by CeeCee James
Sue’s head swiveled between the attorney and her mother.
“Susan, must you stand there with your mouth open that way?” her mother asked.
“I—I’m sorry,” Sue said. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
“It’s understandable.” Parker dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I only found out shortly ago, myself.”
“While Mr. Hamilton regrettably did not meet his son, arrangements were made for a DNA test to be taken. The results of the test were 99.987 percent. Unfortunately, Mr. Hamilton passed before he could make his son’s acquaintance, but he did want to do right by him.”
Mr. Bingham tilted his chin. “It’s because of that duty that I had the sad responsibility of notifying Parker that his father had passed before he had a chance to meet him. I arranged for him to fly out, and met Parker’s plane yesterday. We’ve been staying at the Presardio in Angel Lake. With the power outage, it wasn’t quite the welcome I’d hoped America would give him. I wanted him here when I called this meeting. It’s time for me to read the amendment that’s been made to the will.”
At this news, several members of the family gasped.
One man yelled, “This is an outrage!”
Mr. Bingham eyed him calmly. “Since I haven’t read it, there’s no need to be outraged just yet. We are waiting for one more concerned party.”
Sue looked around the room. “Where is Claudia?”
“She’s late.” Ms. Christoff stated. “Surprise. Surprise.”
Elise wondered what was going to happen next. Who’s Claudia, and are we just going to stand here and wait?
“So, how did you meet your friend?” Ms. Christoff asked, this time staring pointedly at Elise.
Sue flushed. “I work with her. At the clinic.”
“Oh,” Ms. Christoff’s scrutiny sharpened. Elise shifted and offered a smile.
Ms. Christoff did not smile back.
“Well, now, that’s nice. Isn’t that nice?” Mrs. Terrington said, nudging her sister.
A cold smile flickered across Ms. Christoff’s face, disappearing as fast as a dusting of snow in sunlight. “Very.”
Elise swallowed hard. Darn it if she didn’t feel like the mongoose in the viper’s nest.
Everyone’s attention was grabbed by the sound of the front door opening. Elise joined them in facing the doorway.
“Hello! Hello! Anyone miss me?” A high tinkling laugh came first, ushering in a woman in her forties. Her hair was a halo of blonde frizzy curls, held back by a ribbon. She wore a red fitted dress that emphasized her large bust.
“Claudia,” Ms. Christoff snipped, “You’re late.”
“Oh, well nothing’s going to happen without the widow!” Claudia Hamilton introduced herself with a laugh.
Elise was surprised at her candor. Claudia grinned cheekily like she knew everyone was shocked.
“Mr. Bingham! So nice to see you. He was the one who introduced Mr. Hamilton and myself.” The more she spoke, the more obvious it was that her voice was slightly slurred.
“Mrs. Hamilton.” The lawyer bowed his head toward her.
“I’m glad you could find time to welcome your husband’s son.” Ms. Christoff slid back into the couch with a satisfied smile. It seemed this was the bombshell she’d been waiting to deliver.
“Parker? He’s here?” Claudia scanned the faces.
Elise was surprised when the widow’s glance skipped past Parker.
“You’ve already been acquainted with him?” Ms. Christoff asked, her smile slipping. Her eyes narrowed.
“Of course! Poor Roger has been in contact with Parker ever since he found out he was the boy’s father.”
Parker walked forward just then. It seemed to Elise that he was hesitant. When he saw that Claudia caught sight of him, his chin lowered.
“Claudia,” he said. “After all those phone calls…it’s so nice to finally meet you face to face.”
Mr. Hamilton’s widow stared. Her head shook slightly side to side as if in disbelief. Then, she slowly held out a hand.
He took her hand in his and shook it.
“Parker,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“We have a lot of catching up to do, it seems. There will be plenty of time. I’ll make sure of it,” the young man answered.
Elise could feel her eyes widen. Was it just her imagination? Or did those statements carry with them a threat?
