me."
"For the same reason you insist on rebuffing me. Being pigheaded is a family trait."
"I'll give you that. It still pisses me off that Grand thinks she could treat my parents like shit and then waltz in years later and make it all evaporate."
"What's that got to do with us? Pam and Liza and I didn't do anything to your parents or Aunt Gin. Why should we be held accountable for Grand? Yes, she behaved badly. Yes, she's a bitch, but so what? Maybe your mother and Aunt Gin delivered tit-for-tat. At the time your parents died, we were only kids. We didn't know what was going on and neither did you. It seems ridiculous to nurse such bad feelings. To what end? We're family. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."
"So far, I've done very well without 'family.' So why can't you drop the subject and get on with life?"
"Why can't you?" She paused, trying to gain control of herself.
"I'm sorry. Let's try again. I don't understand why every time I call we get into these wrangles."
"We don't get into wrangles every time."
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't!"
"Name one conversation when we didn't come to blows."
"I can name three. You hired me for a job. We had lunch together that day and we got along fine. Since then, we've chatted on the phone two or three times without bickering."
"That's true," she said, reluctantly, "but I'm always aware of the anger percolating just under the surface."
"So what? Look, Tasha, maybe in time we'll find a way to settle our differences. Until then, we're not going to get anywhere arguing about whether or not we're arguing. I don't claim to be rational. I'm nuts. Why don't you let it go at that?"
"Okay. Enough said. We just wanted you to know we're still interested. We hoped yesterday's visit to the ranch would provide an opening."
"Ah, that. How'd you find out?"
"Arne Johanson called Pam. He said he saw someone who looked so much like your mother, it gave him goose bumps. I was surprised you'd even step a foot on the family ranch."
"I wouldn't have if I'd known."
"Oh, I'll bet."
"That aside, I do recognize what it costs you to keep in touch. I don't mean to be quite so belligerent."
"No apologies necessary."
"Uh, Tasha? That wasn't an apology."
"Skip it. I got that. My mistake," she said. "The point is, I'm a lawyer. I deal with belligerence on a daily basis."
"I thought you did estate planning. How could anyone get belligerent about that, it sounds so dull?"
"Shows what you know. Anytime you talk money, there's the potential for folks to get nasty. Nobody wants to talk about dying and nobody wants to give up control of the family purse. When it comes to the beneficiaries, there's usually an undercurrent of entitlement," she said, and then hesitated. "On a related topic, you probably heard there's talk of razing the Manse."
"The 'Manse'? Is that what it's called? I thought a manse had something to do with Presbyterians."
"It does. Our great-great-grandfather Straith was a Presbyterian minister. In those days, the Church didn't have the money to build a parsonage so he paid for it himself. I think he intended to deed it over to the Church when he died, but cooler heads prevailed. At any rate, the house is a mess. It'd be cheaper, at this point, to tear it down."
"I take it Grand doesn't want to spend the money to bring the old place back."
"Right. She's tried to enlist the support of a couple of historic-preservation groups, but no one's interested. The location's remote and the house itself is a hybrid. Turns out it's not even a good example of its kind."
"Why not leave it as it is? It's her land, isn't it?"
"It's hers for now, but she's ninety years old and she knows none of her heirs has the money or the passion for undertaking the job. Besides, she's got another house in town. She hardly needs two."
"That's right. I remember now. Liza told me most of the family live within blocks of her."
"We're a cozy bunch," she said, dryly. "Meanwhile, she's got all kinds of
"For the same reason you insist on rebuffing me. Being pigheaded is a family trait."
"I'll give you that. It still pisses me off that Grand thinks she could treat my parents like shit and then waltz in years later and make it all evaporate."
"What's that got to do with us? Pam and Liza and I didn't do anything to your parents or Aunt Gin. Why should we be held accountable for Grand? Yes, she behaved badly. Yes, she's a bitch, but so what? Maybe your mother and Aunt Gin delivered tit-for-tat. At the time your parents died, we were only kids. We didn't know what was going on and neither did you. It seems ridiculous to nurse such bad feelings. To what end? We're family. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."
"So far, I've done very well without 'family.' So why can't you drop the subject and get on with life?"
"Why can't you?" She paused, trying to gain control of herself.
"I'm sorry. Let's try again. I don't understand why every time I call we get into these wrangles."
"We don't get into wrangles every time."
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't!"
"Name one conversation when we didn't come to blows."
"I can name three. You hired me for a job. We had lunch together that day and we got along fine. Since then, we've chatted on the phone two or three times without bickering."
"That's true," she said, reluctantly, "but I'm always aware of the anger percolating just under the surface."
"So what? Look, Tasha, maybe in time we'll find a way to settle our differences. Until then, we're not going to get anywhere arguing about whether or not we're arguing. I don't claim to be rational. I'm nuts. Why don't you let it go at that?"
"Okay. Enough said. We just wanted you to know we're still interested. We hoped yesterday's visit to the ranch would provide an opening."
"Ah, that. How'd you find out?"
"Arne Johanson called Pam. He said he saw someone who looked so much like your mother, it gave him goose bumps. I was surprised you'd even step a foot on the family ranch."
"I wouldn't have if I'd known."
"Oh, I'll bet."
"That aside, I do recognize what it costs you to keep in touch. I don't mean to be quite so belligerent."
"No apologies necessary."
"Uh, Tasha? That wasn't an apology."
"Skip it. I got that. My mistake," she said. "The point is, I'm a lawyer. I deal with belligerence on a daily basis."
"I thought you did estate planning. How could anyone get belligerent about that, it sounds so dull?"
"Shows what you know. Anytime you talk money, there's the potential for folks to get nasty. Nobody wants to talk about dying and nobody wants to give up control of the family purse. When it comes to the beneficiaries, there's usually an undercurrent of entitlement," she said, and then hesitated. "On a related topic, you probably heard there's talk of razing the Manse."
"The 'Manse'? Is that what it's called? I thought a manse had something to do with Presbyterians."
"It does. Our great-great-grandfather Straith was a Presbyterian minister. In those days, the Church didn't have the money to build a parsonage so he paid for it himself. I think he intended to deed it over to the Church when he died, but cooler heads prevailed. At any rate, the house is a mess. It'd be cheaper, at this point, to tear it down."
"I take it Grand doesn't want to spend the money to bring the old place back."
"Right. She's tried to enlist the support of a couple of historic-preservation groups, but no one's interested. The location's remote and the house itself is a hybrid. Turns out it's not even a good example of its kind."
"Why not leave it as it is? It's her land, isn't it?"
"It's hers for now, but she's ninety years old and she knows none of her heirs has the money or the passion for undertaking the job. Besides, she's got another house in town. She hardly needs two."
"That's right. I remember now. Liza told me most of the family live within blocks of her."
"We're a cozy bunch," she said, dryly. "Meanwhile, she's got all kinds of
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