Unspoken

by Dee Henderson

  Charlotte was having scrambled eggs, bacon, coffee, and reading his paper.

  “Good morning.” Bryce tousled her still-damp hair as he passed and fixed himself a matching plate.

  “I made the coffee too strong, so you might want to dilute it down before it crosses your eyes,” Charlotte cautioned, “or better yet, throw it out and make new.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He took a sip and decided it wouldn’t kill him.

  “Ellie is coming over about ten to talk about the financial details, although I can push that back if you would prefer later in the day.”

  “Ten is fine.” He settled in to enjoy breakfast. He offered her half his toast and slid over the strawberry jelly.

  He read the paper with her, passing back and forth sections, while he ate. “Where do you normally start reading the paper?”

  “The comics.”

  He lowered the page he held. “Really?”

  “The rest is typically bad news.”

  “I see your point.” He finished the sports section. “I’m going to attempt teriyaki chicken for dinner tonight unless you have a different preference.”

  “I’ve heard it’s a favorite of yours. You know, I could probably do some of the cooking.”

  “Do you like to cook?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Then when you’re in the mood, the kitchen is yours. But otherwise, assume I’ll handle dinner. I rather enjoy cooking for you. I also know nearly every restaurant in the city that delivers.”

  “I like that idea. Grabbing a sandwich to eat at the desk works fine for lunch if my work is going well.”

  “I’m the same, and I’m not one to quibble if we eat dinner at six p.m. or ten p.m.” He set aside the paper, content he’d seen the highlights. He glanced at the time. He’d normally be leaving for Bishop Chicago right now, in a suit, his briefcase packed. It felt odd to simply be sitting here in jeans and a T-shirt. He got up to get the coffee. “More?”

  “Please.”

  He refilled hers, and she wrapped both hands around the mug. “Most mornings I’d go watch the dogs run around, or sketch the sunrise, or toss stuff in the truck and go to work. I didn’t sit. I was only reading the paper today because it was there on the front step.”

  He smiled. “I was thinking something similar. I don’t think breakfast is going to be our favorite meal.” He stirred sugar into his coffee to get the extra kick. “You’ve been finished with Graham Enterprises for . . . what, about a week? Responsibility levels have drastically dropped. In about ten days you’re going to be wondering why you didn’t stop work months ago. But the transition is no doubt going to feel like a crash.”

  She finished the last bite of toast, reached for a napkin. “It already does. You’re going to eventually feel it too with Bishop Chicago off your daily schedule.”

  “I’m feeling it. I miss the suit and tie, the cuff links, the briefcase. The business of it.”

  She rested her chin on her hand. “I like you in a suit and tie. And you’re still going to the office, the commute is just measured in feet, not miles.”

  “I should go change?”

  She smiled. “Why not? You’ll feel more like yourself.” She pushed back her chair. “I’m going to go tackle the studio, get the supplies in the perfect place, get the right location for the drafting board figured out, put together my idea board, think some about starting an ambitious sketch.” She picked up her breakfast dishes and carried them into the kitchen.

  He brought his plates to the dishwasher. “What’s an ambitious sketch?”

  “Something that takes a few hundred hours to draw, with layers of color, and intricately shaded figures. Think of drawing a horse and cowboy in the middle of a rodeo, or drawing a plane full of people, or trying to capture New York looking out a high-rise window during a rainstorm.”

  “You’ll start work on an ambitious sketch so you won’t be bored, so you’ll remember why you chose art over keeping Graham Enterprises.”

  She rested her hand on his arm. “You’re a smart man, Bryce Bishop.”

  “I am.” He leaned forward and softly kissed her cheek. “Go to work, Mrs. Bishop.”

  She grinned. “Yeah.” She selected an apple out of the fruit bowl and went through to her new studio. He heard her push open the French doors to the outdoors and smiled, glad she’d have sunshine and outdoors as part of her new studio. He considered for a moment, then went upstairs to change into a suit and tie. She was right. He liked looking like the businessman he was.