Chapter 11
“Are we ready for me to read the amendment?” the attorney, Mr. Bingham asked. He waited for everyone’s attention and then pulled a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket. “As you all may remember, the old will stated that should he pass with no living children, his wife would receive thirty percent of his estate, and his living siblings the remainder.
A leather dossier sat on the table before him, which he opened. After shuffling through a few sheets of paper, he read out loud.
“‘As I reach an age where fatherhood seems out of the cards for me, simply because I do not have the desire to parent small children, I find luck has bestowed an unexpected gift on me. A son.
“‘I met Miss Katherine Stuart nearly twenty-five years ago. She was to be my constant companion during the months I spent in England. We parted ways when I returned home, and I have not been in contact since.’” At this point the lawyer shuffled through the papers before finding a photograph and holding it up for the family to see.
He continued. “‘In November of this year, my attorney, Henry Bingham informed me of a letter he’d received from a Barrister representing Katherine Stuart’s estate. Sadly, she’d passed the month before from an unexpected illness, but not before leaving a letter addressed to me.
“‘In this letter, I learned I had a son of twenty-four years of age. He was introduced to me as Parker Roger Stuart.
“‘My attorney procured the proper tests to establish paternity rights. And as that came back as conclusive, I’ve endeavored to make contact with the boy.
“‘I’m making the statement that I, Roger Carter Hamilton, amend this will to the following.
“‘My dear Claudia to receive thirty percent, my living child(ren) to split thirty percent, and my company to receive the remainder held as a trust for my child(ren). Any living siblings will split ten percent of the stock holdings in Hamilton Banking.
“‘If any should contest this will, they will receive nothing. Signed, Roger Carter Hamilton. Notarized by Mrs. Johnson,’”
Mr. Bingham removed his glasses and tucked them away. He refolded the papers, giving the tattoo a chance to peek out from the cuff again. Elise had a longer look at it this time. The edges were blurred as if it were old.
“Mrs. Johnson,” Ms. Christoff mused, her lip curling into a cold grin. “Funny how she didn’t mention that to me in all this time.” She glanced at her sister. “We have the same manicurist.”
“I do have some good news,” Mr. Bingham said. He raised his voice when the group ignored him. “I said, I have good news.”
Finally, everyone quieted.
“We’ve been successfully able to block a petition at the Office of Inspector General of the FDIC for an audit with the claims of predatory lending. The Inspector General overthrew the petition on grounds it was biased.”
“Who brought the petition?” Elise asked. Again, twelve pairs of eyes fastened on her. The stares made her sweat, but she straightened her spine and tried to force a confident look in her eye.
“Ms. Christoff?” Mr. Bingham deferred to his client.
“I really don’t see the need….”
“It was a Mr. Michael Baker, right? Aunt Babe’s grandson,” Sue’s voice rang out loud and clear. Her chin stuck out defiantly.
Mr. Bingham glanced again in Ms. Christoff’s direction. His tongue dabbed against his bottom lip. “That is correct, Miss Christoff.”
Sue glanced at Elise and smiled.
“I don’t know what you’re smiling about, Susan,” Ms. Christoff
buffed her nails and then examined them. “Maybe you don’t understand what all of this means.”
“Would you care to explain, Mother?” Sue’s voice had dipped back into the meek. Her shoulders rounded under the angora sweater she wore.
“Don’t be a ninny. The law suit being dropped means next to nothing. The amendment to the will means your inheritance is nearly gone.”
“You mean yours, Uncle Jeff’s, and Aunt Delores…”
“We were to get over twenty percent each. Naturally, some of that would trickle down to you. Though, now this ‘amendment’ puts a wrench in it all. I suppose the will be stuck in probate forever.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Ms. Christoff? The will is quite clear that whoever tries to contest it, shall inherit nothing,” Mr. Bingham said.
“Of course we will,” her mother snapped.
“Ten percent of a mega million dollar estate is better than nothing,” the lawyer hedged. He put his hands in his pocket and stared down his nose at her.
