Tyler turned to Simon Fitzgerald. “You say you don’t know the exact amount of the estate. May I ask why not?”
“Because our firm handles only your father’s personal affairs. His corporate affairs are represented by two other law firms. I’ve been in touch with them and have asked them to prepare financial statements as soon as possible.”
“What kind of time frame are we talking about?” Kendall asked anxiously. “We will need $100,000 immediately to cover our expenses.”
“Probably two to three months.”
Marc saw the consternation on his wife’s face. He turned to Fitzgerald. “Isn’t there some way to hurry things along?”
Steve Sloane answered. “I’m afraid not. The will has to go through probate court, and their calendar is rather heavy right now.”
“What is a probate court?” Peggy asked.
“Probate is from the past participle of probare—to prove. It’s the act of—”
“She didn’t ask you for a damned English lesson!” Woody exploded. “Why can’t we just wrap things up now?”
Tyler turned to his brother. “The law doesn’t work that way. When there’s a death, the will has to be filed in the probate court. There has to be an appraisal of all assets—real estate, closely held corporations, cash, jewelry—then an inventory has to be prepared and filed in the court. Taxes have to be taken care of, and specific bequests paid. After that, a petition is filed for permission to distribute the balance of the estate to the beneficiaries.”
Woody grinned. “What the hell. I’ve waited almost forty years to be a millionaire. I guess I can wait another month or two.”
Simon Fitzgerald stood up. “Aside from your father’s bequests to you, there are some minor gifts, but they don’t affect the bulk of the estate.” Fitzgerald looked around the room. “Well, if there’s nothing else…”
Tyler rose. “I think not. Thank you, Mr. Fitzgerald, Mr. Sloane. If there are any problems, we’ll be in touch.”
Fitzgerald nodded to the group. “Ladies and gentlemen.” He turned and went toward the door, Steve Sloane following him.
Outside, in the driveway, Simon Fitzgerald turned to Steve. “Well, now you’ve met the family. What do you think?”
“It was more like a celebration than a mourning. I’m puzzled by something, Simon. If their father hated them as much as they seem to hate him, why did he leave them all that money?”
Simon Fitzgerald shrugged. “That’s something we’ll never know. Maybe that’s why he was coming to see me, to leave the money to someone else.”
None of the group was able to sleep that night, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
Tyler was thinking, It’s happened. It’s really happened! I can afford to give Lee the world. Anything! Everything!
Kendall was thinking, As soon as I get the money, I’ll find a way to buy them off permanently, and I’ll make sure they never bother me again.
Woody was thinking, I’m going to have the best string of polo ponies in the world. No more borrowing other people’s ponies. I’m going to be ten goals! He glanced over at Peggy, sleeping at his side. The first thing I’ll do is get rid of this stupid bitch. Then he thought, No, I can’t do that.…He got out of bed and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he was feeling wonderful.
The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning was exuberant.
“Well,” Woody said happily, “I suppose all of you have been making plans.”
Marc shrugged. “How does one plan for something like this? It is an unbelievable amount of money.”
Tyler looked up. “It’s certainly going to change all our lives.”
Woody nodded. “The bastard should have given it to us while he was alive, so we could have enjoyed it then. If it’s not impolite to hate the dead, I have to tell you something…”
Kendall said reproachfully, “Woody…”
“Well, let’s not be hypocrites. We all despised him, and he deserved it. Just look what he tried to—”
Clark came into the room. He stood there, apologetically. “Excuse me,” he said. “There is a Miss Julia Stanford at the door.”
NOON
Chapter Thirteen
“Julia Stanford?”
They stared at one another, frozen.
“The hell she is!” Woody exploded.