  Bryce answered the back door when the doorbell rang at ten a.m. “Come on in, Ellie. Charlotte’s in her studio tacking up photos on a corkboard.”

  Ellie set the box she carried on the kitchen table. “She’s working on her idea board? Already?”

  “She was bored.”

  Ellie thought about that for a moment, and laughed. “I actually believe that.”

  Bryce tipped his head to indicate the studio, and Ellie walked through to the sunroom to see what was going on.

  Bryce finished fixing new coffee, remembered Ellie preferred a vanilla-flavored coffee with a touch of cream. Laughter from the studio made him pause. It was a wonderful sound. Charlotte didn’t laugh nearly enough.

  Charlotte came into the kitchen with Ellie. “I’ve recruited Ellie to help me choose a theme for this ambitious sketch. It has to be something that when you hear the word or phrase, you think perfect.”

  He handed them both coffee mugs. “Tell me about others you’ve done.”

  “The Moon was incredible. That one took you several weeks,” Ellie offered.

  Charlotte tugged out a chair at the table. “It was the most ambitious black-and-white drawing I’ve ever attempted. I like School of Fish for what it represented, the coral was beautiful. But technically it was pretty boring.”

  “Lava Flows from Hawaii still gets the most serious raves from viewers.”

  “That one I am rather proud of. Fire is hard to get right. And the shades of color in molten rock—that was sophisticated shading.”

  “So you’re looking for a place,” Bryce said, joining them at the table.

  “Not necessarily. Just something that is bold when looked at in detail.”

  “Snowflakes.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “White is nearly impossible to draw well. The paper is the white, and you’re drawing the place that is not your subject. It makes my eyes go batty.”

  Bryce ran back through his memory for conversations lately with people who traveled, looking for an emotional connection to a subject. “The Great Plains, as seen from the air,” he offered. “Ann describes that as her favorite vista. The patchwork of fields and rivers and pastures that stretch for miles against a skyline that also stretches without interruption.”

  Ellie stopped unpacking her box and looked at Charlotte. “Yes.”

  Charlotte looked back at Bryce. “Does she have pictures?”

  “Pictures, video. She’ll take you up for a firsthand view from the air if you like.”

  “Still photos are better for seeing what it could be as two dimensions. That’s worth a call to Ann, and a look at some pictures.”

  “It could work,” Ellie agreed.

  Bryce picked up his coffee. “Now that I’ve given you that one, let me change my mind and give you another one. Glacier. Ice melting from a glacier and pouring down the crevices to the sea. The cold, blue shades of thick ice against the vivid blue of the ocean and the bright blue of a sunny sky . . .”

  Charlotte started to smile as he gave his description. “One color pallet and scale. A really good idea. Cold is something fascinating to capture on paper, and technically little of it would actually be white.” She looked to Ellie.

  “Scaling it would be a challenge. You want the hardness of hundred-year-old ice, the grandeur of it. But pulling back from the surface to show you the size of the glacier costs you the details.”

  “It’s worth some layouts. Two good ideas in tw
enty minutes. Very nice, Bryce.” Charlotte was writing both down. “I’ll develop a bunch of options for these and see what else we can come up with in the next few days.” She looked over and caught his gaze. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He smiled, understanding why work mattered like it did to her. “I’m good for ideas. Just don’t ask me to draw them.”

  She held his gaze, nodded to Ellie, and he caught the signal. Charlotte would like not to be leading this next conversation.

  “Ellie, Charlotte said you’re better at explaining the financial details than she is, so I appreciate you coming over. What did you bring?” Bryce asked.

  Ellie shifted to business mode. “Bryce, you need to know about four things to understand Charlotte’s financial world. I’m going to give you the overview. The details you can take up with Fred’s lawyer on Monday morning.”

  “That works for me.”

  “Start with the big and work to the small, Ellie,” Charlotte suggested.

