The Return of the Sister

My older sister left for California at noon on Tuesday. I really thought that after she glared at me and yelled and yelled Monday afternoon I was done with her. And then she rose again like Glenn Close in the tub at the end of Fatal Attraction.

She spent Wednesday on the phone to lawyers here in Chicagoland and then to my kid sister, suggesting an alternate to the lawyer I have chosen and how I should handle my mother's estate. She did not call me directly.

I don't know what my sister told the other attorney. My mother really had nothing but bills. We don't have a lot of options for how to handle her "estate." And the will is clear -- I am the executor and I make the decisions. My lawyer is my lawyer. I like him, I trust him, he handles wills and real estate all the time. He is handling it.


I just have to be careful to cross my t's and dot my i's in case she challenges everything six months or a year from now. That's why I consulted an accountant this afternoon.

Real estate agents, the reverse mortgage lender, Social Security, a lawyer, an accountant ... I think I'm done with the phone calls for a while. This weekend we'll receive reports from the realtors that will confirm what we already know -- my mother's house is not worth anywhere near $200,000. Then we'll settle with her reverse mortgage lender, file the will, and begin to pay off my mom's final debts.

In the meantime, my kid sister is packing up the house. She has a lot to contend with, too.

If only our older sister would return to the bottom of the tub.