“He was going to have me sign it in this bed,” I said.
“He was going to have you sign it hoping you were too sedated to read,” Janet said gently.
“There’s more,” Janet said.
She slid a final page out of the portfolio.
“The trustee’s accountings. Itemized. Public record, nobody looks.”
My eyes moved down the column.
Rolex Datejust, March 1996, five thousand four hundred dollars. “Trustee’s expense.”
Cartier bracelet, December 2019, seven thousand six hundred. “Preservation of estate property.”
Hermès, March of this year, eleven thousand eight hundred. “Trustee education materials.”
I looked up.
“My mother’s Birkin,” I said. “My father’s watch.”
“Your family bought a handbag out of your son’s inheritance,” Janet said, “and called it continuing education.”
“Can we stop it?” Anders asked.
“We can try,” Janet said. “But I need three things. Proof that Michelle did not sign that card. Someone who will say who did. And the person who stamped it.”
