Grace to the Finish

by Julie Hyzy

  “When?” Scott asked with a pointed glance at the phone.

  “It’s too early to call on a Sunday.” I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll wait until after lunch. Besides, I need to figure out what exactly I plan to say beyond ‘Hi.’”

  “And I imagine Grace would prefer to make this call without us as an audience.” Bruce pointed to himself and his partner. To me, he said, “Lucky for you, we’re heading to the building in about an hour. You’ll have the place to yourself for the rest of the day.”

  “I promise I’ll keep you both updated.”

  • • •

  Shortly after noon, with my roommates out for the day and Bootsie sleeping in my favorite chair, I blew out a breath. Excitement, nervousness, and anticipation combined to ramp up my heart rate. I paced the first floor for a couple of minutes rehearsing what I intended to say when I talked with Joe.

  The kitchen phone rang, startling me. Could he have sensed my vibes and taken the initiative?

  As I hurried to pick up, I realized the folly of that thought. If Joe called, he would most likely use my cell.

  I checked the display before I picked up. No name, just an unfamiliar number. Probably a telemarketer. I decided to ignore it.

  Before turning away, I glanced at the number again. Something about the last four digits gave me pause. Slightly familiar. Enough to take a chance and answer?

  If this turned out to be one of those scammers trying to convince me that my computer was sending out viruses, or that the IRS was initiating a lawsuit against me, I’d slam the phone in their ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh my goodness. It’s so lovely to hear your voice, Grace.”

  I blinked my confusion at the warm greeting. “Thank you,” I stammered. “Who is—” And then it hit me. “Arlene,” I said with surprised delight. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing wonderfully well,” she said. “So very pleased to get your message.”

  “It’s great to hear your voice, too.” Arlene’s call, coming now after I’d all but given up on hearing from her, required my full attention. I worked to rearrange my brain. “Thank you for returning the call.”

  She gave a soft, lilting laugh. “I would have gotten back to you sooner, but I just got home yesterday from a cruise with one of my friends from the club,” she said. “We didn’t land until late last night, though, so I waited until after church this morning to call back.”

  “I’m so glad you did.”

  “What’s on your mind, honey?” Her tone had sobered. “Not that I don’t appreciate hearing from you, but your message took me a little by surprise. I hope you don’t have bad news to share?”

  Bad news was often a matter of perspective, but I knew what she meant. “Everyone is healthy,” I said. “Thanks for asking.”

  “And you?” she pressed. “How are you?”

  We could go back and forth all day with niceties. Time to get to the heart of the matter. “To be honest, Arlene, I’m confused. And I’m hoping you can help me clear a few questions up.”

  She made a noncommittal noise.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard,” I began, then told her about my discovery regarding my mother’s relationship to Bennett.

  “How wonderful for you,” she said when I finished.

  “It is wonderful,” I agreed. “Finding out that Bennett is my uncle has been one of the best things that’s happened to me since I moved down here to be with my mom.”

  “Before she died, your mom never told you any of this?” Arlene asked. “About her connection to Marshfield?”

  “Not a word,” I said. “Did she ever mention it to you?”

  “Never. I had no idea.”

  “I’d like to think that she did tell my dad at some point,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure she did. Your parents were one of the most loving couples I’ve ever known. Your mother was bereft when your dad died.”

  Time to ease into it. “You knew them before I was born, didn’t you?”

  “I sure did. Your mom and I worked together for a few years. We used to double date even before we were married.”

  “And you and my mom stayed close for a long time, right?”

  “Until my husband got that job in Seattle,” she said. “Broke my heart to leave all my friends and family, but it turned out to be a great opportunity for all of us.”

  “When was that?” I asked.

  She named the year. I was right. I would have been a sophomore in college.

  “So, you knew my mom and dad when they were expecting Liza, is that right?”

  Arlene made the same noncommittal noise she’d made earlier.

  “You did, right?” I asked again.

  “Yes. Yes, I knew them before Liza was born.”

  Interesting wording. “This is where it gets tricky,” I said.

  I heard her sharp intake of breath.

  Despite the fact that I longed for answers, I found it difficult to actually put the question into words. “Do Liza and I have different fathers?”

  Arlene remained silent for a long time. Too long. When she finally spoke, she asked, “What’s this all about, Grace?”

  I told her.

  When Arlene and I hung up an hour later, I still wanted to call Joe, but I needed to clear my head. Needed time to assimilate all that Arlene and I had talked about.

  I also needed to meet with Bennett. This affected him, too.

  I walked into the parlor and lifted my snoozing Bootsie from my chair. I sat down, positioning the little cat on my lap. She stared sleepily at me for a moment, circled twice, then huffed and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 32

  “Well, well, well,” Frances said when I walked in the next morning. “You’ve certainly had a busy weekend.”

  No sense wasting time. I threw my purse onto one of the two chairs across from her and flopped into the other. “How much have you heard?”

