“About a hundred thousand there,” I said. “What he and mom had managed to scrape together for retirement. They’d saved for years. They never spent anything on themselves. He could have made a hundred grand last him till the day he died.” I caught myself. “If he’d lived another twenty or thirty years, I mean. And I gather there’s a life insurance policy that’s fairly small.”
Harry Peyton nodded and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers at the back of his head. He sucked in some air between his teeth. “You’ll have to decide what to do about the house. You’ve every right to put it up for sale, split the proceeds with your brother. There’s no mortgage on the place, and I’m guessing you could get three, four hundred thou for it.”
“About that,” I said. “There’s nearly sixteen acres.”
“Which, if you got that, would leave each of you with about a quarter million, give or take. That’s not a bad chunk of change, all things considered. How old are you, Ray?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“And your brother, he’s two years younger, that right?”
“Yes.”
Peyton nodded slowly. “Invested wisely, it might be enough to last him quite a few years, but he’s still a young man. And he’s got a while before he hits Social Security. He’s not really employable, from what your dad told me.”
I hesitated. “That’s fair.”
“For you, well, the money’s a different thing. You could invest it, buy a bigger house for the time when you have—I know you’re not married now, Ray, but someday, you meet someone, you have kids—”
“I know,” I said. I’d come close to getting married, a couple of times, in my twenties, but it never happened. “I don’t see any kids on the horizon.”
“You never know.” He waved his hand again. “None of my business, anyway, except in an unofficial capacity, because I think your dad hoped I’d look out for you boys, offer you guidance where I could.” He laughed. “You’re hardly boys anymore, of course. It’s been a long time since that was the case.”
“Appreciate it, Harry.”
“The point I’m making, Ray, is for you it’s a minor windfall, but you’d have made out fine without it. You make a good living, and if your work takes a downturn, you’ll find something else, land on your feet. But for your brother, this inheritance is all he’ll ever have. He might need the money from the house to keep him afloat, provided he can find a place, someplace suitable, where his rent’s subsidized or something.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said.
“What I’m wondering is, will you be able to get him out of the house? I mean, you know, not just for the afternoon, but permanently?”
I looked about the room, as though I might find the answer. “I don’t know. It’s not like he’s—what’s the word—agoraphobic? Dad managed to get him out, once in a while. Mostly for his doctor’s appointments.” I found it hard to say the word “psychiatrist,” but Harry knew. “It’s not getting him outside that’s the problem. It’s prying him away from the keyboard. Whenever he and Dad went out, they both returned home pretty frazzled. Moving him out, settling him in someplace else, it’s not something I look forward to.”
Harry said, “Well, I’ll get the ball rolling here. The great thing for you, being an executor, is there really isn’t all that much to do, except to come in here the odd time and sign some papers. There’ll be the occasional item I’ll need your take on, and I’ll have Alice give you a dingle. You might want to get the property appraised, tell you what it could go for.” He ruffled through his papers. “I got all your numbers and e-mail address here I think.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“And you probably knew—your dad had sent me a copy of the policy for his files—that there was an accidental death provision in his life insurance.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Another fifty thousand. A little something else to go into the pot.” Harry paused while I digested this news. “So, you’re going to be hanging around for a while, then, before you head back to Burlington?”
“Until I sort things out.”
We were done, at least for now. As Harry led me out of the office, he put his hand on my arm.
“Ray,” he said tentatively, “do you think if your brother had noticed how long it had been since your dad had been in the house, if he’d gone out looking for him a little sooner, it would have made any difference?”
I’d asked myself the same question. Dad, pinned to the ground just over the hill, probably several hours before my brother found him. There had to have been quite a racket when it happened. The tractor flipping over, the rotating blades roaring.
Did Dad scream? And if he had, would he have been heard over the noise of the mower? Would any of the sounds have carried up over the hill to the house?
My brother probably never heard a thing.
“I tell myself it wouldn’t have made any difference,” I said. “There’s no point thinking otherwise.”
Harry nodded understandingly. “I guess that’s the best way to look at it. What’s done is done. No turning back the clock.” I wondered if Harry was going to offer up another cliché, but instead he said, “He’s really off in his own little world, isn’t he?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said.