The Inheritance

by Michael Phillips

  In their telephone conversation that followed Jason’s brief letter of a week earlier, David had learned of the discovery of a third potential heir to Macgregor Tulloch’s estate. The whole village had been shocked by the news he had relayed that neither himself nor Hardy Tulloch was rightful heir to Macgregor Tulloch’s estate.

  A closer descendent to the Auld Tulloch had been located . . . in America. Suddenly from out of the past rose renewed speculation and gossip. The oldest villagers had not forgotten old Ernest’s eldest son who had gone to America. A multitude of stories erupted anew, not only about the long-lost son but bringing in their wake speculation about old Macgregor and his ill-fated Norwegian wife, whose body, the more sinister of the gossips insisted, still lay in the laird’s sealed study—murdered by Macgregor himself.

  The island had been in a tumult of expectation ever since. Much, however, still remained in doubt. David assured them that it was unknown whether the mysterious American would claim the inheritance in time. If not, the estate might yet go to the next heir in line. Who that next heir in line might be was not yet disclosed. The controversy erupted all over again: Would the next in line be David or Hardy?

  At last definite word had come. Jason had telephoned David at the Auld Hoose yesterday evening. He had stopped at the Whales Fin Inn on his way to mainland Shetland earlier that same morning. He told Keith, Evanna, and Audney that the family solicitor in Lerwick had called and that he was on his way to the city, at long last, to learn the final disposition of the estate.

  David had expected his day’s plans to remain between himself and the three Kerrs. He scarcely took note of several fishermen at a table across the pub, or the interest with which their ears perked up as he had spoken with Keith.

  As a result, Grizel Gordon got wind of it from her husband, Tevis, who heard from Noak Muir, who had himself overheard the conversation with Keith.

  At this point everything was hearsay. That fact, however, did not stop Grizel from theorizing as fast as her tongue could wag.

  Within five minutes she was talking Coira MacNeill’s ear off in the bakery. The inevitable wind of news quickly spread to David’s aunt Rinda Gunn. Within half an hour, as Grizel Gordon fairly flew about the village with her tongue on fire, everyone knew.

  By all calculations—figuring David to be three hours ferrying both ways and driving to and from Lerwick, accounting for at least an hour in the city—the soonest, said Rinda, that he could return would be on the two o’clock ferry. Two or three dozen watchers were therefore on hand as the small diesel craft chugged toward shore a little before the hour.

  But David was not to be seen.

  By three o’clock the crowd awaiting the ferry had doubled.

  Again they were disappointed.

  At four o’clock, the entire village was out. Eager watchers lined the streets and lanes of Whales Reef. Even before the ferry docked, word raced from the crowd at the landing into the village that David’s car was on board.

  The chief had returned!

  The watchers were quickly disappointed, however. David drove off the wooden dock, waved to the crowd, and continued up the hill to the church. Curious and anxious, they had no choice but to keep waiting.

  Twenty minutes later they saw David, his car still at the church, walking back down the hill. By then most of Whales Reef was congregated between the town square and the hotel.

  David made his way into the village. The throng drifted along with him. For as many as were out, it remained surprisingly quiet.

  David nodded to the villagers as he moved along the main street. The expression in his eyes, most said to themselves, did not bode well. Ever since the old laird’s death they had worried about the consequences of a Hardy Tulloch lairdship. All at once an alternative loomed on the horizon that was entirely unpredictable.

  Would an unknown American perhaps prove worse than Hardy? The truth in the old adage Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t suddenly cast Hardy in a new light.

  For Hardy’s part, ever since news of the American began spreading through the village he had prowled around like a roaring lion vowing to fight the thing in court. He blamed David for ruining his chances. His exact reasoning remained uncertain, for if that were the case, in so doing David had apparently spoiled his own chances as well.

  Whatever news David had for them, at least the wait was over. They would finally know. Would or would not the American accept the inheritance and become their new laird? That was the question on the minds of every man and woman in Whales Reef.

