Before the Fall(35)

So, thinks Eleanor, not a lawyer.

“I’ve worked out a basic financial structure to cover monthly expenses and education projections, which I’d be happy to review with you at your convenience.”

Eleanor risks a look at Doug. He is, in fact, smiling. He nods at her.

“And I’m—” says Eleanor, “—I’m the executor of the trust. Me?”

“Yes,” says Page, “unless you decide you do not wish to carry out the responsibilities afforded to you, in which case Mr. and Mrs. Bateman named a successor.”

She feels Doug stiffen beside her at the idea of passing all that money on to some kind of runner-up.

“No,” says Eleanor, “he’s my nephew. I want him. I just need to be clear. I’m the one named in the trust, not—”

She flicks her eyes toward her husband. Page catches the look.

“Yes,” he says. “You are the named guardian and executor.”

“Okay,” she says, after a beat.

“Over the next few weeks I’ll need you to come in and sign some more papers—and by come in, I mean we can come to you. Some will need to be notarized. Did you want the keys to the various properties today?”

She blinks, thinking about her sister’s apartment, now a museum filled with all the things she will never need again—clothes, furniture, the refrigerator filled with food, the children’s rooms heavy with books and toys. She feels her eyes well with tears.

“No,” she says. “I don’t think—”

She stops to collect herself.

“I understand,” says Page. “I’ll have them sent to your house.”

“Maybe somebody could collect JJ’s things, from his room? Toys and books. Clothes. He probably, I don’t know, maybe that would help him.”

The woman to Page’s left makes a note.

“Should you decide to sell any or all of the properties,” says Cutter, “we can help you with that. Fair market value for the three combined is around thirty million, last time I checked.”

“And does that money go into the trust,” says Doug, “or—”

“That money would fold in with the current funds available to you.”

“So ten million becomes forty million.”

“Doug,” says Eleanor, more sharply than she intended.

The lawyers pretend not to have heard.

“What?” her husband says. “I’m just—clarifying.”

She nods, unclenching her fists and stretching her hands under the table.

“Okay,” she says, “I feel like I should get back. I don’t want to leave JJ alone too long. He’s not really sleeping that well.”

She stands. Across the table, the group stands as one. Only Doug is left in his chair, daydreaming.

“Doug,” she says.

“Yeah, right,” he says and stands, then stretches his arms and back like a cat waking from a long nap in the sun.

“Are you driving back?” Cutter asks.

She nods.

“I don’t know what car you’re in, but the Batemans owned several, including a family SUV. These are also available to you, or can be sold. It’s whatever you want.”

“I just—” says Eleanor, “I’m sorry. I can’t really make any decisions right now. I just need to—think or take it all in or—”

“Of course. I’ll stop asking questions.”

Cutter puts his hand on her shoulder. He is a thin man with a kind face.

“Please know that David and Maggie were more than just clients. We had daughters the same age, and—”

He stops, his eyes filling, then nods. She squeezes his arm, grateful to find something human in this moment. Beside her, Doug clears his throat.

“What kind of cars did you say again?” asks Doug.

*



She is quiet on the ride home. Doug smokes the other half of the pack, window down, making calculations with his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I say keep the town house, right?” he says. “A place in the city. But, I don’t know, are we really going to go back to the Vineyard? I mean, after what happened?”

She doesn’t answer, just lays her head against the headrest and looks out at the treetops.

“And London,” he says, “I mean, that could be cool. But how often are we really going to—I say we sell it and then if we want to go we can always stay in a hotel.”

He rubs his beard, like a miser in a children’s story, suddenly rich.

“It’s JJ’s money,” she says.

“Right,” says Doug, “but, I mean, he’s four, so—”

“It’s not about what we want.”

“Babe—okay, I know—but the kid’s used to a certain—and we’re his guardians now.”

“I’m his guardian.”

“Sure, legally, but we’re a family.”

“Since when?”

His lips purse and she can feel him swallow an impulse to snap back.

He says:

“I mean, okay, I know I haven’t been—but it’s a shock, you know? This whole—and I know for you too. I mean, more than me, but—well, I want you to know I’m past all that shit.”