Mark did not answer June's second message. By lunchtime, he had stopped responding altogether. June tried calling once, then put her phone away and told me she would not chase him.
"If he wants to explain, he knows where to find me."
She sounded firm, but the silence bothered her. Mark had admitted that he spoke with Flint Ridge, and the email now showed that he had received the preliminary map. He might have misunderstood what it meant. He might have believed Carol had everything under control. But Grandpa had asked him to stop negotiating, and Mark had continued long enough for the family to become entangled in a problem nobody could easily untangle.
Mr. Albright advised June to preserve every message and avoid making accusations she couldn't support. He also told her that the trust did not require her to make an immediate decision about the property. If she wanted time to understand the obligations, she could take it.
June thanked him, then asked whether she could visit the farm without worrying that someone would arrive with another document for her to sign.
"You can visit your grandfather's house whenever you choose," he replied. "If anyone approaches you with paperwork, you can decline to discuss it and refer them to me."
That afternoon, June drove to Solomon alone. She wanted to inspect the house and collect the remaining records without an audience. I offered to go with her, but she shook her head.
"I need one quiet hour where nobody is asking me what I'm going to do with the land."
She called me when she arrived. For nearly an hour, we spoke about ordinary things: a leaking faucet at her apartment, a grocery bill that had doubled since last winter, and a neighbor who had started leaving tomatoes on her porch. Then she went quiet.
"There's something in Grandpa's desk I never looked at," she said.
"What is it?"
"A little wooden box. I always thought it held fishing hooks."
She had found it behind a stack of seed catalogs. The box was shallow, with a sliding lid and a small brass latch. Inside were fishing hooks, several old coins, and a folded photograph of Grandpa with Mark and Dale at the lake. Beneath the photograph lay a key and a note.
June read the note to me over the phone.
"Mark, if you want to help me, come on Wednesday and listen before you offer advice. The land is not a problem to be solved by the fastest signature."
The note was dated six months before Grandpa died.
June turned it over. There was nothing else written on the back.
"He asked Mark to come on a Wednesday," she said. "Mark never told us about this."
"Maybe he did visit."
"He said his last visit was the week before Grandpa went to the hospital. But this note suggests Grandpa had been asking him to come earlier."
She placed the note beside the notebook and continued searching. In the bottom of the desk drawer, she found a small envelope containing two receipts from the same week. One was for fuel, the other for a meal at a diner in Salina. The date matched the day Mark had received the email from Flint Ridge.
June sent me a photograph of the receipts.
"Could he have met Keene that day?" I asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe he was just in Salina for work. I need to ask him."
She called Mark again. This time, he answered.
"June, I'm busy."
"So am I. I found Grandpa's note asking you to come on a Wednesday. Did you visit him that week?"
Silence.
"Mark?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because it wasn't important."
"Then why did you lie about it?"
He exhaled sharply. "I didn't lie. I just didn't mention every visit."
"You told me you hadn't been to the farm until the week before Grandpa went to the hospital."
"That's what I remembered."
June's voice remained level.
"You remembered the meeting about the offer, but not the earlier visit when Grandpa asked you to listen?"
Mark said nothing.
"Did you meet Robert Keene in Salina that day?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
June closed her eyes.
"What did you discuss?"
"He wanted to know whether the family would consider selling. I told him I couldn't make that decision. He asked whether Grandpa was willing to hear an offer, and I said I'd ask."
"Did you ask Grandpa?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said no."
June waited for him to continue.
"He told me the land wasn't ready to be sold. He said the map was wrong, and he wanted a survey before anybody talked about price. I thought he was being difficult. I told Keene the family might still be interested."
"Did you send him the map?"
"No. Carol did."
"But you received it."
"Yes."
June looked down at the photograph of the receipts.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I knew how it would sound. I didn't want you thinking I'd gone behind Grandpa's back."
"You did go behind his back."
"I was trying to find out what the land was worth."
"Without telling him the truth about what you were doing?"
Mark's voice rose. "You weren't the one dealing with it, June. You weren't trying to figure out how to keep the farm going. You were bringing meatloaf and changing his sheets. You didn't have to deal with the bills, the taxes, the machinery, or the fact that the place was becoming too much for him."
June went very still.
I could hear Mark breathing through the phone.
When she spoke, her voice was quieter.
"You're right that I didn't deal with every bill. I didn't know about the trust or the road project. But I did know when Grandpa was afraid. I knew when he couldn't sleep. I knew when he was pretending his knee didn't hurt because he didn't want to ask for help."
Mark said nothing.
"I wasn't trying to manage the farm," she continued. "I was trying to make sure he didn't have to sit alone in a house he couldn't manage by himself. You could have asked me what was happening. You could have asked him. Instead, you went to a developer and tried to make a decision before he had finished making his own."
