Chapter 16 - The Cold Cup of Coffee
By dusk, the weather had turned bitter. A cold drizzle fell from the gray Michigan sky, pattering against the tin roof of our cabin.
Ellis was out by the front gate padlocking the heavy chain we had wrapped around the access posts, while I sat at the table with our ledgers, trying to calculate how many weeks we could sustain payroll if the Holland lumber contract was delayed.
A soft, hesitant tap sounded against the back screen door.
It wasn't Ellis. He always used the front porch.
I walked to the kitchen door, flicking on the outside floodlight. Standing under the eaves, soaked through her threadbare wool coat, was my father's sister, Aunt Clara. Her white hair was plastered to her forehead, and her frail hands were clutching a battered metal breadbox to her chest.
"Abby," she whispered, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely form the words. "Please... don't tell Raymond I came here."
I unlocked the screen immediately, pulling her inside into the warmth of the woodstove. Her coat was icy, her fingers stiff as twigs. Ivy came running from the hallway with a thick woolen blanket, wrapping it around the old woman’s shoulders while I poured a mug of hot black coffee.
"Drink this, Clara," I urged, holding the mug to her trembling hands.
She took one sip, then broke down in dry, breathless sobs. "I didn't want to sign it, Abby. God forgive me, I swear on Sanford’s memory I didn't want to."
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"Sign what, Clara?" I asked gently, kneeling beside her chair. "The codicil?"
"Raymond came to my house in Middleville last Sunday," she sobbed, clutching the metal box against her lap like a shield. "He had a pile of unpaid tax liens on my house. He told me if I didn't sign the witness line Arthur Pendelton drew up, he would let the county seize my home. He said you already had everything... that you took the eighty acres out from under the family and left him with nothing."
