by Joanne Fluke
“Oh, how beautiful!” Marcie stepped off the elevator and into a lobby with deep blue carpeting and two blue leather couches that were several shades lighter than the grass cloth on the walls. The end tables by the couches were made of rosewood, and each had a bouquet of dark red, silk lilies in a tall, navy blue ceramic vase. Although Marcie was sure that there were no natural flowers of that rich, deep red hue, she still reached out to touch a petal. The bouquets were so realistic, they had almost fooled her.
“This way.” Brad led them through a door and down a wide corridor with the same carpeting and the same blue grass cloth on the walls. There was a double door at the end of the corridor and he opened it to usher them in.
“Good morning.” A secretary with lovely, snow white hair greeted them. “Mr. Abrams will be with you in just a moment. Please follow me to the conference room.”
As they entered the conference room, Marcie looked around in delight. Here the color scheme changed to a restful gray and mauve. The carpeting was a deep shade of gray, so dark it was almost black, and there were beautifully framed charcoal prints on the mauve-colored walls. The conference table dominated the center of the room, a shining oval of blond Philippine mahogany, with a floral centerpiece of freshly cut white daisies arranged in a low, wide crystal bowl. There were four gray leather swivel chairs arranged around the table, and on the tabletop, in front of each chair, was a pad of yellow legal paper and a pen.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Abrams will be with you in just a moment.” The white-haired secretary smiled at them. “Would you care for coffee or tea?”
“Black coffee for me.” Brad turned to Rosa.
“Yes, me, too.” Rosa nodded. “But with cream and no sugar. Miss Marcie?”
“Thank you. I’ll have . . .” Marcie stopped in midsentence. She’d been about to ask for tea but she was really beginning to like the taste of coffee. “I’d like black coffee, please.”
The secretary went to an alcove at one end of the room and opened the shuttered doors. Inside was a full coffee service. She arranged three delicate china cups and saucers on a wooden serving tray with a silver carafe of coffee. Then she filled a matching cream pitcher, and carried the tray to the table.
Marcie was impressed as the secretary served the coffee. The whole procedure was very elegant, and it made her feel like a valuable client. She wished her parents’ lawyer, in St. Cloud, Minnesota, could see how they did things in Los Angeles. When Marcie had met with him to settle her parents’ estate, he’d given her instant tea in a Styrofoam cup.
“Good morning.” Sam appeared in the doorway, carrying a mug of coffee. “Brad? Rosa? Marcie? It’s good to see you.”
They made polite conversation for a few moments, while the secretary refilled Sam’s coffee mug. Marcie almost laughed out loud as she noticed the slogan on the side. In bright red letters it proclaimed, LAWYERS PREFER EXPENSIVE SUITS.
Sam caught Marcie’s amused expression, and he smiled at her. “A gift from a client. I usually leave it in my private office, but it holds more coffee than those little china things. Are we ready to get down to business?”
They all nodded, and Sam opened the folder he’d placed on the desk. He took out three copies of stapled papers, and placed them on the table. “As executor, I’ll read the will to you aloud. And then I’ll answer any questions you may have. My secretary has prepared copies for each of you to take with you when you leave.”
Sam looked very serious, especially when he glanced at her, and Marcie felt a strange sense of foreboding. As he began to read, she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. Her hands were trembling, and she didn’t know why.
The will was fairly short, and it took Sam only a few minutes to read it. The letter Mercedes left for her had mentioned the account she’d set up for Rosa. That was no surprise. But the rest of the will certainly was!
As one fateful word followed another, Marcie felt dizzy. Then the conference room began to revolve around her, and she had to take several deep breaths to keep from fainting. Mercedes had left her almost everything, including custody of the twins!
“I know this has been a shock.” Sam handed them copies of the will. “Do you have any questions?”
Marcie swallowed hard, and hoped she could find her voice. Sam was wrong. This was much more than a shock. It was unthinkable! “But why in the world . . . ? I mean . . . I can’t believe how unfair this is to Brad! Don’t community property laws apply?”
