These Tangled Vines(15)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fiona,” Ruth said warmly.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I replied.

Ruth leaned close to her mother and shouted in her ear, “She looks just like him, Mummy!”

Mabel frowned. “You don’t need to shout!”

“These are the lawyers,” Maria continued. “John Wainwright and Karen Miller.”

“A pleasure, Fiona,” Mr. Wainwright said. “Please take a seat, and we’ll get started.”

“Thank you.” I sat down next to Maria at the table.

The lawyers arranged their papers in front of them and shut off the ringers on their phones. My heart began to pound as I felt everyone’s eyes on me, staring with venom.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Wainwright said. “First of all, please accept our sincere condolences on the loss of a great man. He will be missed by everyone who knew him.”

“What a beautiful sentiment,” Connor said. “Thank you very much. We’re incredibly touched.”

Sloane slapped him on the shoulder, and I sensed an unease from everyone around the table. Even the lawyers seemed caught off guard by the interruption.

Mr. Wainwright cleared his throat and continued. “Mr. Clark’s will is dated December seventh, 2015, and it was completed by me, in the presence of Mr. Clark at our offices on Fenchurch Street in London.” He flipped a page. “So let us begin with the London properties. The house in Chelsea has been left to you, Mabel, along with three million pounds cash.”

Ruth squeezed her mother’s hand. “There, Mummy. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“The house on Eaton Square in Belgravia has been deeded to Connor and Sloane, as equal co-owners.”

“Oh, thank God,” Sloane said, her head falling forward onto the table with a noticeable clunk.

“See?” Connor said. “He knew how much you loved that house.”

“I guess he did,” she replied, sitting up again. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.” She looked sharply at me.

Mr. Wainwright turned to Maria. “As for the properties here in Tuscany . . . Maria Guardini, you have been bequeathed the house in which you currently reside, along with six hectares of land and two hundred thousand euros.”

Maria stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh, mio Dio! ”

“Really? You’re kidding me.” Connor seemed taken aback but also strangely amused. “Way to go, Maria. That’s awesome for you. Congrats.”

Sloane pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s wonderful, Maria. Well deserved.”

Ruth handed Maria a tissue, which she used to dab at her tears.

“Connor and Sloane,” Mr. Wainwright continued. “Out of the UK investment portfolio, your father has left you each three million pounds.”

“Excellent,” Connor said, sitting forward to rest his forearms on the table, his hands folded.

“Mrs. Wilson, he left you the Caravaggio painting that hangs over the fireplace in the main reception room.”

Kate laughed bitterly. “Really. I begged him to give me that in the divorce settlement, but he flat out refused.”

“Don’t complain, Mom,” Connor said. “You got it in the end.”

She sat back and folded her arms. “Well, I’m glad to finally have it. I’m the one who suggested that he bid on it.”

Mr. Wainwright flipped another page. “As for the business of Maurizio Wines, which includes the winery and all its inventory, buildings, and equipment, nine hundred hectares of land in Tuscany, and all its cash holdings—this has been bequeathed to Fiona Bell.”

What did he just say?

The room fell silent, and my mouth went dry.

“What?” Connor shouted.

As if in slow motion, Mr. Wainwright picked up another sheet of paper from his stack of notes and flipped it over. In a bewildered daze, I stared at that sheet, like a leaf floating on air.

Connor stood up and pressed his open hands to the top of his head. “Tell me you didn’t say what I think you said. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

The lawyer repeated himself, and everyone continued to stare at me.

“That can’t be right,” Sloane said, unconvinced. “Why would he leave everything to her?”

I sat motionless, unable to utter a single word.

Connor glared at me maliciously. “What the hell did you do?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still not accepting what was happening here. There had to be some mistake. Anton wouldn’t have left me everything .

“You heard me,” Connor replied. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I blurted out, defensively.

He turned his attention back to the lawyers. “This can’t be right.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Mr. Wainwright replied. “Your father was very clear about his final wishes.”

“With who?” Connor asked. “You? Were you there personally when he arrived at this decision?”

“No, but he was clear about it when he came to my office.”

Connor shook his head with disbelief. “Was he drunk?”

“No, he was altogether sober and in his right mind, I assure you.”