  Her tadpole eyebrows shot up. Clearly, not the reaction she’d expected. Unruffled, she launched into a fairly accurate recitation of the events at the Granite Building that led to Craig’s arrest, including the tidbits about Virginia’s involvement and her daughter’s likely complicity.

  She sat forward, head tilted slightly. Eyes sparkling. “Is there more?”

  “Depends,” I said as I scratched the side of my ear. “Joe Bradley is still married.”

  “That dirty bird.” She sat back, her mouth round. “You’ve dumped him then, right?”

  “There’s a lot more to the story than meets the eye. I’ll be happy to share details with you providing you keep everything to yourself.”

  She crossed her lips as though locking them with a key, but her eyes were wide.

  “Good,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with him yet. I wanted to, but I had a pressing issue to deal with last night.”

  The door to Frances’s office opened and Bennett strode in. “Look at this,” he said with a wide smile. “Two of my favorite people in one place. Today promises to be an excellent day.”

  I nabbed my purse from the empty chair to allow Bennett to sit. Frances gave him the side-eye. “Uh-oh,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m glad you asked, Frances,” he said. “We need a favor.”

  She leaned forward, arms on her desk. “Talk to me.”

  • • •

  That afternoon, Bennett and I made the trek to one of the mansion’s private rooms. Although referred to as the Guest Hobby Room in the house’s original plans, the shape and scope of the enormous space called to mind a grand hotel’s lobby rather than a cozy nook designed for reading, sewing, or painting.

  For today’s event, the staff had stripped canvas coverings from the upholstered pieces and had made the teak, mahogany, and cherry wood furniture gleam. Set
in a corner of the second floor, the teal-wallpapered room had two walls of arched windows and a tromp l’oeil ceiling that appeared to soar to the sky.

  A circular rug emblazoned with an ornate M sat at the room’s center, and two long gold sofas faced each other in front of the marble fireplace. An assortment of hard-backed and wing chairs, along with two wood-framed upholstered settees, made up the rest of the room’s seating.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here,” Bennett said as he strode across to gaze out the window. “I’ve missed it.”

  “I’m looking forward to the day we add this stop to our tour.”

  We’d been eager to open this particular space to visitors, but the corridor connecting it to the public areas was not fire marshal approved for access. Not unless we widened it and installed an additional exit. And we weren’t ready to do that.

  “That will be a project for another day,” he said as he turned to face me. “Are you ready for this?”

  I gave a sad laugh. “The fun never stops, does it?”

  He closed the distance between us and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. “Almost there,” he said into the top of my head. “One more hurdle.”

  Frances cleared her throat.

  We separated as she led Liza, Aunt Belinda, Marshfield attorney Ted Hertel, and a man I assumed was Liza’s attorney into the room.

  From the look on Aunt Belinda’s face, I feared she would swoon from amazement. As she made her way in, I watched as she took in everything: the fascinating ceiling, the opulent artifacts that had been brought back in for today’s event, the plethora of portraits and landscapes, and the lush rug beneath her feet. Her fingers grazed Liza’s arm as though to steady herself. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

  “What have I been telling you, Aunt Belinda? See how close they are?” Liza said in a fake hushed tone loud enough to carry. “Don’t tell me there isn’t more to this story.”

  I ignored her as Frances introduced Everett Young. Both he and Ted carried briefcases, and as soon as the social graces were attended to, both men pulled up hard chairs. They sat opposite each other, setting their briefcases on nearby low tables and opening the cases with a quick rat-a-tat of competing clicks.

  “Please,” Bennett said to my aunt and sister as he gestured toward the sofas, “make yourselves comfortable.”

  A moment later, we were joined by two staff members from the Birdcage Room, who went from guest to guest taking beverage orders. Two other staffers brought in trays of cheese, fruit, and chocolate, setting them down atop the table between the couches.

  Liza and Aunt Belinda sat on the gold couch facing the south windows; I sat facing the door with Bennett on my right and Frances on my left.

  “She’s not staying, is she?” Liza pointed at Frances. “I don’t want her here.”

  Bennett forced a smile. “Frances stays.”

  Aunt Belinda patted Liza’s leg. “It doesn’t matter. Look at this place.”

  Bennett thanked the staffer who served him coffee. “I take it you approve?” he asked Aunt Belinda. He poured a little cream into his cup. “I hope you’ve had a chance to look around.”

  She shook her head as she stirred cream and sugar into her own cup. “Only what I got to see on the way up here. After today, I’ll make a point of visiting more often.” This delivered with a knowing look to Liza.

  Frances jabbed the side of my leg with her pinky finger. I ignored her as I reached for my lemonade. “Please help yourselves,” I said to our guests.

  Liza had ordered scotch and soda. Frances coffee, and the two attorneys had politely declined.

  Everett Young cleared his throat. “Shall we get started then?” he asked.

  “No time like the present,” Bennett said.

  “Good enough,” Young said. “I’ve drawn up a preliminary agreement between you, Mr. Marshfield, and my client Liza Soames.” He stood to hand a sheaf of papers to Bennett and a second set to me. “And here’s a copy for your attorney.” He handed the remaining documents to Ted and positioned himself behind the opposite sofa.

