She confirmed that the will was valid and that the estate was to be divided equally between Daniel and me. She confirmed that there was no document in the estate file that established any rental agreement between my mother and me. She confirmed that Daniel’s calculation of $129,600 represented a demand, not an established debt.
“He can make claims against the estate,” she said. “But he’d need to establish that there was an agreement. ‘She lived there’ isn’t the same as ‘she owed rent.'”
The thing I hadn’t thought through: she reminded me that the estate process had a timeline and that Daniel and I both had obligations within it. There were things that needed to be jointly agreed upon. The house couldn’t be sold without both our signatures. If Daniel wanted to dispute or complicate the process, he had some leverage.
“Not because he’s right,” Patricia said, carefully. “But because contested estates are slow and expensive for everyone.”
I understood the message. I didn’t like it.
He called on Sunday.
“I didn’t hear from you by Friday,” he said. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded like a man who was used to getting to be reasonable.
“I wasn’t going to respond in two days to a demand for a hundred and twenty-nine thousand dollars.”
A pause. “I understand this is hard timing.”
“It’s not hard timing, Daniel. It’s an incorrect claim.”
“Claire.” He said my name like it was a conclusion. “You didn’t pay rent. That’s a fact. You lived there for twelve years in a house that is now part of an estate we share equally, and you didn’t pay rent. I’m not making up the concept of fairness.”