Page 24 of Key West Homecoming

“You don't have the original signed will yet. You'll need it, or a very reliable path to it. You don't have a Florida attorney of record, which is the single most important thing you need to get as soon as possible. You don't have any documentation from Arthur that we can use to prove intent, so the letter to Jake becomes very important. And you don't yet know whether there are other tenants or vacation rentals in that ten year history that would show a larger pattern.”

Emma took notes while Maeve talked. She had filled a page like this for tons of clients. She had never once done it while somebody was checking her work.

“What do I do first?”

“Two things. One you get me the letter. Two, you let me make some calls this afternoon.”

“What calls?”

“I know two attorneys in Florida. Neither of them is in Key West. John Bishop in Miami, and Alan Prieto in Marathon. They're both good. And they'll know exactly who in Key West does probate and real estate well. If we're lucky, we get you a Florida attorney of record by end of day tomorrow. If we're less lucky, day after. Either way, we file a motion of pending claim within seventy-two hours, which is what stops the closing.”

“Samantha offered to notify the buyer’s council that she'd had contact with the potential claimant. I asked her to hold off for a day.”

“Keep holding.” Maeve didn't look up. “A courtesy call from a broker slows a sale. A notice of pending claim stops one. I'd rather the first thing their counsel hears about you comes from a Florida attorney with a filing behind it.”

Maeve looked at her.

“Emma, I want to be honest with you about my role once you have that attorney. I'm not going to disappear on you. I'll stay in the background as a sounding board and I'll read anything you want a second set of eyes on. I'll tell you if I think your attorney is asking the right questions. Consider me a friend of the family with a law degree. That's the shape of it.”

“That's more than I’d hoped for.”

“It's exactly what my aunt is going to ask of me anyway.” A small, dry smile. “I might as well volunteer it.”

Emma laughed. It surprised both of them, and the table was easier afterward.

“Thank you so much.”

“One more thing.” Maeve closed the notebook and put her hand flat on the cover. “When you go see Jake for the letter. Don't tell him everything yet. Tell him you're working with somebody who needs to see it. Ask him to trust you for a day. If he does, that tells us something about him. If he doesn't, that tells us something else.”

“I'll ask him for a day.”

Connie appeared beside the table with two plates and set them down without asking. “Grouper sandwiches, slaw, chips. Don't argue with me. The two of you need to have something to eat.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Connie held up a finger. “Both of you have been sitting at my table for forty-five minutes without eating. I don't run a bar where people don't eat. Sandwiches are on me.”

“Aunt Connie,” Maeve said.

“Don’t Aunt Connie me. I fed your mother a grilled cheese at nine this morning that she barely touched, and I’m not going two for two.”

Connie was gone before either of them could answer.

Maeve smiled at Emma, “She’s not ever going to change.”

“I don’t want her to.”

They enjoyed their sandwiches and neither of them said a word about wills or Emma’s potential case.

“What is it you do in Chicago?” Maeve asked.

“Strategy. Ashcroft and Payne.”

“That’s not an answer, that’s a letterhead.”

“Companies pay us a lot of money to tell them something they already know in a way that lets them act on it.”

“That’s law,” Maeve said.

“It isn’t law.”