Chapter 7 - The House Becomes Evidence

The solicitor arrived on Thursday.

His name was Daniel Price, and he had handled Helen’s affairs for fifteen years.

He came to the house because Paige refused to discuss the will in his office without Anna present.

Anna almost did not attend.

“I hate legal rooms,” she said.

“So do I.”

“You work in publishing.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You own blazers.”

Paige looked down at her navy jacket.

“I regret wearing this.”

“You should.”

Daniel arrived at eleven carrying a leather case and an expression that suggested he had expected family conflict but not quite this configuration.

He shook Anna’s hand.

“Ms. Reed.”

“Anna.”

“Of course.”

He sat at the dining table.

The paddling-pool photograph had been moved from the mantel to the table because Paige and Anna had started using it as a reference point.

Before.

After.

Two children standing beside evidence that they had once been together.

Daniel noticed it.

“Helen had a copy in my file.”

Paige stared.

“What?”

“She used it when she amended the will.”

Anna sat down.

“So everyone had this photograph except us.”

Daniel looked uncomfortable.

“That is a fair criticism.”

Paige appreciated that he did not hide behind professional language.

They reviewed the will.

Forty percent of the net sale of the house to Anna, contingent on identification before final distribution.

Fifty percent to Paige.

Ten percent to the St. Helena Cancer Trust.

The investment account to Paige.

Personal possessions to be divided by Paige at her discretion, with a letter asking her to consider Anna if found.

Anna laughed bitterly at that.

“Consider me.”

Daniel folded his hands.

“Helen was aware the language was imperfect.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“That no language could repair what happened.”

Anna looked away.

Paige asked, “Did she tell you she had found Anna online?”

Daniel nodded.

“When?”

“December fifth.”

“Two days after she went to Anna’s office.”

“Yes.”

“What did you advise?”

“That she contact Anna directly.”

Anna looked at him.

“And?”

“She said she needed time.”

Anna laughed once.

“She had thirty years.”

Daniel did not argue.

He opened another folder.

“There is an issue.”

Paige sighed.

“Of course.”

“Helen placed a temporary restriction on sale of the house.”

“What?”

“She executed a six-month hold unless both beneficiaries agree to sell sooner.”

Anna stared.

“Both.”

“Yes.”

“She named me beneficiary before knowing whether I wanted anything.”

“Yes.”

“So I can block a sale.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You can sign consent.”

Paige looked around the room.

“I’m not sure I want to sell now.”

Anna turned.

“What?”

“I said I’m not sure.”

“You were sure last week.”

“I didn’t know you existed last week.”

“That does not mean the house has to become a shrine.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s already becoming evidence storage.”

Paige’s face warmed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Anna gestured toward the boxes.

“Every room is another search.”

“We’re still finding things.”

“Exactly.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Anna leaned forward.

“I don’t want our entire relationship to be archaeology.”

The sentence stopped Paige.

Daniel looked at his papers with great concentration.

Paige lowered her voice.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t attack me for not knowing.”

“I’m not attacking.”

“You said the house is evidence storage.”

“Because it is.”

Paige stood.

“Maybe I am not ready to sell the place where I spent forty years.”

“Fine.”

“Maybe finding out half my childhood was edited makes me want something familiar.”

“Fine.”

“Stop saying fine.”

Anna stood too.

“Then stop acting like keeping the house is emotionally neutral.”

“I never said it was.”

“It keeps everything centered on your childhood.”

Paige stared.

There it was.

Not the will.

Not money.

Geography.

The house itself was Paige’s memory palace.

Every room proved she had belonged.

Anna had no equivalent place to bring Paige and say: Here is where Mum stood. Here is where we both ate breakfast. Here is proof we were sisters.

Paige sat down.

“I didn’t think of that.”

Anna’s anger softened.

“I know.”

Daniel closed his file.

“I can return another day.”

“No,” both women said.

They looked at each other.

Daniel almost smiled.

They continued.

He explained the inheritance tax.

The timeline.

The need for Anna to establish identity formally because her surname had changed twice and Thomas had altered records when moving schools.

Anna groaned.

“He changed my middle name too.”

Paige looked at her.

“What?”

“From Louise to Louisa on school forms. He said Mum wrote it wrong on the birth certificate.”

Daniel frowned.

“Your birth certificate says Louise.”

“I know now.”

Paige stared.

“What name do you use?”

“Anna L. Reed.”

“Why not spell it out?”

Anna smiled bitterly.

“Because for years I wasn’t sure which one was legally mine.”

Paige’s chest tightened.

Another small consequence.

Not dramatic enough for family stories.

Permanent enough to shape a signature.

Daniel helped outline the identity process.

Then he hesitated.

“There is one final document.”

Anna laughed.

“This family loves final documents.”