  Bennett nodded his thanks and began to read. A moment later, he tapped the page. “Right here,” he said.

  Young came alert. “A problem?”

  “This agreement begins with an erroneous premise,” Bennett said.

  Young offered a bland smile. “Enlighten me.”

  “It states that I made Grace my heir because of our blood relationship,” Bennett said.

  “And?” Young asked. “Are you telling me that isn’t true?”

  “I don’t dispute that Grace will be my sole heir,” Bennett said, stressing the word “sole.” He grinned at me. “But she doesn’t need to wait for me to die. I made her co-owner in all that I possess now.”

  Young looked taken aback. As did Aunt Belinda and Liza. “I was not aware that you’d taken such a drastic step,” Young said. A second later he’d collected himself, and if I could use the word “giddy” to describe his demeanor, I wouldn’t be far off.

  “Yes, but,” Bennett said, “the issue I have is that I didn’t make Grace co-owner and heir only because of our blood relationship. I chose to do that because I trust her. There is no law that requires me to share my fortune with family members. If Grace and I were not related, I may have still followed this course.”

  “Ah, but you didn’t,” Young said. “You made no such change until after DNA results proved familial ties. There is evidence to back that up. Should you refuse to settle with my client, we are prepared to go to court to prove that what is given to one Marshfield descendent is owed to the other.”

  “You’ll never win,” Bennett said easily.

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  Bennett and I returned to reading. I was appalled by the demands, but kept reading, fighting the urge to shout my disdain. Reading over my shoulder, Frances huffed.

  Except for Frances’s muffled exclamations, the three of us turning pages as we read, and Aunt Belinda and Liza taking sips of their drinks, the room was silent.

  When Bennett got to the end of the agreement, he drew in a deep breath and placed the sheaf of papers next to his coffee. He took a sip and placed the china cup back in its saucer with a sharp clink.

  “So, Liza.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You believe you’re entitled to one-third of my estate, did I read that correctly?”

  Her eyes sparked.

  “I can answer on behalf of my client,” Young said. “Yes, she does.”

  Bennett flicked a glance up at the man. “She’s free to speak for herself.”

  “Now that you ask,” Liza said, squirming forward to sit at the cushion’s edge, “I think I’d like to amend that part of the agreement. I didn’t know my dear sister had complete control of the Marshfield fortune. That makes my claim to one-third feel like a piddling sum.”

  “Piddling?” Bennett barked a laugh. “Oh, child, you have no idea.”

  “I want what my sister has,” Liza said. She lifted her scotch and soda in a mock toast to me. “I’ve only ever aspired to what my sister has.”

  One of Frances’s legs began to bounce. A vein at her temple stood out in sharp relief.

  “I understand,” Bennett said soothingly. “And I can’t blame you. Grace has a great deal more than you could ever hope to attain.”

  Liza seemed unsure of how to respond.

  “However,” Bennett continued, “if you are ever to succeed the way Grace has, I’m afraid you’ll have to do that on your own.” He turned to our lawyer. “Ted?”

  Ted got to his feet and solemnly handed one set of documents to Liza and another to her attorney.

  As they began to read, Ted said, “This is the agreement my client is offering.” He glanced at his watch. “You have one hour to accept before it’s withdrawn.”<
br />
  “This is ridiculous.” Liza’s face flushed red. “This is less than you were willing to give me before. I can’t live on twenty-five thousand dollars a year.”

  “My offer is more than generous, given the circumstances,” Bennett said.

  “What about living expenses?” Liza slapped the page. “There’s no mention of any.”

  “Grace tells me you refused to move into the apartment we rented for you.”

  “Of course I refused. I deserve better.”

  Nearly bursting to chime in, I held myself back. Frances and Aunt Belinda seemed locked in a vicious staring contest—neither willing to back down.

  “If you prefer more luxurious accommodations than the ones I originally offered,” Bennett said, “you can always get a job.”

  I smiled.

  Liza made an impolite noise.

  “Liza,” Young said quietly, “please. Allow me.”

  “No,” she said. “This is ludicrous.” She threw the document to the floor and got to her feet. “We will see you in court.”

  “No,” Bennett said softly. “You won’t.”

  Visibly rattled by the explosive turn of events, Young begged Liza to calm down. “Please,” he said again, “let me handle this.”

  She threw him a look of disgust. “Fine,” she said as she dropped back onto the couch. “But I’m not settling for less than half of the Marshfield millions.”

  Under my breath I silently corrected: Billions.

  Young made an effort to look as though he was studying the agreement before he addressed Bennett again. “First of all, sir, I find it contemptible for you to attempt to coerce my client into signing this agreement within an hour. That’s barely adequate time for me to read through it once, let alone prepare a professional recommendation.”

  Bennett shrugged. “It’s very short.”

  “Yes, I see that,” Young said, ignoring Liza’s huff. “Fortunately, my client has expressed her preference to reject this insulting offer.” He approached Bennett and tried to hand the document back.

  Bennett crossed his arms and shook his head.