lawyering

Finally talked to the lawyer.

His office was odd, cinderblock walls and a heavy metal door like a liquor store in a bad neighborhood, or Ed Gein's basement, interior paneled in spots and stocked with solid looking antique bric a brac with an emphasis on clocks and dusty mounted animal heads. Hang a red velvet curtain and add a dwarf receptionist and Kyle Mclaughlin would have felt right at home.

The good news is the house seems secure.
The trust trumps the lien. The geek in me pictures this as a bureaucratic Magic: The Gathering throwdown, the lawyer blocking the state's big attack with a superior card to much gnashing of teeth and ill tempered hurling of Cheetos.

The bad news is the trustee (your humble narrator) is on the hook for 25k worth of bequests made by his pauper benefactor, and of course the lawyer needs paying for this and that (This and That translates from the Legalese into I'll be needing several thousand dollars right quick).

As the estate has exactly zero liquid assets, it's to the bank I go.

My career in the antiquarian book trade was marvelous preparation for sifting the contents of her physical abode, but is less useful in these ethereal financial wranglings.

Although even a humble book dealer knows 30k is a laughable price for a nice pad by the ocean in the Golden State.