Vanessa called me Friday afternoon. The call had a different quality from our earlier conversations. She wasn’t performing calm or performing hurt; she was, I thought, actually calculating.
“You went to see Mara Chen,” she said.
“I did,” I said.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t know I needed to,” I said. “I’m a beneficiary. She confirmed that. I think I was within my rights to reach out.”
A pause. “I wasn’t trying to cut you out,” she said.
I waited.
“The copy I had was from an older version,” she said. “Dad gave it to me a long time ago. I didn’t realize there’d been an amendment.”
This was a different explanation from “it might just be formatting.” I noted the shift.
“The page that’s missing,” I said, “is the page with the amendment.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said. “I didn’t know he’d changed things.”
I sat with this. It was possible. It was also possible that it was the next version of the explanation — the one designed for a situation where the previous explanation no longer held.
“The formal process will sort it out,” I said.
“Hannah.” Her voice changed slightly. “We’re sisters. We can handle this between ourselves.”
“It is being handled appropriately,” I said. “That’s all that’s happening.”
“You’re making this into something it’s not.”
“I’m asking for the complete document,” I said. “I’ve been asking for the same thing since Tuesday evening. The formal process exists so that the complete document is what actually controls. That’s good for both of us.”