Cynthia. Zoe, it’s so nice to see you in a skirt.’
Zoe caught the subtext. We expected to see you in ratty old jeans, and that skirt isn’t much better.
‘Bought it at a yard sale,’ she said. ‘Three bucks. Are we ready to go in and hear this will thing?’
‘Who’s your friend, Cindy?’ Michael Drake asked his youngest daughter.
His smile was indulgent. Zoe had no doubt that her parents spent many a pleasurable evening discussing their youngest daughter’s bevy of beaus. They’d done the same thing about Jade and Di, while Zoe had been still living at home and her two older sisters had still been unmarried.
The only beau Zoe had ever brought home had been one of the guys who hung around near the railway tracks racing dirt bikes when she was about fifteen. Her parents had talked about him, all right.
Cindy was attractively confused at her father’s mistake. ‘Oh, Dad, I don’t—’
‘Mr Drake, Mrs Drake,’ Nick said, stepping forward and extending his hand to Zoe’s parents, ‘I’m Nicholas Giroux. Zoe brought me here to see if there was anything relevant to my family in Ms Drake’s will.’
‘Zoe?’ He concealed it well, but Zoe saw that, while her father had looked indulgent talking to Cindy, he looked wary talking to her. ‘You think your aunt Xenia had something to do with this young man’s family?’
‘Let’s face it, none of us had the slightest idea what she was up to,’ Zoe said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster. ‘There’s some evidence she might have known Nick’s dad. Nick’s been staying with me in Xenia’s apartment,’ she added, and was rewarded by the surprised expressions on all of her family’s faces.
At that moment the big wooden door on the side wall opened and a tubby man in a very expensive-looking suit came out. ‘Mr and Mrs Drake, Jade, Diana, Zoe, Cynthia? Would you care to come in?’
Mr Feinberg shook each of their hands, including Nick’s, as they came into his panelled office. He’d set up enough upholstered chairs for them all to be able to have a seat with a couple left over. The lawyer seemed nervous for some reason.
‘I’ve copied the will for each of you,’ he said, shifting from side to side on his tiny feet as he gave each of them a slim folder. ‘It’s not very complicated, it can be summed up quite quickly, and it will have to go through probate of course, especially with such a sizeable estate as Ms Drake’s, but I feel her wishes are very clear.’
He took a seat behind his great glossy desk and cleared his throat. ‘So, if you open your folders…’
Obediently, Zoe’s family opened the cardboard folders. Zoe stared at the cover of hers. It was blue. Besides the funeral plan, it was the last message her great-aunt had left for her.
She wasn’t in a hurry to read it.
Beside her, she heard Nick draw in a sharp breath. When she looked over she saw he’d opened his folder to the last page.
He held it out so she could see it, and pointed to the date on the bottom, underneath Xenia’s bold black signature. ‘April twenty-third,’ he said.
‘So?’
That wasn’t long ago. It was unsettling to think that her great-aunt might have had a premonition of her own mortality just a few days before she’d bailed on her board.
‘That’s the same day my father’s letter was postmarked.’
Zoe met Nick’s dark eyes with her own.
‘So,’ said Mr Feinberg, clearing his throat, ‘as I said, Ms Drake’s wishes are clear. You can skip the legal language, and turn to page two, where Ms Drake bequeaths the sum of ten thousand dollars to her nephew Michael Drake, and stipulates that additional sums of ten thousand dollars to be invested in bonds for each of her four great-great nieces and nephews already born, with directions for an additional fifty thousand dollars to be set aside for children not yet born, to be held until their eighteenth birthdays when the monies may be used for college tuition or whatever other
Zoe caught the subtext. We expected to see you in ratty old jeans, and that skirt isn’t much better.
‘Bought it at a yard sale,’ she said. ‘Three bucks. Are we ready to go in and hear this will thing?’
‘Who’s your friend, Cindy?’ Michael Drake asked his youngest daughter.
His smile was indulgent. Zoe had no doubt that her parents spent many a pleasurable evening discussing their youngest daughter’s bevy of beaus. They’d done the same thing about Jade and Di, while Zoe had been still living at home and her two older sisters had still been unmarried.
The only beau Zoe had ever brought home had been one of the guys who hung around near the railway tracks racing dirt bikes when she was about fifteen. Her parents had talked about him, all right.
Cindy was attractively confused at her father’s mistake. ‘Oh, Dad, I don’t—’
‘Mr Drake, Mrs Drake,’ Nick said, stepping forward and extending his hand to Zoe’s parents, ‘I’m Nicholas Giroux. Zoe brought me here to see if there was anything relevant to my family in Ms Drake’s will.’
‘Zoe?’ He concealed it well, but Zoe saw that, while her father had looked indulgent talking to Cindy, he looked wary talking to her. ‘You think your aunt Xenia had something to do with this young man’s family?’
‘Let’s face it, none of us had the slightest idea what she was up to,’ Zoe said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster. ‘There’s some evidence she might have known Nick’s dad. Nick’s been staying with me in Xenia’s apartment,’ she added, and was rewarded by the surprised expressions on all of her family’s faces.
At that moment the big wooden door on the side wall opened and a tubby man in a very expensive-looking suit came out. ‘Mr and Mrs Drake, Jade, Diana, Zoe, Cynthia? Would you care to come in?’
Mr Feinberg shook each of their hands, including Nick’s, as they came into his panelled office. He’d set up enough upholstered chairs for them all to be able to have a seat with a couple left over. The lawyer seemed nervous for some reason.
‘I’ve copied the will for each of you,’ he said, shifting from side to side on his tiny feet as he gave each of them a slim folder. ‘It’s not very complicated, it can be summed up quite quickly, and it will have to go through probate of course, especially with such a sizeable estate as Ms Drake’s, but I feel her wishes are very clear.’
He took a seat behind his great glossy desk and cleared his throat. ‘So, if you open your folders…’
Obediently, Zoe’s family opened the cardboard folders. Zoe stared at the cover of hers. It was blue. Besides the funeral plan, it was the last message her great-aunt had left for her.
She wasn’t in a hurry to read it.
Beside her, she heard Nick draw in a sharp breath. When she looked over she saw he’d opened his folder to the last page.
He held it out so she could see it, and pointed to the date on the bottom, underneath Xenia’s bold black signature. ‘April twenty-third,’ he said.
‘So?’
That wasn’t long ago. It was unsettling to think that her great-aunt might have had a premonition of her own mortality just a few days before she’d bailed on her board.
‘That’s the same day my father’s letter was postmarked.’
Zoe met Nick’s dark eyes with her own.
‘So,’ said Mr Feinberg, clearing his throat, ‘as I said, Ms Drake’s wishes are clear. You can skip the legal language, and turn to page two, where Ms Drake bequeaths the sum of ten thousand dollars to her nephew Michael Drake, and stipulates that additional sums of ten thousand dollars to be invested in bonds for each of her four great-great nieces and nephews already born, with directions for an additional fifty thousand dollars to be set aside for children not yet born, to be held until their eighteenth birthdays when the monies may be used for college tuition or whatever other
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