American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  “According to my evaluations, Greenwood is worth a great deal of money.”

  “Not nearly so much as Stuart seems to think. Not to mention that my mother and father, and Carolyn and I, have worked the land most of our lives. You and Stuart have other careers, other sources of income. Margaret and Pamela are married to husbands with careers of their own. Greenwood is our only source of income. Each of you has already received two thousand dollars from the estate, which is a sizeable sum given Greenwood’s limited resources. And the simple fact is—I was the only direct heir left to my father and mother. There was no other decision the court could have made.”

  “None of that changes the fact that when Grandfather Albert died, my father, who should have inherited a third of his estate, was left with nothing.”

  “Not exactly nothing, Harland. You seem to forget the four thousand dollars he and Aunt Sarah were both given, which was considered to be two-thirds of the estate’s value and a good deal of money at the time. Uncle Oscar then spent his portion traveling in Europe and South America and never worked another day in his life. If you and Pamela were left with nothing, it is to your own father you should look rather than to mine.”

  A flash of anger appeared in the attorney’s eyes, but for the present he kept his composure.

  “I apologize,” said Richmond almost immediately. “I had no right to say that. But the fact remains that Aunt Sarah left Stuart and Margaret plenty from her share to see them through. You are well acquainted with the family finances, Harland—you know of Stuart’s investments, and that he is worth more than the two of us together by a good deal.”

  “And you should know that to be as red a herring as ever swam in the North Sea!” snapped the attorney, his temper momentarily getting the better of him. “Need has no bearing on legalities in estate disposition.”

  “Of course not. I was not suggesting any legal precedent arising out of Aunt Sarah’s and Stuart’s very successful investments. But if need has no bearing, neither does mere want, which is all Stuart’s claim is—”

  “Look, Richmond,” interrupted Harland curtly, “granted, the estate has been passed down intact to the eldest for three successive generations. But these are new times. This is not feudal England. This is nineteenth-century America. The point of Stuart’s claim is that it is time to redress that inequity. That the younger heirs in each case were given some token settlements to insure their silence—”

  “Good heavens, Harland… that is a completely erroneous construction to place on it!”

  “They were paid off, Richmond. It is as simple as that.”

  “They were given sizeable legal settlements as their portion of the inheritance. There is a big difference.”

  “They were given a mere portion of the estate’s value.”

  “An equitable portion.”

  “As you see it, perhaps.”

  “I grant you that. Certainly there are judgment calls that must be made in such situations. Grandfather Albert, as well as my father and my mother, and I would have to include myself along with them—we all had to make judgments of what we considered fair. Grandmother Zena was already dead when Grandfather Albert died. So he made financial provision for your father and Aunt Sarah. My mother was still living when my father knew he was dying, so he left Greenwood to her, and she in turn assumed that it was the right and fair thing that it be left to me since I was the only direct heir.”

  “She would have been better to have trusted in the law, and allowed me as her attorney to make those determinations.”

  “So that you could split up Greenwood, or sell off portions, and make it impossible for it to continue as a viable plantation?”

  “If such became necessary.”

  “That is exactly why she did not, and why Grandfather Albert and my father assured that the plantation was kept in one piece as well. A family farm, or business of any kind, requires substantial assets to be able to produce a sustainable income. You know that, Harland. You have studied business as well as law. You are well enough aware of the economics of land use and production. One hundred and ninety acres is not a large plantation. Greenwood is a very modest-sized operation—”

  “You are omitting the sixty acres of the Brown tract.”

  “A good deal of that is forested and hilly. Only about twenty or so is arable, that portion Mr. Brown cultivated himself.”

  “Some of the choicest land in Virginia. It would fetch a tidy price.”

  “Perhaps. But I doubt it is any different than most of the land surrounding it. Mr. Brown was simply a genius in making crops grow. He understood things most farmers have no inkling of. He had instincts of what to grow, and when, and on which parcels, and what the weather patterns would be ahead of time.”

  “There are some who say that his powers were supernatural, and not of the heavenly variety. They say his ghost haunts the land.”

  “You can’t believe that. He had his peculiarities, I will admit. But he knew the land—that’s why he was able to make it produce. Neither my father nor I have had any more success with crops there than anywhere else throughout Greenwood. The larger issue involved is that my father did not consider the Brown land ours. He always hoped Brown would return.”

  “All of which is beside the point… which is that all of those two hundred forty acres might not rightfully belong to you—and I am not referring to Mr. Brown—and that it may be necessary to sell some of it to meet your family obligations.”

  “It is easy for you to recommend such drastic measures—you have another career. But as I said earlier, Harland, Greenwood is the only livelihood Carolyn and I possess. We have nothing else.”

  The attorney shrugged. He was unmoved by the argument.

