I was the only woman I knew who did what I did in my field. In fact, I was the only person in Hilltop. The idea came to me one day in college when the professor was discussing estates. He was debating in regards to the legality and rights the deceased had and the survivors and beneficiaries. It was one of those moments people talk about having, and I knew that was the part of law I wanted to assist in. I wanted to help people prepare their final wishes. I was giving back, and that was what I wanted to do so badly. Luckily, Frank was looking for what I was hoping for at Anderson Law Office.
Arriving at my appointment for today, I was excited to see Rhonda Bryant. She was a real card on the phone, and Frank had warned me beforehand that she was stubborn. Grammy also knew her from James Baptist and didn’t have a bad thing to say.
The long dirt road was familiar to me, having driven past it a million times in my life, yet never venturing down it. It had to be at least a mile back. I always admired the beauty of the house and the land in the distance.
After pulling up, I grabbed my briefcase, something I cherished and never went without for my house calls. Now, I said briefcase…it wasn’t like what you were thinking. I’m twenty-eight, not an old balding man wearing a wrinkled suit.
Not that there was anything wrong with that.
My pride and joy was real leather of medium color that was nicely broken in. It was hard from the wear but still soft. It was a gift my grandmother gave me when I finished college.
With the slam of my truck door closing, I was met with Mrs. Bryant standing on her porch with a smile, welcoming me.
“Well hello, Miss Breigh. So glad to see you today.”
I met her with a soft handshake. We had seen each other in passing at church but never talked on a personal level. And never regarding what we were discussing today.
“Come on in and we can go over this pain in the rear mess quickly, so I can get on with my day.”
I followed while smiling, completely understanding the gist of her feelings. This was unpleasant and disheartening and that was clear. No one ever said, “Wouldn't it be a great time to sit and prepare my final wishes?”
I thought not.
I observed the framed pictures of a young boy as I walked through her warm home. It was clearly Wyatt, smiling from ear to ear, and a couple of him, her, and a man making funny faces. A couple of them doing different things: riding horses, fishing, riding in a hot air balloon. Various framed portraits of horses decorated her white walls.
As I walked, I looked at her leather furniture and rustic wood décor, which seemed to have been handcrafted for each spot. Everything fit just so, and I had a feeling Rhonda had a part in that. She had many deer heads mounted on several spots over arches. I had always found that almost spooky, but in her home, it was exactly what I would have pictured.
“Holy moly. I would have hated to see the size of that monster if his head was that large.” I pointed at the mount that hung over the entry to the kitchen.
“My late husband hunted more than he slept. That one scared the bejesus out of me when he brought him home.”
“I can imagine.” I let out a laugh.
“Have a seat.” Mrs. Bryant pointed to the kitchen table adjacent to a beautiful, large window that overlooked just a minute part of her land. With the beautiful green grass and then flowers and bushes planted directly to what they required, it showed how she planned. She orchestrated how she wanted things done.
“Would you like coffee, tea, Diet Coke? Water?”
“Tea would be fantastic.” I began pulling her paperwork out of my folder and then opening my laptop.
“All right, let’s get this over with,” she said, sitting as if she was the professional.
“Okay, so everything looks like it has been prepared per Mr. Anderson. We just need to go over everything, initial a few things, some signatures, and I will notarize everything. I also understand that you have decided on just a couple things you want to make sure are added in an addendum.”
“Correct.”
I slid the laptop into her view so she could see everything I was going over. She reached for her glasses that she had laying on the antique table. I pointed with my pen and she followed along, nodding her head in agreement.
“The main thing is that I understand everything you own will go to your nephew, Wyatt Galloway.”
I pointed to his name in the proper sections.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And the trust from Virginia Galloway is put from your name into his, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Are there any exceptions or a backup if he were to predecease you?” This was another one of those doomed questions I hated asking.
“No, if he were to predecease me, which is highly unlikely since I have pancreatic cancer, I want everything I own to go to the Shelling Horse Rescue. There is no one else I would leave anything to. My nephew is the only one who knows what hard work is, has a moral compass that only God could create himself, and is good to the core.”
“I am sorry to hear about your diagnosis, ma’am.” All too often I had to make that statement.
“Don’t be. I’ve lived a good life…And I miss my husband fiercely. Only thing I will miss is seeing Wyatt. I was hoping to see him get married and start a
