An Amish Arrangement

Kitty Vasic was the picture of an elegant, successful businesswoman. She wore a business suit of the brightest pink Mercy had ever seen, and her shoes had spiked heels that must be five inches high. Mercy was fascinated, because she expected the Realtor to topple on each step.

“Mr. Stoltzfus, how nice to meet you in person.” Kitty held out her hand and when he took it, she pumped his hand vigorously. “And you, too, Ms. Bamberger.”

“Please call me Mercy,” she said at the same time Jeremiah was urging the Realtor to use his given name.

Jeremiah added, “Plain folks don’t like to use titles.”

“Oh, that’s good to know.” Kitty smiled. “With you Amish moving into southern Washington County, it’s important to learn how to be good neighbors. Don’t you agree?”

Mercy considered saying she wasn’t Amish, but she didn’t want to delay hearing what the Realtor had to say. “We appreciate you coming so we can get this unfortunate situation resolved right away.”

Kitty’s smile wavered. “Oh, dear! I’m sorry if I led you to believe this could be settled today.”

“But I thought—” Jeremiah began.

“Let’s talk, and I’ll tell you what I do know.” She grinned as Sunni appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Well, hello, young lady. You must be a Bamberger because I know Jeremiah doesn’t have children.”

“Sunni,” Mercy said, “this would be a good time for you to finish the story we started last night.”

The little girl glanced at Jeremiah’s and Kitty’s taut faces. Mercy guessed her own expression was as uneasy. With a nod, Sunni went into the dining room, where two overstuffed chairs were set by a fireplace that opened into the kitchen, as well. It needed to be swept because ashes had tumbled onto the floor. Something else for Mercy to add to her lengthy to-do list.

Pushing aside her longing to go with her daughter and forget about these complications, Mercy squared her shoulders. “We can sit in the living room.”

Behind her, the click-click-click of Kitty’s high heels marked her steps, but Jeremiah’s boot falls were surprisingly light for such a tall, muscular man. She shook those thoughts from her head. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted.

She sat in what had been her grandfather’s favorite chair by the wide window offering a view of the road through the bare branches of the maple trees. Waiting until the others chose chairs, she gazed at the green tiles on the large fireplace.

“What can you tell us, Kitty?” she asked.

“It’s unlikely the closing will go on as planned.” Kitty shot an apologetic look toward Jeremiah.

His face went as blank as the wall behind him, and his gaze refused to meet hers. The pulse of sympathy surging through her was startling. If he closed on the property, her hopes for Come Along Farm would end. Yet, he had dreams for the property, too. Oh, how she wished there was a solution that could satisfy them both.

When the Realtor spoke again, Mercy focused on her. “We’ll need to consult with an attorney,” Kitty said, “to determine what New York law says. I’ve got to admit it’s the first time I’ve been involved with a property transfer where one party died before closing. Mercy, I should have said this before. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“Your grandfather was well respected and well liked. I can’t tell you how many times I enjoyed a cup of coffee with him at the Village Diner.”

“Did he mention why he decided to sell?” She regretted the question. Talking about private matters when Jeremiah sat a couple of feet away was unsettling.

Kitty reached over and patted her arm. “He was selling it for you and your daughter.”

“For us? But he promised...” This time she halted herself before she said too much.

“I don’t know what he told you, Mercy, but Rudy mentioned that he wanted you to have a majority of the money. He hoped you’d build a nice home so you’d be close to his assisted-living apartment. He spoke often about you and your daughter and how he looked forward to spending more time with you.”

“Why didn’t he tell me this?”

Kitty shook her head sadly. “That’s something I can’t answer. I’m as perplexed as you are. I’m sure he had his reasons, but he never mentioned them to me or Darren.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken with Darren?”

“I called him this morning. He said to tell you to call him.”

“I see.” Her lips tightened into a straight line, an expression that said as loudly as a shout she was annoyed. “We should wait on discussing this further until Darren can be here, too, to represent Rudy’s estate.”

“But do you think the contract is valid?” Jeremiah asked.

“We should wait—”

“I think Mercy is as anxious as I am to hear your opinion. I understand we can’t make decisions without Darren’s input, but is the contract valid?”

“From what I’ve read, the answer is yes and no. In some states, the contract would be invalid upon the death of either party.” She glanced from Mercy to him. “But we have leeway in New York. If the heir or heirs are willing, the contract can be completed. However, that is my opinion from a quick read on the internet. Until we have an opinion from an attorney, I don’t think either of you should assume anything.”

Jeremiah turned to Mercy. “You are your grossdawdi’s heir, ain’t so?”

“One of them, I guess. Rudy is my father’s father.”

“Is your father alive?” asked Kitty.

She nodded.

“What about his brothers and sisters?”

“My father has six siblings,” she replied.

Jeremiah sighed. “Kitty, when my daed—my dad—died, everything he had went to my mother. But if she’d died first...”

“The estate would be divided equally among his children.” Kitty bit her lower lip, then said, “Unless Rudy left a written and witnessed will that specifies otherwise.”

Mercy’s heart sank toward her knees as she realized where the conversation was going. If Grandpa Rudy hadn’t left a valid will naming her as his heir, the property would belong to her father, her four aunts and her two uncles.

“Do you have names and contact information for your father and his siblings?” asked Kitty.

“I can find them. All but one aunt have telephones.”

The Realtor smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. It’ll make getting in contact with them much easier. However, paperwork will have to be mailed to them for their signatures. I’m not sure, at this point, whether the signatures will have to be notarized. The probate court will let us know.”

“We have to go to court?” asked Jeremiah.

Mercy heard his consternation and understood. It usually wasn’t the way of plain folks to deal with courts and lawyers. Matters were settled privately and through prayer, but estate matters were different. She wondered whom her grandfather had hired to draft his will...if he had one.

She was out of her depth. Ask her about the needs of inner-city kids and the benefits of them enjoying a summer in the country, and she could expound for an hour. Since Sunni’s arrival in her life, she’d learned a lot about intercountry adoption and physical therapy and the adventures of the little girl’s beloved characters in her favorite books.

But she knew nothing about what would happen with the farm.

“If you agree, Jeremiah,” Kitty went on, “I’ll share the contract with my agency’s lawyer. I’d like him to review it and give us advice to aid us in bringing the contract to a closing.” She sighed. “To be honest, this won’t be quick. Obtaining an agreement from seven people will take time, and we can’t be certain of the outcome.”

“Is there another farm for sale in the area?” Jeremiah asked.