Tangible and Intangible

Nancy sat leaning forward, glaring at the computer screen, her cheaters slipping down her nose. The computer was her late husband’s, and she hated that machine with every ounce of her being. Modern times being what they are, it was a necessity. There was no way in Hell that she was going to waste her money on a goddamn lawyer. 

She pecked out “go to google search please” into the Bing search bar. She clicked on the first search result, which brought her to the Google. Her son, Joshua, the one who actually finished college, told her that Google was the best thing to happen to the internet. Well, Nancy thought, let’s see what the Google has to say about this.

Nancy asked Google, “how do I to write a will for free please.” 

Google showed her a list of suggested sites. The first, titled How to Write a Last Will and Testament - Free Complete Printable Workbook and Step by Step Guide, was exactly what she needed. Maybe Joshua was right about something for a change. She selected the result and a new page opened on the screen.

Nancy sat back for a moment and adjusted her reading glasses. She took a deep breath, disgusted about what she had to do. She had never written a will before because wills are morbid and should be unnecessary. James had been of the same mindset, so he never wrote one. When he died, everything naturally went to her as his spouse. Some people took issue with this and contested the estate. Such an embarrassment, being dragged through the court system like a felon. The suit failed, of course. No judge worth his salt would give any money to offspring from a first marriage who never even saw their father. 

It was early afternoon, and the sun was starting to peek into the home office. Nancy stood up and closed the white blinds. She returned to the black swivel chair, and she entered in all of the information the site requested. Bank accounts, real estate, retirement money. She had a stack of paper records beside her on the desk, lists of account numbers and tax information. They all still listed James as the joint owner or cosigner. But he wasn’t there to help her deal with the vultures.

Nancy slipped her feet out of her house slippers. The home office got too much afternoon sun, and it was getting hot even with the blinds closed. She had warned James about that when he picked this room as his office, but he didn’t listen. He installed the seafoam green carpet their daughter, Nicole, helped pick. He whitewashed the old wood paneling. Nice and bright, he said. The ell-shaped desk was delivered in pieces, and James assembled it in place. 

Distribution of assets. Yes, finally, the important part of the will. Nancy had spent a lot of time in thought and prayer, considering her options. Priority number one, she needed to make sure that none of the children of that woman got a cent. There were three of them: James Jr., Chase, and Patrice. Or was it Patricia? Nancy could never remember. They tried once to get their grubby paws on the money, they would try again. 

Priority number two, she needed to make sure that neither of her children got anything. This made Nancy sick to her stomach, not leaving any of her worldly goods to her own blood. But she was left with no choice. What was a mother supposed to do when her children chose such horrible paths?

She filled in the beneficiary information with a smirk, then printed the will. Now she needed a witness and a notary. A notary would set her back about $10. What did the money even go toward? Ink for their little stamp can’t cost that much.

-----

Josh leaned against the desk, watching the locksmith drill the safe so they could open it. His father had installed the safe in the office’s whitewashed paneled wall, hiding it behind a paint-by-number of a pastoral scene. Josh had a vague memory of his mother painting the rolling farmland while she was pregnant with Nicole. The little plastic pots of paint were very tempting to a five year old. His mother had slapped his hand when he tried to touch them.

His wife, Marie, came in to check on the progress. “Almost done,” he told her over the sound of the drill.

“Any bets on what’s inside?” Marie asked.

“Just papers. Hopefully the deed to the house and the car title.”

“The blood of her enemies,” Marie suggested. 

“She would have needed a bigger safe for that,” Josh said with a laugh, “even if she used very tiny vials.”

The drill made a whining sound, and the locksmith reversed the drill until the bit was free. He carefully turned the handle and the door swung open. Just paperwork; Josh had won the bet. 

“Tada!” the locksmith said. He began to clean up his tools and the drop-cloth used to collect the metal filings from the safe. Josh paid the locksmith in cash and walked him to the door. Marie returned to the kitchen, where she was cleaning out the expired food from the refrigerator. His mother would have liked that the woman who stole him away was stuck cleaning out her moldy leftovers and rotten carrots. 

Josh pulled the stack of papers out, placing the stack on the desk. He started to examine each document. Tax returns, a death certificate for his father, the sales receipt and warranty for a couch purchased in the 1980s. 

“This jam expired eleven years ago,” Marie said from the office doorway. She held up a glass jar with a dark sludge inside. “It was peach.”

“Nicole’s favorite.”

“Should I save it for her? She might be hungry after her flight from Japan.”

“No. I’m surprised Mom saved it. She hated peaches and things that reminded her of Nicole.” Nicole’s major sins, according to their mother, were dropping out of college and moving to a nation of “inscrutables.” 

“The jar was stuck far in the back. She probably forgot it was there. Find anything interesting?” Marie asked as Josh continued to look through the stack. 

Josh picked up an envelope. It had the word “WILL” written on the outside. He showed the envelope to Marie.

“I thought Nancy didn’t believe in wills?”

“She didn’t,” he said, ripping open the top of the envelope. Josh had been sure there would be no will. He had braced himself for a long, expensive probate case, and had contacted a lawyer the day he heard the news of his mother’s passing.

“Is it real?” Marie asked when Josh unfolded the papers.

“Looks like it,” he replied. “Her friend, Eunice, witnessed it. And there is a notary mark. But I’ll have to check with the lawyer.”

Marie came and stood next to him, standing on tiptoes so she could read the document. “You’re the executor.”

“How nice of her to think of me.” 

Josh scanned the rest of the document. Much of it was boilerplate legal jargon. Then there was the beneficiary information.

“Google?” Josh said, incredulous. 

“Google what?”

Josh pointed to the paragraph that clearly gave all of his Mother’s property, tangible and intangible, to Google LLC. 

“Can she do that?” Marie asked.

“No idea.”

Marie whistled. “Oh boy, what a mess.”