Mark remained standing beside the door. He looked at June, then at Mr. Albright, and finally at the documents spread across the desk. Nobody offered him a chair.
"What company?" Mr. Albright repeated.
Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "Flint Ridge. They contacted me about the property a few months ago."
June's expression barely changed, but I saw her fingers curl against her palm.
"You told me you didn't know who made the offer."
"I said I didn't know who made the original offer. I never said I hadn't spoken to them."
"You said you didn't know anything about the road project."
"I said I didn't know the details."
"Those are very different statements, Mark."
He looked toward me as if expecting me to intervene. I didn't. For years, he had relied on the fact that June would rather swallow an insult than start an argument. That morning, she wasn't offering him the escape route he wanted.
Mr. Albright closed the folder.
"Sit down, Mark. If you have information about the proposed purchase, I want you to explain exactly what you know. We will not discuss assumptions as though they were established facts."
Mark lowered himself into the chair beside the window. He said Flint Ridge had contacted him through a man named Robert Keene, who claimed to represent the development company. The conversation had begun with general questions about the farm and whether Grandpa might consider selling part of the property. Mark had assumed the company was interested in agricultural land.
"Why contact you?" June asked.
"They knew I was his grandson."
"That doesn't explain why they thought you could speak for him."
Mark stared at his hands. "I might have told them I could arrange a conversation."
"Could you?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly that it sounded rehearsed.
Mr. Albright leaned forward. "Did you tell them you had authority to negotiate on your grandfather's behalf?"
Mark hesitated.
"I said I could help the family understand the offer."
"That was not my question."
"No," Mark said. "I didn't tell them I had legal authority."
June watched him carefully. "Did you tell them I would sign the authorization?"
"I never promised that."
"Did you tell them I could be persuaded?"
Mark looked away.
That was enough to make the room feel smaller.
He explained that the company had offered to pay for an appraisal and cover some preliminary legal costs if the family was willing to discuss a sale. He had not received money, he insisted, and he had not signed anything. He had believed that a sale could provide funds for the family and remove the burden of maintaining land that Grandpa could no longer manage.
June listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she asked, "Did Grandpa know you were speaking to them?"
Mark's shoulders slumped.
"Yes."
"When?"
"Last winter."
"What did he say?"
"He told me not to get involved."
June waited.
Mark swallowed. "He said the land wasn't mine to bargain with. He told me to stop answering their calls."
"Did you?"
"For a while."
The answer hung between us.
Mr. Albright asked whether Mark had received any documents from Flint Ridge. Mark said he had received a preliminary offer and an information packet. He had deleted several emails after Grandpa died because he believed the matter was finished.
"Did you keep the original offer?" Mr. Albright asked.
"I think so. It might be in my home office."
"I recommend that you preserve every related email, message, letter, and attachment. Do not delete anything else."
Mark nodded.
June leaned back in her chair. "Why didn't you tell me when Grandpa died?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered anymore."
"Or because you thought I would ask questions?"
He didn't answer.
Aunt Carol appeared in the doorway before Mr. Albright could continue. Dale followed her, and Tommy stood behind them looking uncomfortable. Carol's eyes went straight to the open folder.
"Mark, what are you doing?"
"Explaining what happened."
"To whom?"
"To Mr. Albright."
Carol's expression tightened. "You don't need to discuss private conversations with a lawyer who is representing June."
Mr. Albright corrected her calmly. "I am administering the estate and advising on the relevant trust documents. If you believe there is a conflict, you may consult your own attorney. That does not give you authority to interrupt this meeting."
Carol stepped into the room.
"This has become absurd. We are all trying to protect our father's legacy, and June is being encouraged to believe the worst about us."
June turned toward her aunt.
"I haven't decided what to believe. I'm asking questions."
"Because someone has convinced you that every conversation about the land was an attempt to cheat you."
"No. Grandpa's letters convinced me there was something I didn't know."
Carol glanced at Mark, who remained silent.
For the first time, I noticed that she looked less angry than frightened. Her eyes kept moving toward the folder, and she seemed to be measuring how much Mr. Albright had already revealed.
"Whatever my father wrote," she said, "he was not always rational near the end. He was tired, confused, and suspicious. He thought people were trying to take things from him."
June's face hardened.
"He knew exactly which documents he refused to sign."
"You weren't there for every conversation."