"That's not fair."
"Maybe not. But it's what happened."
She ended the call.
When June told me about it later, she said she hadn't felt triumphant. She had felt tired, and sad, and a little ashamed that part of her still wanted Mark to apologize so she could tell him it was all right.
"I don't want to keep score," she said. "But I don't want to pretend the score doesn't exist."
The following morning, Mark arrived at Mr. Albright's office. He had brought a folder of emails and several printed messages from Keene. He looked as though he had slept poorly, and he did not attempt to make excuses when June asked him about the meeting in Salina.
Mark admitted that he had hoped to receive a referral fee if the sale proceeded. Keene had mentioned that Flint Ridge sometimes compensated people who introduced landowners to potential buyers. Mark said he had never received money, and he had not signed a formal agreement. He had nevertheless continued the conversation after Grandpa told him to stop.
"I thought if I could get a real offer, Dad would listen," he said.
June looked at him.
"And if he didn't?"
Mark lowered his eyes. "I didn't think that far."
Mr. Albright asked whether Mark had discussed the proposed fee with Carol. Mark said he had mentioned it once, but he didn't know whether she had received any money or expected to receive any.
"Did you know Prairie Horizon had ordered the preliminary map?" Mr. Albright asked.
"Not when I first spoke with Keene. I learned about it when Carol forwarded the email. I saw the attachment, but I didn't understand the boundary issue until Grandpa explained it."
"When did he explain it?"
"The week before he went to the hospital."
June leaned forward.
"What did he say?"
Mark rubbed his face.
"He said the map showed a line that didn't match the old deed. He told me someone had moved the marker and that he was getting it checked. He asked me not to discuss the property with anyone until the survey was complete."
"And you agreed?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you keep talking to Keene?"
Mark's eyes filled with frustration.
"Because Keene kept calling, and I thought I could still get a better offer. I told myself I was helping the family. I didn't want to admit I'd already crossed a line."
The honesty of that answer did not erase what he had done. It did, however, explain why he had been so reluctant to meet with June. He had not necessarily planned a scheme to take the property. He had wanted a financial reward, had ignored Grandpa's refusal, and had continued trying to manage a situation he had no authority to control.
Mr. Albright asked him to provide the original messages and preserve any remaining correspondence. Mark agreed. He also agreed to put in writing that he had no authority to negotiate on behalf of the trust or June.
Before leaving, he turned toward June.
"I am sorry."
She looked at him for several seconds.
"For what?"
"For not listening to Grandpa. For not telling you the truth. For making you feel as though you had to defend yourself against your own family."
June swallowed.
"I don't know what to do with your apology yet."
"I understand."
He left without asking her to forgive him.
That evening, June and I sat at her kitchen table. She had spread the documents across the surface in chronological order: the first transfer proposal, the preliminary survey, the email from Carol, the messages between Mark and Keene, and Grandpa's notes.
For the first time, the sequence was clear enough to follow. Carol's company had commissioned a preliminary map. Mark had spoken with the developer and hoped for a referral fee. Both had continued discussing the property after Grandpa refused to sell. The map's limitations had not been made clear in every later communication. The authorization bearing June's name had been drafted before she knew anything about it.
But one question remained unanswered.
Who had written the note saying, Get June to sign if Henry cannot?
The handwriting did not match Grandpa's. It did not look like Mark's either. Mr. Albright had asked the developer to preserve the original document, but the company had not yet located it.
June studied the note under the kitchen light.
"If it was Carol, why would she need someone else to write it?"
"Maybe someone suggested the wording."
"Or maybe she didn't write it at all."
She placed the note in a separate sleeve.
"I won't accuse her until we know."
Her restraint impressed me more than any angry speech could have. She had every reason to feel betrayed, but she was determined not to become careless with other people's reputations just because they had been careless with hers.
Before going to bed, she called Mr. Albright and asked him to arrange one final meeting with Carol, Mark, and the bank officer. She wanted the documents reviewed together, with no one allowed to interrupt or redirect the conversation.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes. I want to hear what everyone knows. After that, I want to decide what happens to the property."
Mr. Albright agreed.
June placed Grandpa's notebook in the drawer beside her bed. The letter he had left her lay on top of it, folded along its original creases.
She read his final sentence one more time.
If you keep it, make sure you keep it for a reason that belongs to you.
Then she turned off the light.
For the first time in days, she slept without leaving her phone beside the pillow.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: Carol’s Explanation Fell Apart When Ellen Produced the Original Instructions, but the Truth Was More Complicated Than June Expected
Six Relatives Followed June Down a Dusty Kansas Road After the Lawyer Handed Her Something Grandpa Had Hidden
Part 14 of 20
