I answered on speaker. “If this is another filing, I’m throwing myself overboard.”
“That would complicate service,” he said. “So please don’t.”
I smiled despite myself. “What happened?”
A beat.
“Grant filed the motion,” he said. “He’s formally contesting the amended will.”
I looked out at the water, hard bright blue under a clean sky. “On what basis?”
“Undue influence, lack of capacity, emotional duress. The usual desperation package.”
A wave slapped the hull. I tightened the line in my hand.
“He’s willing to drag my father through probate court after everything?”
“Yes.”
The anger came back then, not hot but dense. Like ballast dropping into place.
“There’s more,” Blackwood said. “His counsel is requesting disclosure of the hospice records and seeking depositions from the attending nurse and physician. He’s going to make a public argument that your father was confused, manipulated, and unfairly alienated from Grant by you and me.”
I laughed once, with no humor in it at all. “He’s really going with widow hysteria and elderly confusion. How very vintage.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the sexism,” Blackwood said.