  65

  First Class and Pronto

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “Hey, darlin’, how you doing today?” boomed a loud voice in the line.

  The ticket agent adjusted her earpiece.

  “Just fine, sir. Where is it you’re interested in flying?”

  “Aberdeen.”

  “And flying from?”

  “D.C., darlin’ . . . Washington.”

  “And that would be Aberdeen, South Dakota?”

  “I’m in oil, all right!” exclaimed her customer. “I know there’s talk of drilling up north there, but take it from me, they ain’t going to find nothing. No, I ain’t headed to the Dakotas. My line of work is the real thing—Aberdeen, darlin’ . . . Scotland.”

  “And when would you be traveling, sir?”

  “Soon as I can. Right now. You gotta get me on something today. Got my own jet, but the engine’s in for its million-mile checkup. You know, lube and oil, check the tires. The FAA boys are sticklers for that sort of thing. Came up to D.C. commercial. Wasn’t planning nothin’ overseas. But something’s come up and I gotta get myself to Scotland.”

  “I don’t know that we will have anything available on such short notice . . . I will check for you.”

  “And first class, darlin’. Gotta be first class. Don’t care which airline, don’t care if you gotta route me outta New York or Jersey or Atlanta or wherever. Don’t care what it costs. I’m in D.C. now and I gotta get there any way I can. Like I say, first class and pronto!”

  “I’ll check all those possibilities. If you can just give me a minute . . .”

  The line was silent for a couple of minutes.

  “I don’t find anything at all today, sir,” said the agent at length.

  “Dang! Pardon my French, darlin’, I know you’re doing your best. What do you got then?”

  “There’s a red-eye out of D.C. to Atlanta tonight. Then tomorrow British Airways has an afternoon flight into Heathrow with one seat left in first class. You would then connect to a flight arriving to Aberdeen early in the afternoon. That would be the day after tomorrow.”

  “That’s the quickest you got?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then book it.”

  66

  Flurry of New Uncertainty

  WHALES REEF, SHETLAND ISLANDS

  David walked to the center of the square. Slowly the expectant and restless crowd closed in around him. Like a flock of geese descending onto an open field settling its feathers into silence, all murmuring ceased.

  A stone bench sat at the base of the square’s monument. David climbed up, stood on it, and glanced about. Every eye was upon him. He drew in a deep breath.

  “Our new laird is on the way,” he said.

  A noisy rustling of feathers flitted through the gathered flock.

  “On the way tae do what, David?” called out David’s uncle Fergus Gunn from near the front.

  More questions came firing at David in rapid succession.

  “Is he or isna he goin’ tae claim the inheritance?” asked David’s cousin Murdoc MacBean.

  “We heard he wasna keen on it,” chimed in Noak Muir.

  Gradually silence settled. “Our solicitor will meet with the heir,” David replied. “Papers must be signed before anything is official. But whatever happens we must make the best of it and prepare to welcome Macgregor Tulloch’s rightful heir.”

  A great hubbub
broke out.

  “I’ll no welcome him!” called out Tevis Gordon, whose wife beside him was more responsible than anyone for the size of the crowd.

  More shouts, loud comments, and angry discussion drowned out whatever else David might have had to say. A dozen men voiced their vigorous assent to Tevis’s sentiment.

  Slowly a smile came to David’s lips. He realized that he had neglected to reveal the most significant aspect of what he had learned in Lerwick. A few noticed his expression and quieted. David waited.

  “There is one further piece of information you should know,” he said. He paused and waited for complete silence. “Not only is our new laird an American, she is a woman.”

  “Oor new laird’s a lassie!” cried Keith Kerr.

  A furious protest exploded. If David had more to say, it was impossible now. Whether one or two of the women of the village might have been sufficiently modern in outlook to greet the news with rejoicing, their reaction could not have been discerned from the outcry against the news.