“And how do we know he’s really his son?” Ms. Christoff’s thin arm waved in the direction of the young man. Deep wrinkles appeared around Ms. Christoff’s mouth as if she’d bitten into a lemon.
“I assure you, he’s been checked and double checked. You may examine a copy of the DNA analysis.” The lawyer’s voice was low as he answered.
No one looked at the young man in question, except for Elise. His skin was flushed, and he stared down at his shiny, most likely new, wingtips.
“Well, Claudia can’t like that much either,” Sue mused. She walked to the sideboard and reached for the decanter.
“Will you put that down? That’s what we have housekeeping for.” Ms. Christoff continued to scowl.
Sue jerked as if she’d been jolted by a cow prod. Shakily, she set the bottle down. It clattered slightly on the counter.
“And as for Claudia,” the mother continued. “What does she care? He could have fifty sons for all she cares. She still gets her cut no matter what.”
“I’m standing right here,” Claudia said with a drawl. She walked over to Sue. “And I’ll think I’ll have what you’re having.” She placed two shot glasses on the counter and uncorked the brandy.
Elise winced at the word, “cut,” making it sound like it was a stock holders' meeting discussing a company being sold.
“Something seems shady about all of this,” said Mrs. Terrington. “Who’s the executer? Where’s the notary public?? I’d like to question her.”
“Mrs. Johnson. You’ll find her at the bank,” Ms. Christoff said, picking up the condolence card and waving it again. “I’d like to chat with her, myself. I’m sure there’s no conflict of interest, seeing as how she’s the manager of Hamilton Securities. And just who exactly is the executer.” Her head jerked in the lawyer’s direction, shooting him a look that could kill.
Mr. Bingham blanched but held his ground. “Everything was signed in the most aboveboard manner. And, as was always the case, I remain the executer of both the old will, as well as the amended version.”
“Very interesting. All signed aboveboard, snug as a bug, you say? More than I can say about some of the loans you oversaw,” Ms. Christoff stared him down. “Maybe we should be talking more about that.”
“I don’t see what past loans has to do with anything. And if you’d like to discuss that, please come to my office.” Mr. Bingham pulled out a pocket watch. After examining it, he clicked it shut. “And with that, I need to be going. Good night to you.” He nodded his head and briskly walked out the door, leaving the dossier on the table.
Poor Parker watched him go like a piglet being left by its mother. He turned to the rest of the family, who studied him like a pack of hungry wolves.
Chapter 12
Sweat sprouted on Parker’s brow as everyone watched him. “Listen, I can only imagine your shock. I think I should be going as well.”
“Nonsense,” said Ms. Christoff, her tone infused with fake delight. “We need to get to know you better. After all, you’re family. And dinner will be ready soon.”
“I agree,” the widowed Mrs. Hamilton said. She walked up to him and curled her fingers around his upper arm. “My! They fed you well in…where was it again?”
“East Sussex.” His voice cracked like his mouth was dry. Gone was the warning tone Elise had thought she’d heard earlier. Now the roles definitely seemed reversed.
“Mother, I wasn’t planning on staying for dinner. I need to get Elise home as well. She has dinner plans.” Sue said.
“What is all this talk about going?” Mrs. Terrington exclaimed. “My goodness, Sister, did you ever?”
“Everyone is staying, and that’s final.” Ms. Christoff’s cold gray eyes swept around the room, finally landing on Elise. “Except for her, of course. If she needs to leave, then we’ll call her a cab.”
Sue opened her mouth like a fish. Her face went white with panic. It was obvious she didn’t know what to say. “Can you change your dinner plans?” she asked, her hand reaching for Elise’s arm.
Elise didn’t need to feel the strength of the grip to realize Sue was begging. “Sure, just give me a second,” she said. She dug out her phone from her purse.
Oh, boy. Lavina’s not going to be happy. But I can’t leave this poor girl here, alone. She sent the text to Lavina postponing the wedding-planning get together.
It wasn’t ten seconds later that Lavina responded, all in angry caps—YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON GIRL!
