By Tim Barkley. March 2016. The smartphone on the desk erupted in a coruscant display and intermittent insistent buzzing. The readout said “Mrs. Jones.” “Good afternoon, this is Tim,” intoned the lawyer. “How can I help you, Mrs. Jones?” There was a silence. “Hello,...
By Tim Barkley. October 2014. “Dad’s will leaves everything to me, but when I showed it to the bank they said I needed letters of something. Why can’t they just give me the money?” “Can’t I just go to the broker and cash in Mom’s account?...