“Yes, they do.” Sam nodded. “And this will isn’t at all unfair to Brad. He’s inherited all the property and material wealth Mercedes acquired after their marriage. The racehorses, the antique automobiles, the time-share condo in Hawaii, and any other investments he made for her.”
Marcie nodded. That much was true. “But how about the house? Shouldn’t Brad have the house?”
“It’s not community property.” Sam did his best to explain in layman’s terms. “Mike Lang and Mercedes bought that house together. And when he died Mercedes inherited it, along with the rest of Mike’s estate. Mike’s assets were kept separate, so there were no commingled funds. And even though Brad is Mercedes’s surviving husband, he has no legal right to any part of Mike Lang’s estate.”
Sam turned to Brad. “Do you have any questions, Brad? I know it’s complicated.”
“I understand.” Brad’s face was white. “But I thought Mercedes made out a new will last year.”
Sam looked a little uncomfortable. “She mentioned it to me, but she never followed up on it. I’m sorry, Brad. But you did inherit everything you purchased jointly since your marriage. I’d estimate that to be worth a couple of million, at least.”
“Mr. Sam?” Rosa spoke up. “I don’t understand that account Miss Mercedes left for me. What does it mean?”
“It means you have an income for life, Rosa. Mercedes made sure she put away the money for your yearly salary, with a five percent raise every year. And when the twins turn eighteen, you’ll get a lump sum payment that will be more than enough for your retirement.”
“But what if Miss Marcie goes back to Minnesota?” Rosa looked worried. “My babies’ll go with her, and then I won’t have a job.”
Marcie smiled at the worried housekeeper. “Oh, yes, you will. The twins can’t get along without you, Rosa. You’d move back there with us, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d love to, Miss Marcie.” Rosa gave a deep sigh of relief. “I just wanted you to ask me, that’s all. I’m willing to go anywhere with my babies.”
“That’s it then, except for one thing. Brad? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but right before she died, Mercedes hired another investment firm to handle her money.”
“Mercedes fired me?” Brad looked shocked.
“No, of course not.” Sam patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll still be handling the profits from the joint investments you made with Mercedes, except you’ll be your own boss now. And the stable of racehorses and the antique cars belong solely to you. Mercedes didn’t fire you, Brad. It’s quite the opposite. Under the terms of Mercedes’s will, you have enough money to be totally independent.”
“That’s . . . uh . . . that’s great!” Brad still looked upset as he gathered up his papers. “That was very . . . kind of her.”
Sam nodded. “I want you to remember that Mercedes was very much in love with you when she made up that will. She told me she wanted to be fair to everyone, including her children. Perhaps, if she’d drawn up a later will, she would have given you custody. But you were newly married, and I don’t think she wanted to burden you with her responsibilities.”
“Of course.”
Brad still looked upset, and Marcie gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure things would have been different if she’d written a new will, Brad.”
“Okay. We’re finished.” Sam stood up. “How about some lunch? There’s a new place on Wilshire, and I’m buying.”
Brad shook his head. “I’ve got a couple of ap
pointments I have to keep. Another time, Sam?”
“And I have to get back to the house.” Rosa stood up. “They’re coming to check the sprinklers again this afternoon.”
“Again?” Marcie looked puzzled.
“It’s the fourth time this week, and they still don’t work right.” Rosa gave a sigh. “Maybe I should offer them room and board. They come out to check them almost every day.”
Sam turned to Marcie. “How about it, Marcie? We have more business to discuss, and I’ll give you a ride home after lunch.”
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t need me . . .” Marcie hesitated and looked at Rosa.
“You go on and have lunch with Mr. Sam.” Rosa gave her a nod. “It’ll do you good to go out to a fancy place and have some fun.”
“This is wonderful, Sam.” Marcie finished the last of her Peking duck, and looked up at Sam with a smile. “I’m afraid I’m developing expensive tastes. I’ll never be satisfied with our little Chinese restaurant in St. Cloud, now that I’ve tasted food like this.”