"No," June replied. "I was only there every Wednesday."
The words landed harder than a shout. Carol's mouth tightened, but she didn't respond.
Dale stepped forward.
"Can we at least find out what the company is offering? If the land is worth something, we should know."
Mr. Albright shook his head. "You are entitled to seek independent legal advice about your own interests. You are not entitled to negotiate property held in a trust without proper authority."
"But we're his family."
"That is a relationship, not a power of attorney."
Tommy shifted uneasily near the door. He had barely spoken since the will reading. Now he looked at June and said, "Did Grandpa leave you the whole farm?"
"No," June replied. "The farm and the north parcel are separate matters. I'm still learning what the trust means."
Tommy nodded, looking almost relieved that she hadn't claimed everything.
Carol, however, was not finished.
"If the property is worth so much, then why did my father never tell us? Why did he let us believe the farm was barely making enough to cover expenses?"
Mr. Albright folded his hands.
"Your father was entitled to manage his finances privately. He was also entitled to decline offers he considered unsuitable."
"He could have shared the opportunity."
"Perhaps. But that would have been his choice."
Carol's face flushed. "He was my father."
June looked at her for a long moment.
"And I was his granddaughter."
Nobody spoke.
The meeting ended without a resolution. Mr. Albright told everyone that he would review the trust documents and arrange a formal discussion once the property records had been verified. He also made it clear that no one should approach June with papers for signature in the meantime.
In the parking lot, Mark caught up with us.
"June, wait."
She stopped beside her truck but did not turn around.
"I know I should have told you about Flint Ridge."
"Yes."
"I didn't think it would become this complicated."
"Neither did I."
He hesitated. "I wasn't trying to hurt Grandpa."
June turned then.
"Did you ever ask him what he wanted?"
Mark's eyes lowered.
"I thought I knew."
"That's not the same thing."
She opened the truck door.
Mark reached for the handle, then withdrew his hand before touching it. "There's something else. The last Wednesday before he died, I went to the farm."
June stared at him.
"You did?"
He nodded. "After work. I didn't stay long."
"You told everyone you were out of town."
"I know."
"Why did you lie?"
Mark looked past her toward the road. "Because I went to talk about the offer."
June's expression changed, but she didn't interrupt.
"I thought I could convince him to at least hear them out. He got angry. He told me the offer wasn't the point anymore. He said someone had been asking questions about the trust, and he didn't know whom he could believe."
June gripped the top of the truck door.
"What did he say about me?"
Mark swallowed.
"He asked whether you'd been contacted by anyone from Flint Ridge. I told him no. Then he asked me to promise I wouldn't let anyone use your name."
"Did you promise?"
"Yes."
"And you still kept talking to them."
Mark closed his eyes briefly.
"I thought I could keep things under control."
June climbed into the truck without answering. I followed, leaving Mark alone in the parking lot.
As we pulled away, she stared straight ahead.
"Grandpa asked him to protect me," she said. "And he turned around and kept negotiating."
"Maybe he thought he was helping."
"Maybe."
She sounded more disappointed than angry, which somehow made it worse.
At the next intersection, she stopped for a red light. Her phone rang. The caller's number was unfamiliar, but the name that appeared beneath it was Flint Ridge Development.
June looked at me.
Then she answered.
A man's polished voice came through the speaker.
"Ms. Parker? My name is Robert Keene. I've been trying to reach your family about the north parcel. I understand you may now be the person handling the matter."
June kept her eyes on the traffic light.
"Who told you that?"
There was a brief pause.
"Your aunt, Carol Bennett."
June's hand tightened around the phone.
"And what exactly did she tell you?"
Keene cleared his throat.
"She said you were prepared to discuss the authorization."
June looked at me, and I saw the question in her eyes.
The authorization with her name on it had never been signed. Yet somebody had already told the developer that she was ready to proceed.
"Mr. Keene," June said, "I have not authorized anyone to negotiate a sale on my behalf."
His voice became more cautious.
"Then I think we need to clarify what has happened."
"Yes," she replied. "I think we do."
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The Developer’s Phone Call Revealed a Deadline, and June Learned Why Grandpa Had Kept the Most Important Letter Away From the Farm
Six Relatives Followed June Down a Dusty Kansas Road After the Lawyer Handed Her Something Grandpa Had Hidden
Part 7 of 20
