Arthur Nelson Protected His Wyoming Mountain Cabin with a Trust
“It is not a gift,” Edwin said, his eyes steady on mine. “It is an investment in a quiet neighbor. I do not want Cornelius living twelve miles down the road from me any more than you do.”
“I have enough in my secondary savings,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “But I appreciate the offer more than I can say.”
“That son-in-law of yours is a parasite, Arthur,” Edwin said, putting the toothpick back in his mouth. “I saw him walking around the edge of your clearing yesterday while you were in town. He was looking at the joists under the porch like he was estimating the square footage.”
“He thinks he is going to own it,” I said.
“Make sure he doesn’t,” Edwin said. “A man who doesn’t respect another man’s foundation is a dangerous tenant.”
I nodded, the truth of his words sitting heavy in my chest. “I am heading to the bank now.”
“Keep your head down,” Edwin said. “The wind is shifting.”