“You don’t have to be satisfied with things back there, Marcie. You’re a rich woman now. You can give up teaching and stay out here.”
“Just how . . . uh . . . how rich am I, Sam?” Marcie looked concerned.
“Your net worth is about seven million dollars, less a thousand or two. And that’ll increase, now that you have a new investment firm.”
“Seven million dollars?” Marcie looked dazed. “But . . . most of that’s for the twins, isn’t it, Sam?”
“No, that’s yours. The twins have a separate trust account. You don’t have to work anymore, Marcie. You have more than enough money for the rest of your life.”
“But . . . what will I do if I don’t work?” Marcie frowned deeply.
Sam smiled at her. “You’ll stay here and be a mother to Trish and Rick. And if you feel you need some outside interest, there’s always charity work.”
“You mean like giving parties for people who support diseases?”
Sam threw back his head and laughed. “They don’t support diseases, Marcie. They support the cures for diseases. But you’ve got the general idea.”
“Okay, I stand corrected.” Marcie sighed. “And I know somebody has to do things like that, but I’d make a terrible hostess.”
“How about painting? Mercedes told me you always wanted to be free to paint, but you couldn’t afford to take the time off.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Marcie looked wistful. “There’re so many projects I’ve wanted to do, but I’ve never had the time . . . or the money.”
Sam reached out to take her hand. “You have it now, Marcie. And maybe that’s what Mercedes had in mind. She wanted you to be free to pursue your talents.”
“But, Sam . . . I’m not sure I have any real talents.”
Sam shrugged. “You’ll never know if you don’t try. Your sister made sure you’d have the means. Why don’t you give it a whirl?”
Sam’s words were still ringing in her hears as Marcie walked up to her sister’s bedroom. She passed the open door to Brad’s room, and stopped in surprise as she saw he was there.
“Hi, Brad.” Marcie gave a little wave. Then she noticed the suitcases on the bed. “Are you going on a business trip?”
Brad looked upset as he answered her. “No. I’m moving. It’s your house now, and I didn’t think it was right for me to stay here.”
Marcie’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe her ears. “But, Brad . . . do you want to move?”
“No. Of course, I don’t want to move. I just didn’t think you’d want me to stay.”
“Oh, Brad!” Marcie hurried to take his arm. “Don’t be silly. Of course, I want you to stay. The twins would be terribly upset if you left . . . and . . . and so would I.”
Brad looked uncertain. “Really? I wasn’t sure how you’d feel. I didn’t want to leave the twins, but . . .”
“Of course, you don’t have to leave the twins!” Marcie shook her head. “I want you to unpack right now, and never even think of leaving again!”
Brad looked hopeful. “Does that mean you’re staying here in California? It would mean a lot to me, Marcie. I know I’m not their real father, but I think I’d die if I couldn’t see the twins again.”
“I give you my solemn promise that you can see the twins anytime you want to.” Marcie smiled at him kindly. “I’m not sure I’ll stay in California, but I promise I’ll give it some serious thought. Now call Rosa to unpack your bags. As far as I’m concerned, this house is as much yours as it is mine.”
Brad caught her as she was about to leave the room, and he gave her a big hug. “Marcie, you’re wonderful. Please stay here. I’m beginning to feel . . . uh . . . very close to you.”
Marcie didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what would be proper. But when she closed the door to her own room behind her, she was smiling. She was glad she’d been able to talk Brad into staying. What she’d said about the twins was true. She was convinced they’d miss Brad if he suddenly moved out. But there was another reason she wanted him to stay. Brad had said he was beginning to feel very close to her. Marcie wasn’t sure exactly what he’d meant, but she had her hopes. She’d liked Brad as a brother-in-law, and she liked him even more now. She was beginning to feel very close to him, too.
CHAPTER 6
Even though the Academy Theater was huge, every seat was taken. Marcie was in the front row next to Brad, who had the seat on the aisle. The twins were on her other side, Trish next to her, and Rick one seat down. Sam was next, because Rick had insisted he wanted to sit by him, and then Rosa. The rest of the row was empty, and tied off with a maroon velvet rope. The studio had reserved it for Mercedes’s immediate family.
