Constance (Constance #1)(100)

“You know, I was Abigail’s attorney for almost twenty years. She was always so vague about this place. At the firm, we used to speculate what could be up here that she would spend so much time here. Especially toward the end. Hector will be so disappointed.”

“Why?”

“He has this crazy theory she’d built a secret laboratory. Calls it her fortress of solitude. But no, it’s just a shack. I mean, look at all this junk. Can you imagine anything more absurd than Abigail Stickling doing a jigsaw puzzle?”

“My aunt was a very eccentric woman,” Con said.

“Preaching to the choir there,” he said, looking around again. “The woman was worth close to a billion dollars, and this was where she chose to spend her time. If I live to be one hundred, I will never understand what goes through the heads of the very rich.”

At first, she’d taken his ignorance for an act. A role player in her aunt’s sprawling charade. But as he’d talked, Con realized that he’d been kept in the dark too. When you meant to steal the secret to immortality, no one could know. There was no amount of money that would buy his silence if he knew the truth. What was the old adage about the only way two people could keep a secret was if one of them was dead? No one could ever know. That had been Abigail Stickling’s plan all along.

Con asked, “So, what’s this about? Why did you drive all this way to see me?”

“Well,” he began, opening his briefcase and arranging documents on the coffee table. “As you may or may not know, upon her death a year and a half ago, your aunt’s estate was placed in a sealed trust that came with very specific instructions for how and when it should be opened. Only myself; Hector Alonzo, the managing partner at Daniels Lovell; and Anne Friedman in Boston knew its terms.”

He paused dramatically, and Con had the impression that he had been rehearsing this moment for a long time.

“Its terms . . . ?” Con said helpfully. Apparently, she had a line here.

“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you,” the lawyer said grandly. “You are the sole heir of Abigail Stickling. She left you everything.”

Con felt her mouth fall open, and for the life of her, she was unable to close it again.

He seemed to enjoy her silence, mistaking it for delight and shock. After years of work, it probably felt good to be there at the end, the bearer of good news, believing he’d played a part in changing her life so completely. But what the lawyer mistook for happiness was Con realizing the full breadth of her aunt’s intentions. Abigail Stickling hadn’t left everything to her niece; she’d left everything to herself. If everything had gone to plan, it would be Abigail Stickling sitting here in Con’s body with her fortune returned to her and no one the wiser.

“When was this will written?” Con asked.

“Well, Ms. Stickling’s will went through many iterations, but this last version was completed only a few days before . . .” He trailed off, too polite to use the word suicide.

“How long was I the heir?”

The lawyer shifted in his seat and reached for his water. “Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to share that either.”

Con glanced at the fireplace and what lay beyond it. Stopping her aunt’s download might have been premature. Her penance would be never getting the answers to all of her questions. Some of which would torment her until her dying day. Fortunately, depending how you looked at it, that day wasn’t that far away. Con had cost herself the only chance she had at fixing the damage to her download. She hadn’t thought about it in those terms in the heat of the moment, but now found she wasn’t scared. And however and whenever the end came, she wouldn’t be broke when it did.

For the next two hours, she signed and initialed document after document. The lawyer talked the entire time, laying out the breadth of Abigail Stickling’s holdings and the complexities of her diverse portfolio of real estate, stocks, and businesses. Con, who had been poor her entire life, found it overwhelming. Much of the legalese she only understood in general terms, and he recommended hiring a financial adviser.

“You will also want to retain the services of at least one lawyer at your earliest convenience,” he said.

“Are you available, Bill? Or is that one of those conflicts-of-interest deals?”

He seemed taken aback by that. “No, it’s not, and yes, I could be. But perhaps it would be best to look around? One should not make hasty decisions in these matters.”

“No. My aunt trusted you. That’s good enough for me.” Perhaps her logic was twisted, but it was the truth. William Small didn’t know anything about his client’s scheme yet had done everything her aunt had asked of him. Loyally and without question. Even today, under the most bizarre of circumstances, he had followed his client’s wishes to the letter. It was the best audition that Con could imagine.

He smiled. “In that case, it would be my pleasure.”

“Do I have to retain you? Is there something I need to do?”

“You just did,” he answered with a grin. She thought she was going to like him. She’d never had a lawyer before.

“Cool. In that case, I have a couple of things I need you to do right away.”

“Oh?” he said, reaching for a legal pad. “Fire away.”

She described Levi Greer’s situation. With her aunt gone, there was no simple way to clear his name. She told her new lawyer that she wanted the best legal team that money could buy. Bill didn’t see it as a problem. They stood and shook hands.