  “A woman canna inherit,” objected Tevis Gordon. “If they could, then wouldna Hardy’s claim hae been first in line fae the start on account o’ the Auld Tulloch’s daughter?”

  Voices all around chimed in their agreement. As traditionally minded as their husbands, women clamored just as loudly to be heard. The very idea of a woman inheriting the estate of Macgregor Tulloch was an outrage to the sensibilities of nearly everyone on the island.

  “It’s no mistake, Tevis,” said David. “This is the twenty-first century—even on the Shetlands. Women are equal to men these days. Women are working on the oil rigs too.”

  The discontented murmurings continued. David stood patiently while the islanders gave vent to their aggrieved sense of injustice. The idea of calling a woman “laird” was inconceivable to them.

  “Who is it, David?” shouted Rinda Gunn. “What right’s she got tae be inheritin’?”

  David waited until he could be heard.

  “According to our solicitors,” he replied, “I believe she is involved in investments.”

  “A banker!” said Rinda in a huff.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What will she do, David?”

  “Our solicitor believes she may simply sell the laird’s cottage and the rest of the property and return to America.”

  “What will become o’ the lairdship then, David?” asked Fergus.

  Gradually the seriousness of what was at stake began to dawn on David’s listeners.

  “That I cannot say,” replied the man they looked to as their chief now more than ever. “It may be that the lairdship as we have known it will be a thing of the past,” he added quietly.

  David drew in a long breath. The crowd had at last been stunned into silence. This was not the response they wanted from the chief of their clan.

  “It seems possible,” David went on, “that the village and land, and perhaps your homes, could be sold. I will do all I can to persuade her to offer them to you first. Many of you have been worried that Hardy would do exactly that if he became laird. So things may turn out just as you expected. And look at the bright side,” he added enthusiastically, “it’s possible the outcome may prove better than you thought.”

  “Hoo could that be, David?” chimed in a voice from the back. “It disna seem likely.”

  “It’s no secret that there was considerable worry about what Hardy might do. I am only emphasizing it is pointless to worry until we know more for certain.”

  “What aboot the factory?” asked MacBean.

  “It’s too soon to say, Murdoc,” replied David. “If she is not interested in continuing its operation, the factory may be sold as well. But there is no reason we cannot buy it ourselves and continue as always. Community-owned businesses are very common these days. You would all have a share in the ownership of the Mill. You would be your own bosses, and I would contribute as well. Rest assured that whatever happens, I promise I will do all that lies in my power to preserve Whales Reef and our way of life.”

  David paused briefly. Every eye rested on him. “Truthfully,” he continued, “I cannot keep the new laird from selling portions of the island. Hopefully that will not happen. However, if it should prove impossible to buy the factory building, with your help we will continue operations at the Auld Hoose. We can remodel my barns and transfer the wool factory there. As long as I have breath, and as long as the Auld Hoose and its property remain mine, not a one of you will lose your jobs. We will survive as we always have.”

  A great cheer went up for their chief. No matter what the future brought, in spite of Rinda Gunn’s private grumblings to her nephew, most of the islanders knew that David would stand with them, even if it meant going down with them on a sinking ship.

  “Is she a Tulloch?” asked Gordon’s wife.

  “She obviously has Tulloch blood in her veins, Grizel,” said David. “But she is not a Tulloch in name.”

  “Then who is she?” repeated Rinda Gunn. “I’m askin’ ye again, David! Hoo can she inherit if she’s no Tulloch?”

  “She is Macgregor Tulloch’s legal heir,” replied David, “the great-great-granddaughter of the Auld Tulloch through his eldest son, just as Hardy and I are his great-great-grandsons. She is a distant cousin that no one knew about. That’s all I know.”

  “That canna be,” objected Rinda’s husband, as much of a local genealogist as the island possessed. “He was disinherited.”

  “That’s only been a rumor all these years. But there’s no evidence that it is actually true.”

  “Who’s next in line after her then?” asked Rinda, “if she doesna take up the lairdship?”

