“Didn’t you wonder why an Amish woman would have an attorney?”
Lainey blinked at the question. “Well, I guess I didn’t consider it.” Why would she? She hadn’t known until he’d called her with the news, and she’d been too shocked to think of anything except getting here.
“It’s unusual, to put it mildly.” The lines of his face relaxed a little. “Unlike most of the Amish in this area, your great-uncle was actually fairly wealthy, at least in terms of the property he owned. I think it started almost by accident, but Isaac seemed to have a gift for knowing when to buy. As a result, when he became sick, he consulted me, wanting to be sure Rebecca had someone to advise her.”
“He didn’t trust the family to do so?” Picturing Zeb’s narrow, avaricious face, she didn’t think she’d trust him either.
“Let’s just say that Isaac didn’t want Rebecca to have to handle any family disagreements. He felt that having an outsider assisting her would prevent that.”
“Okay. But I still don’t see what there is in that to make his brother so upset. If, as you say, my aunt’s money is invested in land, there surely isn’t anything I have to do about it while she’s ill. When she gets better...” She stopped, not wanting to think about the alternative.
“Yes.” Jake seemed to be answering what she didn’t say, and his already deep voice deepened still more in sympathy. “We don’t know yet what will happen to Rebecca, and whether she’ll ever be able to take over managing the property again. In the meantime I can certainly collect rents and pay taxes, but there’s more to it than that.”
Lainey’s head was beginning to ache as Jake seemed intent on adding even more to the number of balls she was juggling. “You’d better tell me the worst of it. How else am I going to know what to do?”
His firm lips curved slightly. “There’s no ‘worst,’ as you say. It’s just that Rebecca owns several farms among other things—farms that Zeb and three of his sons operate.”
“They’re doing it for her?”
“No, they’re doing it for themselves. They pay her a rent that is...nominal, to say the least.”
She still didn’t quite see what all the fuss was about. “Surely Zeb doesn’t think I’m going to raise the rent or evict them or something. Things can just go on the way they are.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jake’s frown told her that despite his words, there was something worse to come. “A week or so before Rebecca’s stroke, Zeb had asked her to sign one of the farms over to him so that he could use it for collateral on a loan. She hadn’t made a decision yet, so that’s in limbo, and I don’t know how badly he needed or wanted the money.”
No wonder Zeb was upset. “But he could hardly expect to go anywhere with that project while Rebecca is incapacitated, no matter who had the power of attorney.”
Jake shrugged. “As I said, I don’t know how badly he needs the money. And it is possible for the person with the power of attorney to sell property. In fact, it might become necessary for other reasons.”
Lainey glared at him, not liking the way this conversation was going. “Stop trying to break it to me gently. Just tell me.”
“I wasn’t.” His grin startled her. “But you’d be surprised how few people can keep up when a lawyer starts explaining things.”
“They teach you that in law school, do they?” That smile of his seemed to touch something inside her.
“Actually, I picked that up from my dad.”
The only thing she’d picked up from a long line of stepdads was that she was superfluous. And the assurance that they wouldn’t be around for long.
“So why might it be necessary to sell property?” She could feel the weight of responsibility getting heavier.
“I don’t know how much you remember about Amish beliefs, but they don’t have insurance. Decisions may have to be made about how to pay for Rebecca’s care. As long as her assets are tied up in land, it’s not going to be easy to come up with funds.”
She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. “But surely, Medicare...”
He was already shaking his head. “The Amish don’t pay into Medicare and Social Security, and they don’t accept the benefits. In the case of someone needing hospital care, the family pays out of pocket, and when necessary, the church district takes up an offering to make up the difference.”
She tried to wrap her mind around it. So in addition to fending off angry relatives and making decisions about Aunt Rebecca’s care that she felt very ill-equipped to make, she was also probably going to be landed with a cartload of bills she couldn’t pay. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
“Is that all of it? You don’t have any more surprises for me?”
“That’s it.” She thought she read sympathy in his clear green eyes. “Sorry about hitting you with all of this, but you wanted to know.”
“I did.” Lainey took a deep breath. It didn’t help. “Well, thanks for being honest with me.”
“It’s not an easy situation. To continue being honest, I advised her against choosing you for this responsibility.”
“Prejudiced without seeing me?” she asked sweetly.
“It’s not that.” His tanned face flushed. “I just thought it made more sense to name someone here, someone who’d have a better understanding of Rebecca’s situation.”
“Like my great-uncle Zeb?” The momentary connection she’d felt at his sympathy vanished.
“No, certainly not Zeb.” His voice was crisp. “Not anyone who has something to gain or lose by the decisions that might be made. But that list still includes other people who...” He let that trail off.
But she could finish it for him. “...who are more qualified than I am? Annoying as that is, you may be right.”
Jake’s jaw set, and he seemed to censor the words that sprang to his lips. “As I mentioned, you don’t have to accept. We could make a recommendation that another person be chosen because you’re unable to perform the duties. After all, you have a home and a life elsewhere. No one could blame you for saying no.”
Home was something she’d never had, unless she counted one long-ago summer. And her life was such a mess that she wasn’t especially eager to return to it.
But neither of those was a good reason for turning down the responsibility Aunt Rebecca had thrust upon her.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, rising. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
Jake stood, too, looking down at her for a long moment, his face giving nothing away. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” He glanced at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the office.” Without waiting for a response, he walked quickly out of the chapel.
Lainey followed more slowly. Heading down the hall toward her aunt’s room, she tried to marshal her thoughts, but they refused to be collected.
She was aware of one overwhelming urge. Escape. That was what she always did, wasn’t it? When things got difficult, when relationships grew sticky, she escaped. At least, unlike her mother, she didn’t marry her mistakes.
At the moment, her stomach churned with anxiety, with the urge to keep going right past that hospital room where Aunt Rebecca lay, to get on the elevator, to get in her rental car, and get out of town.
She