  “To survive,” Richmond went on, “a working plantation needs a certain amount of acreage… a hundred twenty, a hundred fifty acres minimum. Split it into pieces and none of the smaller parcels could sustain themselves. Cattle and other animals need land. Crops need to be rotated, and there needs be sufficient leeway that if one crop fails in a given year, the harvest of another will make up the difference. And before you say that I am being unfair, remember that I was not the eldest. I never planned to inherit Greenwood. All five of us knew when we were growing up—you and I and Pam and Peggy and Stuart—that one day Clifford would be its owner. The fact that Grandfather Albert made provision for Aunt Sarah and Uncle Oscar too, as I have attempted to do myself toward the rest of you—I think that speaks of equitability in the arrangement, while recognizing the necessity to keep the land intact, as well as recognizing how much work is involved in the operation of such a plantation.”

  Harland listened dispassionately, obviously bored and unpersuaded by his cousin’s arguments, and only waiting for him to conclude his speech so that he could get on with it.

  “You know as well as the rest of us, Richmond,” Harland went on, “that Greenwood was a family estate back then. It should have been split between Grandfather Albert, my father, and Aunt Sarah, years ago. Stuart’s suit attempts to address that imbalance now. Since you possess the land, and as your mother did not see fit to split it between us all at her death, that obligation naturally falls to you.”

  “Is that the gist of it—that you want the estate actually split between all five of us?” said Richmond, unable to conceal his astonishment. “I had no idea.”

  His cousin did not reply.

  “To split up the land would doom Greenwood,” Richmond said in a soft voice, sitting as one stunned. He knew that his four cousins expected more from his mother’s estate. They had discussed the matter any number of times over the course of the past two years. But he had not dreamed Stuart’s lawsuit would go so far.

  “I will have to talk the matter over with Carolyn,” he sighed at length.

  “I need hardly remind you, Richmond,” rejoined his cousin, “that she has nothing to do with it. This is strictly a matter between direct Davidson heirs.”

  For an instant it was now
the elder Davidson’s eyes that flashed.

  “Carolyn has everything to do with it,” he said. “Not only does Greenwood belong equally to her as it does me, she is also the one who will help me decide how to respond to this… this news of what Stuart expects.”

  “There is really no decision to be made. If you do not agree, Stuart insists that he is prepared to continue with formal proceedings against Greenwood.”

  “He could not hope to be successful. Surely as his attorney, you realize that.”

  “He has sought other legal counsel as well. He has been assured that a formidable case will be mounted against you.”

  When Richmond Davidson boarded the train an hour later to continue on to Greenwood, the documents of the lawsuit folded inside his coat pocket, his brain was numb. He could think nothing but that his peaceful world had suddenly crumbled around him.

  Carolyn was furious at the news.

  “They have no right to make such demands!” she said angrily, her emerald eyes flashing. “And after you already gave them each two thousand dollars—you didn’t have to do that. I thought you were being overly generous back then… but this!”

  “Harland does have a legitimate point,” said Richmond quietly. His spirit had calmed and collected itself as he had attempted to pray and gain a higher perspective during the final portion of his train ride home. “You and I do hold title to the entirety of the land.”

  “Which is exactly as your father and mother wanted it,” rejoined Carolyn. “After Clifford’s death you were their only son. Who else should their property go to?”

  “But perhaps Harland is right, and Grandfather Albert should have—”

  “Oh, Richmond!” interrupted Carolyn. “You can be so infuriatingly understanding and generous at times. You’ve told me yourself that your uncle Oscar was a wastrel. The fact that he squandered Harland’s and Pamela’s inheritance gives Harland no right to come to you for a handout. Besides, I’m sure he’s financially better off than we are. We know Stuart is! Why do you always insist on seeing things from the other person’s point of view… and placing it above your own?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” he said, glancing at his wife with a gentle smile.

  “I suppose. But this upsets me. They’re only threatening to contest the will because they know you won’t fight back.”

  “I can fight well enough if I am sure of the cause, and know it is right and just. But I am very reluctant to fight for myself.”

  “Sometimes I wish you would. I hate it when people take advantage of you.”

  “I confess I do not care much for it myself. It is never pleasant. But we are called to walk the low road, Carolyn, not to defend ourselves or fight for our rights.”

  “I know, I know… why do you always have to be right?”

  She leaned over and kissed him affectionately. “It makes me angry, but that’s why I love you, because of the man you are. Still, you must know that you could fight this in court, and win.”

  “Of course,” he sighed. “Stuart’s claim has no legal leg to stand on as I see it. I am surprised he has the gall to try it. If there was ever going to be a split such as Harland proposes, it should have come from Grandfather Albert. Once Greenwood passed into my father’s hands, it seems that the dissolution was permanent. For several cousins to come back now, a generation later… it does seem a little presumptuous.”

  “Which is why I say again—they would have no case in court.”

  “I am sure you are right. In any event, we shall have to ask God what he wants us to do. If he wants me to fight and tell them that their request is not of the truth and that they need to repent of greedy motives, I will. But I find that is rarely God’s way. We are rarely called upon to say such things when we are personally involved ourselves.”

