“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the lawyer replied, “but I have some very bad news.”
Riley’s stomach turned over. What could have gone wrong now?
McGrath was continuing. “Your uncle made a second will. You may remember that the first was dated April 12, 1976. This one was signed and witnessed on September 10, 1977. I’m afraid the house was left to someone else. In fact, you’re not even mentioned.”
Riley almost choked. This was a nightmare. It couldn’t possibly be real. She turned to Paul. He must have noticed her distress.
“Riley, are you there?” said the lawyer.
“I’m sorry, Mr. McGrath. It’s…it’s such a shock.”
“I know, my dear. I came to the office specially as I’m in court all day tomorrow. If you’d like to come in right now, I’ll give you the details.”
“Yes. And thanks. Um…is half an hour okay?”
“Fine. Just ring the bell and I’ll let you in.”
Riley put the receiver back on its cradle in slow motion, then turned to Paul and collapsed in his arms, sobbing beyond control.
“Hey, Riley-girl, what did he say? It must be pretty bad.”
“It bloody well is!” she cried. “The house isn’t ours after all! Uncle Richard made another will and left it to…to someone else.”
She felt Paul tense as his arms tightened around her.
“That means we’ll have to leave,” he said.
“I guess so.” Riley turned away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He asked us to go to the office at once.”
“Come on, then. I’ll drive. I’m anxious to hear what he says and it had better be good.”
When Riley rang the bell at offices of Corcoran, Corcoran and McGrath, her lawyer opened the door at once. He must have been waiting in the anteroom, which was normally occupied by the receptionist.
“Come in,” he said. “Believe me, I find this very upsetting. These things happen from time to time but in most cases it involves someone’s antique teapot or Aunt Fanny’s wedding ring, not a house on nineteen acres.”
McGrath showed them into his office, where he had set two chairs in front of the desk. As soon as they were settled, he continued. “On Friday afternoon at around four o’clock, I had a call from Mike McLaughlin of Hunt and McLaughlin in Grand Falls. He told me that on the previous Wednesday, a will had been found in a bank safety deposit box regarding the estate of Thomas F. Gibson. As a matter of course, he contacted an officer of the Probate Court here in St. John’s. He was told that a will dated September 12, 1976 had already been executed by us. This means, in essence, that the Probate Court will cancel your inheritance, assuming that all is as it should be regarding the second will.”
“Who gets the house?” asked Riley.
“A woman by the name of Lisa Mary Dillon. I’ve no idea who she is and know nothing of the circumstances behind the bequest. Mr. McLaughlin said it was too long and involved to explain on the phone, but he had already mailed photocopies of the paperwork plus his summary of an interview with Ms. Dillon. They should be here on Tuesday morning. While this may be of some interest, it doesn’t alter the facts. From what McLaughlin said, and I have to agree with him, the property will revert to Ms. Dillon and you will be ordered to leave.”
Riley put her head in her hands. “When?”
“Let me see now, it’s the first of October today—my guess is sometime in November or early December. The case will likely go before the Probate Court in about a month.”
“And we end up with nothing?”
“I’m sorry.” McGrath stood. “I wish we could do something, but my hunch is there will be no grounds to contest the will; we’ll be able to confirm that on Tuesday. The mail gets here as soon as we open, so I’ve made an appointment to see you again at ten. I’ll call you before nine-thirty if the package hasn’t arrived.”
“Thank you,” said Paul. “And it was good of you to come in on a Sunday.”
“That’s the least I can do. I’ve just realized there’s a consequence to this. The conveyance you signed for co-ownership of the property is no longer valid, of course. I’ll find out how much you paid and refund the full amount.”
Riley looked up and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “You’re very kind, Mr. McGrath.”
“Not at all. And try not to take it too hard. I know it must be a dreadful disappointment but look on the bright side. If the new will had been found earlier, Riley, you wouldn’t have come to Newfoundland and you wouldn’t have met Paul.”
Riley sat in silence all the way home, her mind numb and incapable of rational thought. It wasn’t until she got out of the car and stood looking up at the house that the enormity of the situation hit her. All the euphoria and hope for the future that had built up since the robbery had gone in the snap of a finger. But Mr. McGrath was right. Paul was infinitely more important than what she’d lost.
Riley sensed he was standing behind her.
“Let’s get out of the wind,” he said. “We’ll talk this through and salvage what we can.”
Riley said nothing but put a hand to his cheek and kissed him.
They went indoors and tried to get comfortable on the settee, but without success. Riley thought that this new turn of events had brought with it a total inability to relax, even in each other’s arms.
For a while the conversation was without focus, then Paul said, “It all comes down to money, my love. And until we have some numbers, we can’t decide what to do. Let’s get our bank statements and see how much there is.”
They migrated to the dining table with ballpoints, paper and a calculator. It didn’t take long to work everything out. There wasn’t much in the way of assets. Riley had next to nothing while Paul had a small sum in reserve. Most of his savings had gone into the Mustang and two previous cars. On the plus side, there was his severance package and the income from his unemployment insurance. On the other hand, if they rented an apartment, there would be little left for food and other necessities. St. John’s wasn’t the cheapest place to live by any means.
