Dad leaned toward the phone and said, very calmly, “Rosalind, I’m having bacon at Delphine’s house. Should I be concerned that I apparently died last night?” The silence was extraordinary. Corbin stopped laughing. Rosalind finally whispered, “Dad?” He answered, “Yes. The same Dad whose locks you’re changing and whose truck you’re apparently selling.” Then he asked one more question: “Why did you tell your sister I was dead?”
The locksmith was stopped before changing the house locks. The person coming to inspect Dad’s truck was told directly by Dad that nothing was for sale. His attorney documented the calls and reviewed every account and authorization to make sure nobody had access Dad no longer wanted them to have. Dad also retrieved his estate documents from a secure location. Rosalind’s claim that she had “found the will” turned out to be another lie.
That afternoon, Dad called both of them with his attorney present. He did not scream. He simply told them they were no longer permitted to enter his house or handle his property without permission.
Then he looked at me and shook his head.
“They couldn’t even wait until I was dead.”
I squeezed his hand.
“No,” I said. “They just forgot to check.”