  “But it’s so unfair!” said Carolyn, her hackles rising again.

  “Finances in families of means can be complex and subject to many a heated quarrel,” rejoined Richmond. “This is certainly not the first time money has come between family members. You and I simply have to keep ourselves from being drawn into the fray, keep our own motives pure, and then find a way to walk through this quagmire as God’s man and woman.”

  Carolyn gradually calmed. “How much is Greenwood worth?” she asked at length.

  “Hmm, I don’t know… that’s a good question,” replied her husband. “It might be worth thirty or forty thousand. Let’s see… the house is probably worth five, the land fifteen or twenty thousand, possibly more, and the Brown tract ten. I don’t know. The value of our slaves, if we were to sell them all at the slave market in Richmond, might bring six or eight thousand, maybe ten. We would never do that and I don’t consider them in financial terms at all, but I’m sure Harland is thinking of our assets in such a way. To tell you the truth, Carolyn, I have no idea what Greenwood is worth. You don’t just sell a plantation like this. You have to have a buyer. Without a buyer, it’s worth nothing.”

  “You’re not thinking of selling… are you?”

  “Of course not. That wouldn’t be fair to Cynthia and Seth and Thomas. It wouldn’t be fair to my father either… or to you. Nor would it be right. I’m not prepared to go that far. There are principles involved beyond financial considerations.”

  “Good!” she said with a sigh of relief. “For a moment you had me worried.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder where they sat on the divan. Richmond stretched his arm around her and they sat for a long time in silence.

  The money was not really such a paramount concern. They would get by. God would take care of them. Greenwood was his, not theirs. Most importantly, they had each other. That was worth any ten estates twice the size of Greenwood.

  “I don’t want to talk about cousin Harland or any of the rest of them anymore,” said Carolyn at length. “Tell me about your trip to Boston. What was the symposium like? And did you have the chance to talk to Dr. Wingate?”

  “I did,” replied her husband. “But first let me tell you about some interesting people I met.”

  Eleven

  Two months passed, during which most of Richmond Davidson’s waking thoughts dwelt in some fashion on the political decision before him.

  Though he had never before considered becoming politically active as his father and grandfather had been, now that such a potentiality—and at such a high level—had suddenly crossed his path, he found himself drawn toward it in ways he would never have expected. He could not deny that it would offer him an opportunity granted to very few—to make a difference in the world.

  How could he not seriously consider it? He had been offered something many men covet but can never hope to achieve. Such a chance would probably never come again. The part of his inward being that reasoned thus wanted to cast caution to the wind, answer the summons with an enthusiastic, “Yes!” and begin making plans immediately for what he might accomplish.

  Another side of him, however, confronted an entirely different set of questions:

  Was it the right thing… right for him? Was he temperamentally and spiritually suited for it? Was the political world one in which he could feel comfortable? Did he really want to leave the peaceful surroundings of Greenwood? How would it affect his family? Most importantly, was it what God wanted him to do?

  So it went—the two sides within himself each posing difficult questions to the other… with no indication on the horizon which of the two would win out in the end.

  Carolyn’s response surprised him as much as did his own. He had expected her to be against it, yet found her pushing him forward with enthusiasm.

  “There are enormous issues on the horizon,” she had said. “The country may need you…. Virginia may need you.”

  Richmond nodded. “I realize that is a possibility,” he said. “It sounds exciting. Just imagine—running for national office, possibly even the vice presidency. What man wouldn’t jump at such an opportunity? If you had asked me six months ago
about running for office, I would have laughed. Yet now the idea excites me. It is the thrill of a great challenge.”

  “It sounds like you are leaning toward accepting their offer.”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly. It is only that I see that it may be something God wants me to do. On the other side of it, I have always felt that the Christian’s true calling is not to change the world through politics, but in more personal ways. It is the distinction of being in the world but not of it. Politics, it seems to me, represents the ultimate in being of the world.”

  “But you say you feel drawn to accept their offer?”

  Richmond nodded. “It is a dichotomy, I admit. Is it merely the pride of manhood desiring to be looked upon as someone of importance, or is it truly something I am supposed to do?”

  “You are surely not being influenced by pride,” said Carolyn, as if the idea was ridiculous, “or by wanting to be important.”

  “No man is immune from pride, Carolyn. It can rear its head in a thousand ways. There are certain things all men feel. I am no exception. To hold power over other men is one of the great snares of history. I must walk very carefully.”

  “Of course. But that argues in favor of your acceptance all the more.”

  “How so?”

  “Because men like you, who are aware of its pitfalls, are needed in politics far more than those who do not see the dangers of pride.”

  “Ah, yes… I see your point. Perhaps you are right. But I have never felt that politics was God’s preferred method for effecting change and good in the world. Jesus was not interested in politics, why should I be? Obedience can only be lived personally, not nationally.”

  “There are Christian men in politics.”