“Accommodation is the real problem,” said Paul, clasping his hands behind his head. “Apartments are so—”
“Wait a minute!” Riley interrupted. “When you said ‘apartments’ it made me think of something. Joni’s left the old place in Toronto and moved in with Trevor. It’s empty and paid for until God knows when! We could live there forever—well, almost.”
Paul looked at her. “But you don’t really want to leave here, do you?”
“No! Definitely not! But there isn’t any choice. I was looking forward to living here with you. It’s a lovely place.”
“I’ll miss it too. Even so, Toronto seems quite attractive. To be quite honest, as long as we’re together I don’t much care. Besides, I might get a job at the airport. They are building a larger weather office, I believe.”
“And I’ll finish my degree and get a job too.”
“Riley, you’re an angel. You’ve saved the day. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll manage.”
“I’ll have to tell my parents, and soon,” said Riley. “But I’m not saying anything about the robbery. Losing the house is quite enough for them to swallow in one go.”
When Paul left for work on Monday morning, Riley felt lonely, so she called Jean on the off chance that her friend was free. She got the answering machine instead. Then she inspected the fridge. A few things were running short, but not enough to warrant a trip to the supermarket. Doris would have what she needed, and in any case she felt like a walk. Riley hadn’t slept too well the night before, but the fresh northwesterly breeze was brisk enough to clear her head. Then, surprise, surprise, when she rounded the corner at the store, there was Jean’s Pinto. She patted the hood as she walked past. The cheerful tinkle of the doorbell was somehow reassuring when she went inside.
“Hi, Doris! Hi, Jean, I just called your house. Are you on your way to work?”
“Via my parents’ place,” Je
an replied.
“Then you’ve got time to hear the bad news.”
“Bad news?” Doris queried. “Sounds serious.”
“I’ve lost the house,” said Riley flatly. “We’re moving to Toronto.”
“Lost the ‘ouse! What are you talkin’ about?”
“My uncle made another will. He left everything to someone else. I get nothing.”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Doris. “Isn’t that somethin’ terrible?”
“Good grief!” cried Jean. “What’s going to happen next?” She squeezed Riley’s hand. “This really is miserable. I can’t think of anything worse after all you’ve been through. But why Toronto? Can’t you stay here?”
“With Paul getting laid off, we don’t have enough for an apartment.”
“Laid off?” Jean shook her head. “That’s a new one on me. It’s just too much!”
Doris raised her hands in despair. “One bad t’ing after another, ain’t it?”
“I guess with the robbery and everything we forgot to tell you.”
“When does he stop work?” Jean asked.
“Friday the thirteenth, appropriately enough. We’ll leave soon after that. The place where I used to live is empty. My parents prepaid the rent for a couple of years so we can stay there. If Paul hadn’t lost his job, it would have been different. I’m very attached to Newfoundland.”
“I have to go now.” Jean put a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “Come ‘round as soon as you can, both of you.”
“Thanks,” said Riley. “We will.”
As Jean closed the door behind her, Riley turned to Doris. “I’m going to miss you all so much. I don’t want to leave one bit.”
“We’ll miss you too. But you never knows, it’s a while before you leaves. Somethin’ might ‘appen to change your minds.”
“We should be so lucky.”
As Riley walked back to the house—it wasn’t home any more—she began to feel a little better. The good-byes would only be au revoirs since she and Paul would visit his parents from time to time and Jean could come to Toronto. As she emerged from the wooded path to the house, her eyes lit on the Toyota. It would have to be returned to Charlie. She would need it for a while, but she ought to warn him. Best do it right now.
On Tuesday morning, Riley awoke refreshed after a good night’s sleep, for a change. She clung to Paul like a limpet when the alarm went off. While she gathered strength from the smooth firmness of his naked body, a good morning kiss sent shivers down her spine, arousing her so much that she wanted him then and there. Too bad it would have to wait. She dragged herself out of bed, conscious of Paul watching her every move.
“We’ll have to consecrate my bed in Toronto,” she said with a smile. “Did I tell you that whenever we make love I think of that holy place by the meadow? I will never forget how the dragonfly god landed on my breast, then watched us from above.”
“The sight of you almost blew my mind,” Paul replied. “I might even take an art course, just so I can paint a picture.”
Riley put on her housecoat. “You’re crazy, you know that? But I love you all the more. Let’s eat. Mr. McGrath doesn’t like to be kept waiting. As a matter of fact, it’s a good thing your boss gave you time off. I’ve become very dependent on you, sweetie, and I worry in case I forget to ask something important.”
Paul got out of bed, opened Riley’s housecoat and held her against him. “That’s how it’s meant to be, Riley-girl. And it cuts both ways. It’s the same for me.”
“I hope you’re feeling a little better,” said McGrath as he showed them into his office.
“‘Little’ is the operative word,” Paul replied.
“At any rate, I’ve a fair amount of material for you. But first the letter from Mike McLaughlin.”
McGrath picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Riley.
