The collector called me Monday morning and asked whether I was aware that my brother had listed both our names on the paperwork when he sold our mother’s china. I told her I knew nothing about it. She said the buyer had purchased it believing my brother had authority to sell it, and now there was a dispute over where the money had gone. I asked why my name was on the paperwork. She said my brother had signed beside it and claimed I had agreed. I hadn’t signed anything.
I called my brother and asked him about the forty thousand dollars. He laughed and said I was making Christmas difficult again. Then I told him I’d spoken to his solicitor. The laughter stopped. He said there had been a misunderstanding and that the money from the china had gone toward expenses he’d had while helping our mother. I reminded him that he’d told everyone the china was practically worthless when I sold it to help him. He went quiet, then said, “You really want to do this now?” I said, “You started it two years ago.”
That afternoon his solicitor called me directly. He had found something my brother hadn’t told him. The original inventory of our mother’s belongings listed the china as jointly inherited by both of us, which meant my brother couldn’t legally sell it without my consent. But there was another document attached to the estate file — a handwritten note from our mother, witnessed two weeks before she died. It specifically named the china and explained exactly who was supposed to receive it. The solicitor asked me to come in Tuesday morning. Then he said, “Bring your brother if he’ll come.” I asked why. He answered, “Because the person your brother told us owned that china isn’t you.”
