Then drove to see Marcus, the attorney who had handled part of Sarah’s estate.

His office stood on Market Avenue.

Wire-rimmed glasses rested on his nose, and his desk was covered with neat stacks of folders.

He listened while I described Oliver’s questions, Eleanor’s proposed prenuptial changes, and the bank inquiry.

He didn’t interrupt.

When I finished, he opened the binder.

“Sharon, first, your sister’s trust has an independent trustee and beneficiary restrictions.

Marriage wouldn’t automatically give Oliver control of that money.”

I felt some relief.

“And the house?”