I sat in Arthur Benning’s office on Main Street in Lancaster, two blocks from the house I grew up in. I hadn’t been back to that town in nine years. I’d driven in through the back roads so I wouldn’t have to pass my parents’ street.
Arthur read the will out loud.
Margaret left most of her money to charity. Six million dollars to the Fairfield County Foundation, for job training and scholarships for the children of former Monroe Tool and Die workers. Two million to the Lancaster Public Library, where Caleb and I met.
She left me $250,000. In my own name. “For Evelyn, who never once asked me for anything.”
And then Arthur turned to the last page.
“To my great-granddaughter, Grace Margaret Monroe,” he read, “I leave my controlling interest in Monroe Savings Bank. Fifty-one percent of its outstanding shares. To be held in trust until her twenty-fifth birthday. I appoint her mother, Evelyn Hart, as trustee.”
I stared at him.
“Arthur, I’m a nurse. I don’t know anything about running a bank.”
“You won’t be running it,” he said gently. “The bank has a president and a board of directors. You’ll vote Grace’s shares at the annual meeting and make sure the bank is managed responsibly. I’ll help you. So will the trust officer.”
He slid a thick binder across the desk.
“Margaret asked me to give you this. It’s a list of the bank’s loans, as of the date of her death. She marked something on page forty-one. She asked me to make sure you saw it.”
I opened the binder to page forty-one.
It was a list of residential mortgages and home equity loans. Names. Addresses. Balances. Payment status.
Halfway down the page, Margaret had drawn a small circle in blue ink around one line.
Richard and Eleanor Hart. 418 Maple Avenue. Home equity line of credit. Original amount: $60,000. Current balance: $58,412. Status: 90 days delinquent. Notice of default issued.
In the margin, in her elegant handwriting, she’d written five words.
“Please be gentle with them.”
I sat there in Arthur’s office with that binder open in my lap and couldn’t stop shaking.
“How long?” I asked.
“They took out the line of credit four years ago,” Arthur said. “Your father had a heart attack. His Medicare didn’t cover all of it, and he had to retire early from his job at the auto parts warehouse. They used the house to pay the bills. They’ve been struggling to make the payments ever since. The bank sent them a formal notice of default in February.”
“And the bank’s next step?”
Arthur was quiet for a moment.
“Foreclosure proceedings in Fairfield County Common Pleas Court,” he said. “Unless they catch up. Or unless something changes.”
Lila Hart is a dedicated Digital Archivist and Research Specialist with a keen eye for preserving and curating meaningful content. At TheArchivists, she specializes in organizing and managing digital archives, ensuring that valuable stories and historical moments are accessible for generations to come.
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