Emily's Will Be Done

By L. P. Suzanne Atkinson

Emily's Will Be Done, while revealing the hidden truths of the executor role, tells the intimate story of a lonely woman layered with enigmas and surrounded by secrets.

After my friend's sudden death, I become solely responsible for a complicated estate, compounded by mystery, and

• Language: English
• Publisher: lpsabooks
• Release date: Jul 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994959041

L. P. Suzanne Atkinson

L. P. Suzanne Atkinson was born in New Brunswick, Canada and lived in Alberta, Quebec, and Nova Scotia before settling on Prince Edward Island in 2022. She has degrees from Mount Allison, Acadia, and McGill universities. Suzanne spent her professional career in the fields of mental health and home care. She also owned and operated, with her husband, both an antique business and a construction business for more than twenty-five years. Suzanne writes about the unavoidable consequences of relationships. She uses her life and work experiences to weave stories that cross many boundaries. She and her husband, David Weintraub, make the fabulous Summerside, Prince Edward Island home.Email - [e-mail] - http://lpsabooks.wix.com/lpsabooks#Face Book - L. P. Suzanne Atkinson - AuthorFace Book - lpsabooks Private Stash

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cover_epub.jpgTitle page for Emily's Will Be Done L. P. Suzanne Atkinson image of a pen with ink splotch

Copyright © 2012 by L. P. Suzanne Atkinson

Second Edition—July, 2016

ISBN

978-0-9949-5903-4 (Paperback)

978-0-9949-5904-1 (eBook)

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information browsing, storage, or retrieval system, with permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of creative non-fiction. The names of most people and places, as well as certain circumstances, have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

Produced by:

lpsabooks

Distributed to the trade by The Ingram Book Company

Contents

Prologue

Setting the Stage

Rob’s Death and the Aftermath

The Downward Spiral

Getting the Call

No Time to Cry

It’s All About the Money

Behind Closed Doors

Searches

The Gun

The Trappings of Life

The Beneficiaries

The Beach

Not Quite Done Yet

Epilogue

About Your Will:

About Being an Executor:

About the Author

This book is a penetrating account of the emotional aspects of administering a friend’s estate and ensuring that her wishes are fulfilled, despite the frustrations of red tape. After over forty years as a lawyer in this field, I recommend this book both as a preparation for the layperson who may one day face the same chore, and for the professional who could improve the quality of his services by gaining much insight into the client’s point of view.

Borden L. Conrad, Q.C.

This book is an education and a poignant journey of discovery (and it reads like a guilty pleasure). A must-read for anyone who plans to execute a will, and a should-read for everybody else. Emily’s Will Be Done is a striking achievement.

Lynn McCarron

This book is dedicated to David.

I thank David, Wyneth, Pauline, Borden, and Lynn.

As well as that circle of supporters

(you know who you are)

without whom I could not have ensured

that Emily’s Will Be Done

Prologue

A friend and I spend the morning combing through peaceful roadside graveyards in the sleepy village of Charles River, looking for the grave of Juleen Clarisse Brooks—1918-1980. I never knew her; only that she was the indulgent mother of my dear friend Emily. Juleen was born in Quebec and buried in Charles River—a minuscule community in the centre of the woods in south-western Nova Scotia. Emily’s Last Will and Testament requests that I scatter a portion of her ashes on her mother’s grave. My first task is to find the grave.

I have a couple of basic scraps of information—her name, date of birth, date of death. Somehow, back when I searched through the huge three-bedroom traditional house filled to the very rafters with collectibles and the lifetime memories of Emily and her parents, Emily and her husband, and Emily herself (no photo albums, of course), I found a Polaroid picture of Juleen’s grave, quite by accident, stuffed in the back of a tattered book about doll-collecting. I tucked it away in my ever-expanding manila folder of ‘this might come in handy’ items, part of my struggle with the mountain of possessions, suddenly my sole responsibility.

With this murky picture as my only clue, I called a friend who lives not far from Charles River, and asked for directions to all the graveyards in the area. Without hesitation, she generously offered to give me a personal graveyard tour of her community and on a sunny July 1st morning (two months to the day after my father unexpectedly passed away), we met in the parking lot in front of the local general store and set out.

My journey through Emily’s life, after her untimely death, brought me many surprises. Emily was an only child of only children. When I met her, both her parents were already dead and she clung to her husband like a drowning fisherman clings to his upturned boat. She talked little of her past; this community never had a place in Emily’s life, from what I knew of her. But the grave shines new light on her family history. A granite bordered plot frames the graves of her great grandfather, her grandfather and grandmother, and her father and mother. I am stunned. Standing on the side of the hill under an aged and time-worn pine, a carpet of needles beneath my feet; with black flies of summer circling incessantly, I discover Charles River is the seat of her paternal family history. Emily has a story that has never been told.

I am profoundly moved and more than a little saddened that I know virtually nothing about the history of my friend, and now there is no one left from whom I can learn her closely-guarded secrets. Charged with scattering ashes in this timeless spot, it is revealed to me that she harboured a special place in her heart for the tiny community tucked into these woods.