  “All right.” Ellie changed the order of the files in her hand. “First, the Legacy Trust.” She opened the top folder. “Here’s what the lawyer and I have been able to come up with.”

  Charlotte reached over and laid her hand on Ellie’s. “I haven’t heard any of this yet, Bryce—she’s been saving it for a surprise, but I can tell you from experience this is going to be good.” She looked at her friend. “So thanks in advance.”

  Ellie smiled back at her. “I hope you’ll like what we came up with. Take a breath, Charlotte, there’s no need to be so nervous.”

  “So says the lady who doesn’t have her name on the money right now.” But Charlotte smiled and complied.

  Ellie looked at Bryce. “Give her a few months, she’ll get used to this.”

  “Oh, I understand what she’s feeling,” Bryce replied, sharing a glance with Charlotte. His own nerves were rippling.

  Ellie smiled. “I like the fact you’re both skittish right now, but let me relieve some of the stress. Charlotte said she wanted simple. So this is for you.” She handed Bryce a checkbook.

  “Any check you write will clear. You could write a check for two billion today and it would clear. The checkbook basically—actually is—a line of credit with the trust holdings as the collateral. Your signature on a check—or Charlotte’s—is sufficient. Both your signature cards went on file with the bank this morning, so you can start using the checkbook today.

  “The Legacy Trust owns shares in thirty-five companies, the most sizable positions being in the Saylor Chemical descendent stocks.” She handed him a page with the list and the number of shares owned. “Any income earned by the trust—dividends, interest—is used to buy more of the same stocks. When there’s a check to be cleared or a tax bill to pay, shares are sold. The Graham lawyer will handle those transactions. At the end of each month, you will get checking account and trust statements, showing the checks paid, the stock transactions, and the current trust holdings.

  “The trust address—where all dividend checks, tax statements, and so forth, are sent—is presently the law firm. They will continue as administrator, generate the estimated tax filings, the annual tax return, et cetera. If you want to take over management of the trust, the majority of the shares reside in certificate form in a vault, with a working number of the shares kept in a brokerage account for convenience.

  “There are no restrictions on the trust. You may use the money in any way you wish, buy or sell anything you wish. The current arrangement is simply one of many stable configurations.” She handed him a brokerage printout from that morning. “Earned dividends have been buying more shares this last year. The current balance of the trust is nine billion, thirty-four million.” Ellie closed the folder. “And that’s it. That’s the Legacy Trust.”

  Bryce looked at the checkbook he held, the page listing the holdings, then back at Ellie. He wanted to hug the woman for the job she had done. He settled for a chuckle. “I see your handiwork in the simplicity of it.”

  Ellie smiled. “I tried. You can put your focus on what to do with the money, where to give it, and let the lawyer handle the trust transactions. The firm is paid a yearly fee plus a nominal rate per hour for their services rather than a percent of the trust. For lawyers, their fees are actually quite reasonable and have been set for the next ten years if you wish to continue with this firm. The fact that they administer a trust of this size drives down brokerage costs for their other clients, so they keep this business relationship at close to their actual costs.”

  “A nice deal for us,” Bryce said.

  “Fred was thinking ahead. I’ve brought you a few boxes of the checks, including some you can feed through your printer. If you wish to make electronic transfers from the checking account, the phone number of the lady who will handle them for you is on the account summary. She’ll set up onetime or repeating transfers and monitor that they’re successfully made as scheduled.”

  “We’re not going to have many questions to talk about with the lawyer. This is really nice, Ellie. I admire the simplicity of it.”

  “It’s what I do well. But you will have questions. I have business cards for you with direct numbers—both office and home—for everyone involved with the trust, and I’ve noted their roles.”

  Charlotte shook her head when Bryce offered her the checkbook. “You keep it. I don’t want to even hold that checkbook.”