  “I don’t know, Auntie. The court’s full findings were not confided to me. If the woman claims the inheritance, it will not matter.”

  “Will ye meet her yersel’, David?” Fergus put in. “Will ye offer her yer hand? I’m wantin’ tae ken on account o’ the rest o’ us will want tae ken hoo ye’d hae us carry oorsel’s.”

  “You all are to be no more nor less than you’ve always been to me—a friend and a neighbor. If she’s your laird, then I would have you treat her with the respect due her position. She’s got our blood, Tulloch blood, in her veins. She may be an American, but she’s one of us.”

  David’s last words were difficult for him to get out and even more difficult for his listeners to hear. He had been thinking of exactly that quandary all the way back from Lerwick: Should he greet her upon her arrival and give her a royal welcome from the chief?

  Whenever he thought about the American woman whom fate had appointed for him soon to meet, however, the face that rose in his mind’s eye was that of the strange woman from America who had left their community in disarray so many years ago. He would sooner extend his hand to a rattlesnake than welcome Sister Grace back to Whales Reef! He had to keep reminding himself that Macgregor Tulloch’s heir was not Sister Grace.

  “Can ye fight it, David?” said Coira into the lull that had followed David’s last words.

  “I cannot speak for Hardy,” replied David. “There’s word that he’s considering it. Speaking for myself, I have no desire to win an inheritance from a lawsuit. We must abide by the law.”

  “When’s she comin’, David?” asked Keith. “When will we ken mair o’ what she intends?”

  “A few days . . . possibly a week. I don’t know exactly.”

  Though there was no more information to be had beyond what David had already furnished, the clamorous discussion went on for the rest of the afternoon. As teatime approached, the crowd gradually thinned. One, now another, then by twos and threes, they slowly drifted off in the direction of their homes.

  By degrees the square emptied. Those disinclined to cease voicing their disgruntled complaints moved in the direction of the hotel.

  David remained in the village, moving between square and pub, continuing to calm the people as best he could, allowing his smile and laughter and reassuring words to do their work
.

  By seven o’clock, Keith, Evanna, and Audney were doing a brisk trade in beer and ale. The pub remained crowded all evening. Dozens of separate and heated conversations continued until midnight.

  The one man conspicuously missing from all of the hubbub in the town square and the pub was Hardy Tulloch.

  67

  Unsatisfying Departure

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  For the second time in less than a year, Alonnah Ford stared out the window of a 747 at the Atlantic, flying into an unknown as wide as the ocean below her.

  She had hoped to tell Hugh everything, quietly and leisurely. But things had happened so fast. Their lunch two days ago hadn’t exactly been the ideal environment.

  “Hugh,” she had said, “something’s come up—I need to go back to Scotland.”

  “Scotland!” He laughed around his first bite. “I thought you hated it there.”

  “I thought I did too, but—”

  “When are you going to stop letting Maddy run your life?” Hugh had interrupted. “If you don’t want to go, just tell her.”

  Loni made a mental note: Add to Husband List—Doesn’t interrupt.

  “She’s my boss, Hugh,” she said. “You do what Congressman Finney tells you. Why shouldn’t I do what Maddy wants me to do? Besides, this has nothing to do with Maddy. It’s personal.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I told you, something’s come up. I wasn’t going to pursue it at first, but Maddy encouraged me to. She said it was my destiny.”

  “Your destiny? That sounds pretty mystical. What’s going on, Loni?”

  “Actually, I’ve come into an inheritance . . . in Scotland.”

  Hugh stared across the table. “An inheritance?” he repeated.

  Loni smiled sheepishly.

  “What kind of inheritance? Is it sizable? Is it something we can access quickly?”

  Hugh’s we did not go unnoticed. Loni tucked it away but offered no comment.

  “I don’t know . . . to all of the above,” she said slowly. “Apparently it’s a cottage and some land that goes with it. I know nothing more than that.”