest corporate attorney and a man who had known her since her wedding day. The phone picked up on the second ring, Marcus’s rich, baritone voice cutting through the silence.
“Eleanor? It’s a bit late in the day for business, my friend. Everything alright?” Marcus asked, his tone shifting instantly from casual to concerned when he caught the sharp edge of her silence.
“Marcus, I need you to pull up the deed to the Pacific Coast property immediately,” Eleanor commanded, her voice calm, measured, and entirely devoid of emotion.
“The beach house? Of course. It’s in your sole name, as we structured after Arthur’s passing. Why? Has something happened?”
“My nephew Thomas has taken it upon himself to turn my primary retirement asset into an unauthorized weekend party house for complete strangers,” Eleanor explained, her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror where a group of rowdy guests were stumbling out toward the patio. “One of his friends just screamed at me, told me I was an old parasite, and ordered me off the property.”
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the phone line. “Good lord, Eleanor. Do you want me to call the local sheriff? We can have the entire lot of them removed for trespassing and property damage within the hour.”
“No,” Eleanor said firmly, a small, knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. “Not yet. I don’t just want them removed, Marcus. I want to know every single legal ramification of revoking Thomas’s authorized visitor status immediately, and I want to begin drafting formal eviction notices for anyone residing under my roof without my written consent. Furthermore, I want to review the trust terms concerning his college fund dispersal next month.”
May you like
Marcus chuckled softly on the other end, a sound of profound respect. “Consider it done, Eleanor. I’ll have my paralegal draft the paperwork tonight. Shall I meet you at your town office tomorrow morning at nine?”
“Nine sharp,” Eleanor replied. “And Marcus? Make sure the paperwork is airtight. I am done cleaning up after children.”