  He placed it in front of him and glanced at it from time to time. Any check he decided to write would clear. His nerves were settling down, but the reality of it began to take serious substance. He looked at Ellie. “You said you had four things, Ellie. What else have you brought us?”

  Ellie shifted the folders in her hand. “Separate from the Legacy Trust is the Cleo Simm Trust. As Fred’s estate holdings were liquidated—Graham Enterprises, the coins, various minor ownership interests, and personal property—the money was placed in the Cleo Simm Trust. You’ve already been helping Charlotte give away those funds. I brought you more checks good for the printer, and this is for you.” Ellie handed him another checkbook.

  “Your signature is now good on this trust account too,” she told him. “In a pinch, John or I can also sign as trustees. I currently handle the tax matters for Cleo Simm, and will generate the estimated tax payments and annual tax return for you. You’re welcome to take over administration of it—”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you keeping that role,” Bryce suggested.

  Ellie smiled. “Sure, I can do that. The current balance of the Cleo Simm Trust is just over one hundred thirteen million. The funds in this trust sit in cash until they’re used, so you should consider giving from this account until the funds are down to, say, ten thousand, simply to keep the trust open for other possible uses over the years.”

  “Just a hundred thirteen million,” Bryce said with a glance to Charlotte, feeling oddly more off-balance at hearing that number than the Legacy Trust total in the billions. Had Charlotte said no, she would have been able to give away sixty million in gifts and still have walked away with a fortune. Her decision to say yes to marriage . . .

  Charlotte reached over and put her hand on his. “Breathe, Bryce. It’s just money.”

  He laughed. “True.” He held her gaze for a long moment. She’d married him not because of what she needed for herself—she’d been well set if she said no. She’d accepted the responsibility of what was entrusted to her and said yes because of what could be done with the money. He wasn’t going to let her down. He looked over at her friend. “Okay, what else, Ellie?”

  Ellie handed him the third folder. “Separate from the Legacy Trust and the Cleo Simm Trust, Charlotte has some personal property—the truck, some bank accounts—around two hundred ten thousand total. I pulled together the paperwork necessary to change the ownership titles from her name to joint ownership. You may find it simpler just to spend down the money and close the accounts rather than retitle items.”

  Bryce glanced at the document
s and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “The last piece we need to discuss concerns Charlotte’s art. It is owned by the CRM Trust. I’m presently listed as the administrator. It’s a management vehicle, rather than a financial one, and controls the copyright for the art after her death. There are no tax returns or other forms to file each year. The income from her art flows through the CRM Trust to her personal name. I suggest we update the trust so the funds flow through to an account in your joint names.” She offered Charlotte the paperwork to read and sign. “You’ll see the funds as direct deposits into the account as her artwork sells.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to retire in our lifetime,” Bryce mentioned to Ellie, reading the page and signing it after Charlotte.

  “I’m having too much fun to think of retiring,” Ellie replied with a smile at them both. “Okay, that’s the overview. I brought copies of the trust agreements for you, Bryce, copies of her last seven years of tax returns. And her passport is in the gray sleeve.” She offered the documents to him.

  “You haven’t left much for me to do.”

  “The goal was simplicity and stability. That I can manage. Giving the money away is your challenge.”

  “Now you see what a business meeting with Ellie is like,” Charlotte said. “I listen, follow her advice, and I’m glad she’s handling things.”

  Bryce nodded. “Ellie, this really is a remarkable piece of work.”

  “I’ve had three years to think about it. What you see as simple is the result of throwing out all the ideas that were complex until we figured out the definition of simple in Charlotte’s situation. It took some time to get down to this. I think it will do the job for you.”

  “It will.” Bryce opened the Legacy Trust checkbook, looked at the very neatly written amount in the front of the registry. She’d used the memo line to write out the full starting balance. He read the number and could feel the adrenaline kick in once more. “Would you like a job? When you’re not managing Charlotte’s and Marie’s art, being her best friend, remodeling a home, thinking about marrying John, and having your own life? I could really use your help in the office.”