“Why you and not—”
“Another attorney in town?” Tanner asked, finishing for him. “I got the impression that he wanted an attorney who didn’t have deep roots in this town. He didn’t put much faith in attorney-client privilege, even when I assured him it was absolute. Is there anything more I can add that I didn’t cover?”
When Amanda shook her head, he pulled the file closer to him and slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “Then let’s get started. Tuck left instructions on how he wanted me to handle things as his executor. You should know those wishes included the fact that he didn’t want a traditional funeral. Instead, he asked that, after his death, I arrange for cremation, and per his wishes as to the timing, Tuck Hostetler was cremated yesterday.” He motioned toward the box on his desk, leaving no doubt that it held Tuck’s ashes.
Amanda paled. “But we arrived yesterday.”
“I know. He’d asked that I try to take care of it before you arrived.”
“He didn’t want us there?”
“He didn’t want anyone there.”
“Why not?”
“All I can say is that he was specific in his instructions. But if I were to guess, I think he was under the impression that having to make any of the arrangements might have been upsetting to you.” He lifted a page from the file and held it up. “He said — and I’m quoting him here—‘ain’t no reason my death should be a burden to ’em.’ ” Tanner removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair, trying to gauge their reactions.
“In other words, there’s no funeral?” Amanda asked.
“Not in the traditional sense, no.”
Amanda turned toward Dawson and back to Tanner again. “Then why did he want us to come?”
“He asked that I contact you in the hope that you would do something else for him, something more important than the cremation. Essentially, he wanted the two of you to scatter his ashes at a place he said was very special to him, a place apparently neither of you has ever visited.”
It took Amanda only a moment to figure it out. “His cottage at Vandemere?”
Tanner nodded. “That’s it. Tomorrow would be ideal, at whatever time you choose. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I’ll have it taken care of. I have to go up there anyway.”
“No, tomorrow’s fine,” Amanda said.
Tanner lifted a slip of paper. “Here’s the address, and I took the liberty of printing directions as well. It’s a bit off the beaten path, as you might suspect. And there’s one other thing: He asked that I give you these,” he said, removing three sealed envelopes from the file. “You’ll notice that two have your names on them. He asked that you read the unmarked one aloud first, sometime prior to the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” Amanda repeated.
“The scattering of the ashes, I meant,” he said, handing over the directions and the envelopes. “And of course, feel free to add anything either of you might want to say.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking them. The envelopes felt oddly heavy, weighted with mystery. “But what about the other two?”
“I assume you’re to read those afterward.”
“You assume?”
“Tuck wasn’t specific about that, other than to say that after you’ve read the first letter, you’ll know when to open the other two.”
Amanda took the envelopes and slipped them in her purse, trying to digest everything Tanner had told them. Dawson seemed equally perplexed.
Tanner perused the file again. “Any questions?”
“Did he give specifics on where at Vandemere he wanted the ashes scattered?”
“No,” Tanner answered.
“How will we know, since we’ve never been there?”
“That’s the same question I asked him, but he seemed sure that you would understand what to do.”
“Did he have a particular hour of day in mind?”
“Again, he left that up to you. However, he was adamant in his desire that it remain a private ceremony. He asked me to make sure, for instance, that no information be given to the newspaper regarding his death, not even an obituary. I got the sense that he didn’t want anyone, aside from the three of us, to know that he’d even died. And I followed his wishes, to the greatest extent possible. Of course, word inevitably leaked out despite my best attempts, but I want you to know that I’ve done all that I could.”
“Did he say why?”
“No,” Tanner answered. “Nor did I ask. By that time, I’d figured out that unless he volunteered it, he probably wasn’t going to tell me.” He looked at Amanda and Dawson, waiting to see if they had further questions. When they stayed quiet, he flipped the top page in the folder. “Moving on to the subject of his estate, you both know that Tuck had no surviving family. While I understand that your grief may make this feel like an inopportune time to discuss his will, he did ask that I let you know what he intended to do while you were both here. Would that be all right?” When they nodded, he went on. “Tuck’s assets weren’t insubstantial. He owned quite a bit of land, in addition to having funds in several accounts. I’m still working through the numbers, but what you should know is this: He asked that you help yourselves to any of his personal property that you may desire, even if it’s only a single item. He simply asked that if there was disagreement about anything, the two of you work it out while you’re here. I’ll be handling the probate over the next few months, but essentially, the remainder of his estate will be sold, with the proceeds to benefit the Pediatric Cancer Center at Duke University Hospital.” Tanner smiled at Amanda. “He thought you’d want to know that.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She could feel Dawson’s quiet alertness beside her. “It’s so generous of him.” She hesitated, more affected than she wanted to admit. “He — I guess he knew what it would mean to me.”
Tanner nodded before sorting through the pages and finally set them aside. “I think that’s it, unless you can think of anything.”
There was nothing else, and after their good-byes Amanda rose while Dawson lifted the walnut box from the desk. Tanner stood but made no motion to follow them out. Amanda accompanied Dawson to the door, noticing the frown forming on his face. Before they reached the door, he paused and turned around.
“Mr. Tanner?”
“Yes?”
“You said something I’m curious about.”
“Oh?”
“You said that tomorrow would be ideal. I assume you meant tomorrow as opposed to today.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Tanner moved the file to the corner of his desk. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t.”
“What was that about?” Amanda asked.
They were walking toward her car, which was still parked outside the coffee shop. Instead of answering, Dawson put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you doing for lunch?” he asked.
“You’re not going to answer my question?”
“I’m not sure what to say. Tanner didn’t give me an answer.”
“But why did you ask the question in the first place?”
“Because I’m a curious person,” he said. “I’ve always been curious about everything.”