“Here’s a copy, but I’ll summarize it for you now in case anything needs explaining. When McLaughlin asked Ms. Dillon about her relationship with your uncle, she said they were very close. It seems that Mr. Gibson had been traveling to Grand Falls about twice a month for the last year and a half. She had no idea he’d left her anything in his will, let alone the house. Reading between the lines, it sounds to me like a purely sexual affair, perhaps with money involved, if you see what I mean. To continue, his final visit was on April 4 when your uncle was obviously quite ill. He said that his doctor was going to get some tests done at the Health Sciences Centre. That was the last time Ms. Dillon spoke to him. From then on, no one answered the phone. She called the Health Sciences Centre, but he wasn’t there. Then she asked a friend in town to investigate. He found out from Doris that Mr. Gibson had died.”
“Does the letter say anything about the key to the safety deposit box?” Paul asked.
“Most certainly. Ms. Dillon explained that it had been found under the bathroom hot air register when the ducts were being cleaned. This has been verified by the firm who did the work. Without realizing what kind of key it was, she put it on the mantle and forgot about it. Sometime later, when her brother visited, he noticed it and said that his deposit box at a local bank had a similar one. Ms. Dillon had no idea who it belonged to, so she went to the bank and opened the box.”
“It sounds quite plausible,” said Riley.
“Maybe too plausible,” the lawyer replied. “But we can’t do much about that.”
“Is there any point in contesting the will?” asked Paul.
“None whatsoever, I’m afraid. The clause that cancels all previous wills stands out like a sore thumb. On the other hand, when a person is disinherited after the execution of a previous will, it’s sometimes possible to negotiate an out-of-court settlement for things like expenses. In other words, it’s unlikely that you’ll have to give back the money you’ve already spent. Also, I may be able to wangle a thousand or so to cover your move back to Toronto. I don’t know Mike McLaughlin personally, but he sounds a reasonable guy. Hopefully, he can persuade Ms. Dillon to do the right thing.”
“That’s something,” said Riley. “I have another question. Supposing I had sold the house earlier, would I have been able to keep the money?”
“That could have been nasty. One way or another you would have been ordered to give the proceeds from the sale to Ms. Dillon. But let’s move on to practical matters. Like I said on Sunday, you won’t have to vacate the property just yet. The Probate Court will declare a date, which we may be able to negotiate in advance. If you don’t mind my asking, what are your plans?”
“We’re going to Toronto,” Riley replied. “My old apartment’s paid up for a couple of years and we can live there for free. Incidentally, what with one thing and another we forgot to tell you that Paul’s been laid off.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said the lawyer. “Did they give a reason?”
“Staff cutbacks due to automation,” Paul answered. “I’m hoping there’ll be an opening at Toronto airport in the not-too-distant future.”
Riley stared out of the window. “Paul, do you mind if we leave as soon as possible? It’s not much fun hanging around here. We haven’t discussed how to travel, but driving would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“Definitely. And the sooner we go the better before the weather turns bad.”
“Let me know when you decide,” said McGrath. “Now, if there’s nothing else at the moment, here are all the papers.” He pushed a manila folder across his desk. “Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything else you want to know.”
Riley and Paul stood.
“Will we see you again, Mr. McGrath?” Riley asked.
“I sincerely hope so, if only to say good-bye. However, I’m sure something else will turn up.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Last Week
By Friday morning, Riley was feeling a little better. Only one more week and it would be Paul’s last day at work. She was secretly looking forward to it. Being without him for so much of the time didn’t suit he
r at all. At first, the newness of life in her very own house in an alien environment had seemed enough, but now things were different, very different.
There was always some excuse to go and see Doris, and since morning was her least busy time, Riley set out for the store in a buffeting half gale.
As usual, Doris was behind the counter. “Oh my goodness! You looks like you’ve been out on the bay in a storm.”
“It’s hard to stand up,” said Riley. “But this is Newfoundland, isn’t it?”
Doris’s expression turned serious. “‘Ave you decided when you’re leavin’?”
“About the twenty-second of this month. We’re going to drive—in the Mustang, of course. There’s a ferry from Port aux Basques on the twenty-fourth. The journey will make a nice change. By the way, have you heard of someone called Lisa Dillon? She’s the beneficiary in the new will.”
“Lisa Dillon…don’t know no one by that name. Does she live around ‘ere?”
“No. In Grand Falls. Apparently my uncle was having an affair with her.”
“What about the woman who used to visit twice a week before he died? Could they be the same person?”
“I don’t think so. It’s too far to drive from Grand Falls as often as that.”
“‘Ow about a happle,” said Doris, pointing to a basket on the counter. “Comes off the tree in my chicken run, they do. Must be them ‘ens makes ‘em so tasty.”
Riley took one and bit into it. “Mmm,” she said with her mouth full. “You’re right about being tasty. And I’m going miss your eggs as well. City ones don’t have any flavor.”
“‘Ere, I’ve ‘ad a thought. Per’aps Mr. Gibson left some old photos or even an album. The woman I saw might be in it. People often writes names on the back, then you’d find out who she is.”
Riley was beginning to wonder where this conversation was going, when it dawned on her for the first time that there were none of Uncle Richard’s personal belongings in the house. On the other hand, the place had been rented since his death. Maybe Mr. McGrath put that kind of stuff into storage.
She Came From Away Page 22