He folded his hands together.
“Because equal shares mean all three of you must agree on what to do with it. You can sell it and divide the proceeds. One sibling can buy out the others. You can rent it and split the income. But none of those options can proceed without consensus.”
“And if we can’t agree?”
“Then eventually a court can compel a partition sale,” he said. “But that process is slow, expensive, and tends to produce outcomes nobody finds satisfying.”
I looked back at the folder.
“Do Derek and Amber know about this structure?” I asked.
“They have been notified of the basic terms,” he replied. “I believe they may be calling you.”
Driving home that October afternoon, I kept glancing at the folder on the passenger seat, feeling the weight of responsibility settle deeper with every mile.
Derek called before I reached my apartment.
His voice was careful and sympathetic. He offered his condolences, asked how I was doing, then gradually shifted toward the estate. He said the process seemed straightforward and that he hoped we’d work through everything together.
Then he suggested we sell the house as quickly as possible.
