Chapter 6 - The Conditions
Tears instantly prickled the back of my eyes. A lump formed in my throat so large I could barely swallow.
"She... she did that on purpose?" I whispered.
"Entirely on purpose," Mr. Evans confirmed. "And that brings us to the specific terms of the trust Mrs. Bennett established."
He pulled a crisp, formal legal document from the folder and slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose.
"Your grandmother issued five checks yesterday, each made out for the amount of fifteen thousand dollars. However, the trust agreement she executed contains a very strict, legally binding clause."
Mr. Evans read directly from the document:
"Clause 4B: Conditional Disbursement and Forfeiture. Any check issued from this instrument must be presented in person by the named beneficiary at a First Heritage branch within forty-eight hours of issuance. If a check is not presented within this timeframe, OR if a check is intentionally destroyed, defaced, or rejected by the beneficiary, that beneficiary's claim to their share is permanently and irrevocably voided."
My mind raced back to the backyard the evening before.
I saw Tyler grabbing his check with wet hands, sneering, and ripping it right down the middle before tossing it into the grass.
I saw Denise sneering, dropping her check onto a table covered in barbecue grease and pool water.
I saw Kayla leaving hers behind like a used napkin.
"Tyler tore his check in half," I blurted out. "He ripped it up right in front of her."
Mr. Evans didn't look surprised. In fact, a faint, sad smile touched his lips. "Then your stepbrother's claim is legally nullified as of the moment he did so. And unless your stepmother or stepsister bring their intact checks to my desk before 5:00 PM tomorrow, their claims will also expire."
"What happens to the money?" I asked. "Does it go back to Grandma?"
Mr. Evans' smile widened. He reached back into his desk drawer and pulled out a smaller, square cream-colored envelope. It was sealed with red wax. On the front, in that same beautiful cursive script, was my name: Nora.
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"Your grandmother left this letter with me," Mr. Evans said, passing it across the polished mahogany desk. "She instructed me to give it to whichever beneficiary actually walked through that door with their check in hand."
My hands were shaking so violently I almost couldn't break the wax seal. I pulled out the folded stationery. The scent of Grandma's lavender perfume drifted up from the paper.