The service was due to start any moment. Marcie tried not to be too obvious, but she looked around with awe as she recognized some very famous faces.
“Aunt Marcie?” Trish moved closer to whisper in her ear. “That’s Robert Redford on the other side, two rows from the front. And Barbra Streisand is in back of us, five rows behind Sam. I know you’re terrible at recognizing stars, so I thought I should tell you.”
Marcie nodded. “Thanks, Trish. Who’s the man directly behind Rosa? He looks just like O.J. Simpson.”
Trish clamped her hand over her mouth and poked at Rick, who leaned over her to explain. “That’s George Williams. He was Mom’s driver. But you’ve got the right sport, Aunt Marcie. George used to play football in the police league.”
“Your mother’s driver was a policeman?” Marcie was surprised.
“A retired policeman.” Trish corrected her. “George got shot chasing a killer. He showed us the scar on his leg.”
Before Marcie could ask any more questions, the curtains opened, and a short, distinguished-looking man took his place behind the podium.
“Mr. Cox.” Rick leaned over his sister to whisper. “He’s a veep at the studio.”
Marcie looked puzzled, and Trish explained. “Veep stands for vice president. There’s a bunch of them, but he’s the most important one. I guess Mom was a really big star, or they would have sent one of the others.”
Marcie nodded and reached out to squeeze Trish’s hand. The twins were adjusting, but it would take a while. When they’d come home from school that first day, they’d clung to Marcie, almost afraid to let her out of their sight. And they’d been clinging to her ever since. Marcie knew it was because they were fearful that something bad would happen to her, too.
Even though she hadn’t thought so at the time, Brad had been right in sending them back to school. Being with their friends had helped a bit. But their teachers said the twins had been unusually silent and withdrawn, and their test scores had dropped considerably.
When Marcie had discussed the problem with the school counselor, he’d advised her to spend as much time with the twins as she could. He’d also suggested starting a new hobby activity, anything to spark their interest. Since her suitcase had finally a
rrived, Marcie had tried painting with Trish, and organizing baseball cards in the collector’s album with Rick. They’d been polite and thanked her for the gifts, but they hadn’t really responded with any enthusiasm. Sam had arrived one night with a couple of new video games, but that hadn’t worked either. And when they’d taken the twins roller skating, one of their favorite pastimes, they’d just skated around the rink listlessly. Seeing them so morose was terribly sad. Marcie was sure they’d snap out of their depression eventually, but she wished she could think of some way to speed up the process.
Brad shifted slightly in his seat, and Marcie turned to look at him. He was staring down at the note cards he’d prepared, going over his speech. He’d told Marcie he’d felt that someone in the family should give a eulogy to Mercedes, and he’d volunteered to do it.
Mr. Cox wasn’t a very good public speaker. His voice was flat with very little inflection, almost a monotone. Marcie did her best to concentrate as he praised Mercedes, but it was an impossible task. She thought, instead, of how she should have offered to say something personal about her twin sister. She could have told these people how Mercedes had supported her all through college, and even paid her way through graduate school. Of course, she’d paid back every cent but the money had been there when she’d needed it.
Her twin sister’s generosity was something these people should know. Marcie doubted that Mercedes had told anyone about the scholarship she’d funded for one of Marcie’s best art students, or the big contribution she’d made to establish the school’s film library, or the way she’d picked up most of the expenses when their parents’ best friends had lost everything they’d owned in a fire. She wished she had the nerve to march right up to the podium and tell everyone about the new animal shelter Mercedes had founded, when Marcie’d told her that the city had condemned the old building where they’d gotten their first puppy. And about their cousin’s children who’d had their teeth straightened, thanks to Mercedes. And their former third-grade teacher with asthma, who’d been hired by Mercedes to take care of her condo in Arizona where the air was dry and much better for her health. Miss Mielke had no idea that Mercedes had purchased the condo in response to one of Marcie’s weekly letters.