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“That’s right.”
“It doesn’t make sense that Cena would sign a ten-year contract when she was ninety-eight years old.”
“May I take a look?” Beau asked.
I handed it to him.
“Who is James Rooker?” he asked.
“He was the livestock manager at the Lilacs. Where do you see the name?” asked Mr. Creola.
Beau set the contract on the desk. “Here,” he said, pointing. I leaned forward and saw the man had signed the document on Cena’s behalf.
“My apologies. With the vast extent of the estate, I missed that in my review. You should also know our firm did not handle the negotiation between Mrs. Covert and Schultz Wineries.”
“Can I see that again, please?” I asked.
Beau plucked the paper from the desk and handed it back to me.
“It doesn’t list a firm, but the signature was notarized.” I read through it a second time. There was no mention of Cena naming anyone, let alone James Rooker, as having authority to negotiate or sign on her behalf.
“Did Mrs. Covert have a power of attorney in place, granting James Rooker the authority to do this?” Beau asked.
“To my knowledge, she did not.”
“Then how can it be valid?” I asked.
“There’s one other thing I want to take a look at,” Beau said, and I handed him the contract. “Good Lord,” he muttered. “What Schultz is being paid is astronomical.” He stared at the attorney. “How long have you represented Mrs. Covert?”
“She engaged the firm eighteen months ago when she revised the trust.”
“Who did prior?” Beau asked.
“Gerald Sokolowski. He was independent, meaning not affiliated with a firm.”
“Do you have his contact information?” I asked.
“Mr. Sokolowski passed away six months before Mrs. Covert came to us.”
“Let me piece this together. The contract between Cena Covert of Lilac Lane Winery and Schultz Wineries was drafted two years ago, signed by someone it appears did not have the authority to do so. On top of that, the attorney who most likely drafted it, passed away weeks later?”
“As it appears, sir,” Mr. Creola responded.
“Are all of Mrs. Covert’s assets included in the trust?” he asked.
“To the best of my knowledge. As it relates to this conversation, I can assure you Lilac Lane Winery most definitely is.”
“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Beau asked.
The attorney agreed and left us alone in his office.
“The reason I asked him to step out is because, as I predicted, this is about to turn ugly, my love.”
“I agree.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I couldn’t now, not here. “Let’s talk once we leave.”