I cannot, with any authority, tell you the story of my friend Emily’s life. What I will try and tell you is the story of our friendship, how I managed her affairs, the challenges I faced as I wrapped up her estate, my attempts to respect her wishes, and how I have learned to live with the unanswered questions that will forever haunt me as I wind my way through my own life’s journey. I hope to share with you some of the struggles, frustrations, insights, and complications I experienced as an executor, insuring that Emily’s Will Be Done.

Chapter 1

Setting the Stage

When my husband and I decide to buy a rundown Queen Anne revival historic home right on the main drag of what we believe to be one of the most beautiful towns we have ever seen, we have a vision of how our lives will change. Our move to Elmsville, Nova Scotia from northern Alberta comes late in 1991.

In the west, any structure older than twenty-five years would routinely be knocked down to make way for something newer, fresher, and more modern. We fall in love with the Maritime architecture and the lifestyle. Besides, the people are so friendly. We feel we are escaping the north, where we have been running a successful construction business but where the town has suffered a cosmic shift when a huge pulp mill moved in and, in our eyes, ruined the community forever. We pick Nova Scotia to relocate, slow down, start a smaller home-renovation business and deal in antiques (my personal passion) out of the house.

So, my goal is to renovate this beautiful century home, have a little antique shop in the front parlour, and support my husband as he limits his vast construction experience to work on hardwood floor and ceramic tile installations. We will downsize and live a simpler life; be closer to my family.

The house has not seen an upgrade of any kind since the 1940s. The smell of mildew, mouse poop and furnace oil assaults me when I walk in the back door. The rooms are huge, the windows big and the staircase can almost speak its welcome. I am in love and this house loves me back. I run my hand along the old oak banister as I sit on the stairs looking out over the central hall and the country kitchen. This will be home.

Prior to purchasing the property we had completed our due diligence. We talked to the town manager and discovered that Elmsville was not so enthusiastic about an antique shop being established in their little town. We wonder why. Is this not the backbone of Nova Scotia business: catering to the elusive American tourist?

In spite of this, we persevere. We will bring two new businesses to town and restore an old house on the main street into the bargain. We are convinced that we will be an asset to Elmsville; that everybody will see it and appreciate our efforts. We buy the house, apply for the permit, and go back to Alberta to liquidate our business, our property, a piece of land, and as many possessions as we can possibly sell. While still in Alberta, a letter comes from the Town of Elmsville. They are not interested in allowing us a development permit for our little antique business. Apparently, a neighbour has taken up a petition against us, suggesting to the locals that we could potentially rezone the house to commercial status and sell to McDonald’s.

Still undaunted, we resolve to clear up any misunderstandings when we get back to Elmsville. We soldier on, driving across the country in a twenty-eight foot U-Haul, towing our SUV, and roll into the yard in Elmsville early in November. We meet the neighbours, with whom we will be sharing a driveway, right off the bat, as the top of our truck rips their phone line clear away from their house. He is a minister and, thankfully, very forgiving.

Without Town permission to open the antique shop we determine to worm our way into the hearts of the local business people. We decide to ignore the petition, and the fact that the town’s primary insurance agent has refused to insure our house citing misrepresentation of our intention to open a commercial operation. Instead of sulking, we join the Elmsville Board of Trade. This will be our way to introduce ourselves to the local movers and shakers. Once they get to know us—and Maritimers are so friendly, after all—there will be no problem. They will be thrilled to have us join their community.

The Board of Trade meeting is held in the Community Centre located in the middle of town. This one is a luncheon catered by the local seniors’ group. Entering the room precisely on time, we see the members seated at a very long, narrow table, so narrow that the knees of a person on one side are touching the knees of the person seated opposite. About a dozen men and women occupy the majority of the existing seats. Those with their backs to the door turn around. Everyone stares. No one speaks. We expect, perhaps, the chairperson to rise and introduce herself—to attempt to make us welcome. Nothing. Quickly, my husband and I glance at each other and see instantly, with that eye-to-eye communication only couples share, that we are both horribly uncomfortable. After all these years, I can still conjure up the anxiety and prickly rise in temperature I felt that day.

A couple, separated from the group by two or three places, stands and motions to seats near them. We walk over and sit down. Quiet introductions follow and our friendship with the Maxwells begins. No one else at the table acknowledges or speaks to us during or after the meeting.

A huge blue and white Victorian guest house, also located on the main street about a ten minute walk from us, graces the entrance to the little town of Elmsville. Emily and Rob Maxwell own this guest house: The Elmsville Inn. Both are retired from the military and moved east to be nearer Emily’s parents.

When her parents passed away, Emily and Rob invested their retirement savings in a rundown boarding house and magically restored it into a vibrant and successful inn. The Inn has four guest rooms upstairs along with a kitchen and small TV room. There are two bathrooms for the guests to share. In addition to the entrance foyer and reception desk downstairs, there is a small breakfast room in the front of the house, separated from their apartment by imposing original oak pocket doors. Their private accommodation consists of a living room, small kitchen, storage pantry, single bedroom and bath. I was always incredulous at the breakfast creations Emily was able to produce in that tiny kitchen.

After being members of the Board of Trade for more than a year, Emily and Rob are still treated no better than we were at