The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(90)



“Automatically!” a plumber, who up until now hadn’t said a word, added.

“He ain’t the only kin,” Blondie argued. “Apparently, there’s one-hundred and forty-seven other Lannigans. Like her lawyer said, if this guy gets the estate, every one of them relatives ought to get their part.”

“Okay,” Cohen said begrudgingly, “we make the girl pay back everything she’s spent, then we’ll give the whole ball of wax to all of the Lannigans and let them divvy it up. How’s that sound?”

“Absolutely not!” Eleanor snapped. “I’ll not go along with making that girl give back one nickel!”

“Me neither,” Blondie said.

“Nor will I,” a woman who’d been filing her fingernail echoed.

“We ought to give Destiny Fairchild everything,” the housewife repeated. “That’s what the old woman wanted and that’s what we ought to do.”

“The law says if there’s no will –”

“Law-schmaw,” Blondie sneered. “If there wasn’t no question about what ought to be, then there wouldn’t have been no trial!”

They argued it back and forth for another two hours, and then sick of hearing what one side or the other thought, they worked out a compromise and sent word to Judge Kensington that they were ready with a verdict. I have to say, I really did admire the way Eleanor stood up for things, in fact the way several of those women argued and argued for what they thought was right. I didn’t much agree with their final decision, but I suppose under the circumstances, it was the best they could do.



“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Kensington said, “have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor,” Herman Cohen answered. “Assuming that this petition has been filed on behalf of all Lannigan descendents, we find for the plaintiff, and award the remaining assets in Abigail Lannigan’s estate to be divided proportionally among the one-hundred and forty-eight eligible relatives. We also find that the defendant has acted in good conscience, and therefore, no restitution of assets is warranted.”

Destiny asked Charles, “Does this mean Elliott will get her house?”

“Not him,” Charles answered. “The estate. The house will be sold, and the money in the estate divided among all one hundred and forty-eight Lannigans. The good news is that you don’t have to make restitution for anything, and you’re rid of Elliott.”

She looked at him teary-eyed, “Thanks,” she said, “for everything.” As they walked down the courthouse steps, Destiny said, partly to Charles and I believe partly to me, “I know Miss Abigail’s happy that Elliott didn’t get everything.”

“She’ll be very happy,” Charles replied, “because by time they probate those holdings and pay out lawyer’s fees, he’ll probably get less than one thousand dollars.”

“Honestly?” Destiny squealed.

“Honestly,” Charles repeated, then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Lord Almighty, I thought, I certainly do like this young man!





Three Months Later



After the trial Judge Kensington allowed that Destiny could select three things from my house to keep as personal mementos, nothing valued at more than three hundred dollars, he told her and a sheriff’s deputy would have to escort her through the house to make certain of the fact. I, of course, was hoping she’d take the picture of Will that was hanging on my bedroom wall, but she passed it by and took the tiny little snapshot of me and her with our painted pink toenails. After that, she rummaged through my jewelry box and scooped out my mama’s wedding ring – she remembered how much I’d treasured it. The third thing she took was the little leather pouch I’d kept under my pillow all the days of my life. The leather was dry and crackled, worn thin as a piece of parchment paper, but the yellow tie was still knotted tight. When I was sick in bed and waiting to die, I told Destiny the story of that pouch. “It’s the heart of a she wolf,” I said, “a woman of magical powers gave it to me on the day I was born and I’ve carried it with me ever since. It gives a person the courage to get through some mighty rough times.”

When the sheriff’s deputy saw Destiny reach under my bed pillow and take that little pouch, he said, “Wait a minute, what’s that you have?”

I suppose he figured the purpose of him being there was to make certain that she didn’t take something real valuable.

“It’s the heart of a she wolf,” Destiny answered.

“Yeah, sure.” He had the look of a man who figured himself being played for a fool. “Let’s just have a look.”

“It’s not supposed to be untied.”

“If I don’t check what’s in there,” he said, “you can forget about taking it.”

Destiny reluctantly handed over the pouch and watched as the deputy tugged loose the leather tie. Despite its years, the tie unfurled as easily as a satin ribbon.

All my life, I’d believed that pouch contained the heart of a she wolf, and many a time when I felt so worn down that I thought I couldn’t get through another day, I’d remind myself that some brave wolf gave up that heart for me. I’d go to sleep thinking about that, and then the next morning I’d get up and move on with my life. When the deputy opened the pouch and poured out a handful of Shenandoah Valley sand, I laughed so loud it sounded like the thundering of a rain storm.

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