He had not counted on Dorothy Haynes or on Pastor Williams at Grace Methodist, who had quietly connected me with the church’s legal advocacy volunteers, two of whom had specific experience with elder financial exploitation cases and had already reviewed my situation informally and expressed their confidence in James Whitmore’s strategy.
or on Linda Cho from the Columbus Senior Resource Center, who had over the past week helped me document Derek’s 10 years of unpaid residence in a form that could be submitted as a counter claim should he follow through on his threat to contest the estate or on the 47 members of the Carver Street Neighborhood Association, many of whom had known me since before Derek was born, and several of whom had offered formal written statements of character.
that James said could be useful in demonstrating the nature of my household and my consistent habits over time. I had spent my three days at Dorothy’s quietly and purposefully. I had not been resting simply. I had been building. I’m going to go finish my soup. I told Derek, ‘Have a good evening.’ I hung up.
I stood at the kitchen counter for a moment. Outside the street was beginning to go dark in the early winter evening. The street lights coming on one by one. The neighborhood settling into its quiet rhythms. A car passed. Someone’s dog barked twice and stopped. I picked up my knife and went back to the celery.
Across town, I imagined Derek and Cynthia in whatever space they were currently occupying. I had heard from Dorothy that they were staying with Cynthia’s sister since I changed the locks, which had apparently not been received well by Cynthia’s sister. And I imagined them deciding what to do next. They would observe. They would wait.
They would try to find a weakness. They would not find one, but they would try. And meanwhile, I had soup to make and friends to call and a life to continue living, which was, when I thought about it, the most powerful thing I possessed. The broth came to a simmer. I turned down the heat and let it go slowly, the way good things require.