“It is a letter Helen wrote to both of you.”

Paige stared.

“Another?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In my file.”

“Why didn’t Margaret know?”

“Helen asked me not to tell anyone.”

Anna closed her eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

Daniel looked apologetic.

“I was acting under client instruction.”

“What does it say?” Paige asked.

“I have not read it.”

“Why?”

“Sealed correspondence.”

“When were you supposed to give it?”

Daniel looked at Anna.

“When both daughters were in the same room by choice.”

Anna’s face changed.

Paige stared at the photograph on the table.

“By choice.”

“Yes.”

“Not just found.”

“No.”

Anna sat back.

“That is manipulative.”

Paige almost smiled.

“A little.”

“It makes this moment into some achievement for her.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to read it?”

Paige thought.

“No.”

Anna looked surprised.

“No?”

“Not today.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want Mum deciding the agenda again.”

Anna smiled.

“Good answer.”

Daniel put the sealed letter back into his case.

“You can request it whenever you choose.”

After he left, Anna stood in the hallway.

“I should go.”

Paige looked at the clock.

It was only one.

“Okay.”

Anna looked almost disappointed.

Paige noticed.

“Did you want me to ask you to stay?”

“No.”

“That sounded like yes.”

Anna rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Lunch?”

Paige smiled.

“Not here.”

“Why?”

“You said you don’t want archaeology.”

Anna looked at her.

“Where?”

“You choose.”

They went to a small Italian restaurant across town.

No connection to Helen.

No connection to Thomas.

No childhood history.

It felt strangely risky.

Without the past to investigate, they had to talk about themselves.

“What do you do exactly?” Anna asked.

“Editorial director.”

“What does that mean?”

“I tell writers their books are too long.”

Anna stared.

“That’s a job?”

“I also tell them where the middle stops working.”

“Still sounds fake.”

“It is very real when they hate me.”

Anna smiled.

“What do you clean?”

“Mostly houses. Some offices. End-of-tenancy work.”

“Do you like it?”

Anna thought.

“Sometimes.”

“What part?”

“Visible progress.”

Paige nodded.

“That makes sense.”

“You?”

“What?”

“Do you like editing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Paige smiled.

“Same reason.”

Anna looked surprised.

“You take a messy draft and help someone see the shape.”

Anna pointed her fork at her.

“That is suspiciously similar.”

“Very.”

They laughed.

Then Anna asked, “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Paige raised an eyebrow.

“That is aggressively personal.”

“We’re sisters.”

The word came easier this time.

Paige noticed.

Anna noticed her noticing.

“Don’t make a face.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Paige smiled.

“I was engaged once.”

“What happened?”

“He wanted children.”

“You didn’t?”

“I didn’t know.”

“That ended it?”

“Eventually.”

Anna nodded.

“Do you know now?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“No.”

Anna accepted that.

“What about you?” Paige asked.

“Divorced.”

“You said.”

“One serious relationship after. Ended last year.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to move to Spain.”

“You didn’t?”

“I had the company.”

“Did you want him to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask?”

Anna looked annoyed.

“That is aggressive.”

“We’re sisters.”

Anna laughed despite herself.

“No. I didn’t ask.”

“Why?”

“I knew his answer.”

Paige did not say it.

Anna did.

“Apparently I inherited that from Mum.”

The joke carried enough truth to sting.

They finished lunch.

Outside, Anna stopped beside Paige’s car.

“I don’t want the house to define us.”

Paige nodded.

“Agreed.”

“I also don’t want you to sell because you think that proves you’re making space for me.”

“Agreed.”

“So what do we do?”

Paige thought.

“Nothing for a month.”

Anna frowned.

“About the house?”

“Yes.”

“Can we legally?”

“Yes. Six-month hold.”

Anna smiled.

“Six weeks would have been funnier.”

“Too cruel.”

They stood in the cold.

Paige said, “And once a week, we do something that has nothing to do with our parents.”

Anna looked suspicious.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bad start.”

“Dinner. Film. Walk. Museum.”

“I hate museums.”

“Useful information.”

Anna nodded.

“Once a week.”

“No investigation.”

“No blue tin.”

“No Margaret interrogations.”

“No will.”

Paige held out her hand.

Anna looked at it.

“This is weird.”

“I know.”

She shook it anyway.

“Deal.”

That Friday, they went bowling.

Anna won.

Paige accused her of cheating.

Anna told her she had become exactly like their father.

Paige threw a napkin at her.

For two hours, they did not talk about Helen, Thomas, the house, the will, childhood, letters, or lost years.

On the drive home, Paige realized she had learned three new things.

Anna hated lager.

Anna bowled left-handed.

Anna laughed louder when genuinely surprised.

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None of it repaired thirty years.

That was exactly why it mattered.