“You always were unlucky with those things,” she said.
I almost smiled. It was the sort of small remark she might have made before Hannah passed away, when an ordinary morning still belonged to all of us.
The lawyer placed an estate form between us. Lorraine read each page before signing, smoothing the same cuff of her blouse whenever she reached a paragraph she did not like.
“This is routine,” she told me. “It will help settle the household accounts.”
I looked at the heading. Hannah’s name appeared in the first paragraph, but the form listed only a few household expenses and a statement about family property.
“What does this do to Hannah’s assets?” I asked.
The lawyer adjusted his glasses. “Nothing. This form does not transfer or determine ownership of Hannah’s assets.”
Lorraine turned toward him. “Then what is its purpose?”
“It records the household arrangement you described. It does not replace any existing legal authority.”