Elise responded— I do
Lavina said— Good, because the next time you cancel, you’re going to end up with a canary yellow dress and fur-collared capes!
Elise smiled as she tucked her phone away. She looked up to see everyone watching her. “Uh, it’s fine. I’ve rescheduled my plans.”
“Wonderful.” Ms. Christoff’s tone said it was anything but.
Elise crouched on the ground and made a soft kissy noise to the dog. “Cookie. Come here, girl.”
The dog scooted over from where she’d been sitting at the base of the couch. Her tail wagged slowly as if uncertain. Elise held out her fingers for the dog to smell and, when that seemed to go well, began rubbing the dog behind her ear. “What a pretty girl you are,” she whispered.
“I’d like to see the picture. Where’s it at?” Mrs. Terrington said. The leather dossier was located, and the contents examined.
“Copies, nothing but copies,” Ms. Christoff said dismissively.
“Well, you sure can’t imagine he’d bring the real documents here to these heathens,” Mrs. Terrington added.
Elise was delighted and surprised when the picture made its rounds to her.
Sue whispered, “I’m so sorry about all of this,” when she passed it over.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m totally fine.” Elise said. She examined the picture. Like Sue’s aunt had mentioned, it was a copy of the original. A young couple stared into the camera’s lens. Across the bottom, in backward slant, were the words, Roger and Catherine, East Sussex.
“Did you hear he was supposed to meet with someone? That day he went to the ice rink,” Elise whispered to Sue. She hoped by feeding Sue that little bit of information, her friend might be able to ferret out who her Uncle was supposed to get together with.
“No?” Her friend shook her head, looking worried.
“Yeah, at the Cranshaw’s.” Elise leaned in closer. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to know. Maybe you can ask around?”
Sue nodded. She plucked at a fuzz on her sweater, and whispered from the side of her mouth, “Give me a minute. And we’ll leave right after dinner. I promise.”
“Where’s the restroom?” Elise asked. Sue gave her directions to a room three doors on the left down the hall.
Quietly, Elise excused herself from the grand room and went on a search for the bathroom.
She really didn’t need to, but it gave her an excuse to escape the crowd of people for a moment, and perhaps do a tiny bit of sleuthing
. Her inner voice was quick to correct that. Snooping, you mean.
Whatever she meant, it was quiet in the hallway, and tempting to open the heavy engraved doors and peek inside as she passed. The secrets this house must keep.
As Elise meandered the hall, she heard raised voices. It was too quiet to hear what they were saying. Her steps faltered when she realized they were coming from what she supposed was the bathroom.
Elise paused with her hand raised to knock on the door. The voices were decidedly angry. Do I interrupt or continue to wait?
“You certainly look different from the last time I met you, Parker.” That was Mrs. Hamilton’s distinct voice.
“Perhaps it’s my hair,” came his accented answer.
Elise frowned. She realized she hadn’t seen either of them during the family examination of the will and photograph. She looked up the hallway, realizing how it would appear with her standing with her ear practically pressed to the door—like she was eavesdropping. Which, of course, she was.
The door suddenly opened, and Elise leaped back. “Oh! You scared me,” she said, feigning a shaky laugh. Although the shakiness might have been more real than Elise cared to admit.
Mrs. Hamilton didn’t bother to address Elise, but sidled past, leaving Parker to explain.
He shot her a pleasant smile. “So sorry about that. I was having a bit of trouble with the button on my jacket falling off. Unlucky, I guess. Mrs. Hamilton was having a look to see if she could fix it.”
Elise couldn’t help a brief look at the front of his coat where the button appeared to be in working order. She glanced back at his face.
A red flush that crept along Parker’s collar seemed to be another sign he was lying.
At that moment, the butler could be heard in the other room announcing that dinner was served.
Parker excused himself, and Elise nodded. She took a moment to examine herself in the mirror before following after him.
The Christmas theme was carried into the dining room. White sprigs of flowers, holly, plates with gold trim, and of course the heady scent of cinnamon and vanilla.