These Tangled Vines(17)

With a sudden burst of anger, Connor flung himself out of his chair, knocking it over, and strode to the window, where he stood with his hands on his hips, looking out. Everyone sat in silence, except for Sloane.

“He didn’t give the letters to you for safekeeping?” she asked. “As evidence or something?”

“Evidence concerning one’s final wishes isn’t required for the writing of a will,” Mr. Wainwright explained, doing his best, I thought, not to sound condescending.

“But he kept everything,” Sloane replied. “Didn’t he, Maria? I don’t want to use the word hoarder , but he had trouble throwing things away. Obviously, these letters must have been important to him. They must be here somewhere.”

Connor turned to face Mr. Wainwright. “What if this woman, Lillian Bell, was blackmailing him? That would be grounds for us to contest the will, wouldn’t it?”

Mr. Wainwright turned in his chair. “Yes, it would be if that were the case. But you would have to prove it.”

Connor strode forward. “If it’s not blackmail, what other grounds would be necessary to overturn it? Undue influence? Duress? Fraud?”

“Yes, to all of those,” Mr. Wainwright replied, “but your father gave no indication that he was being manipulated.”

“Maybe he didn’t realize it. Or if it was blackmail, he would have wanted to keep it under wraps for whatever reason.”

Mr. Wainwright faced him squarely. “Connor, you can’t contest a will with allegations like these simply because you feel it’s unfair. There must be a valid legal reason, and to suggest what you are suggesting . . . you would need evidence to prove it. Compelling evidence.”

“But you just said there were letters,” Connor replied as he turned to everyone at the table. “I can tell all of you right now—I’m going to start asking some tough questions around here. Someone must know something.” He pointed at me. “She probably does.”

“I don’t,” I replied.

He chuckled bitterly. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t tell us, not when you stand to inherit all of this.” He gave me a seething look before he headed for the door. “I’m calling my lawyer.”

Sloane stood up too. “That sounds like something I should be doing as well.” She followed him out of the room.

Maria let out a breath. “Here we go.” She sat forward and turned to the lawyers. “May I ask, Mr. Wainwright, if this will is overturned . . . is there an earlier will that would take its place?”

“Yes, there is,” he replied. “It was filed about ten years ago.”

“And did the children get the winery in that will?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” She paused and fiddled with an earring. “Please forgive me. I don’t know how to ask this question without sounding self-serving, but in that version of the will, was the little villa left to me? And the money?”

He paused. “I’m afraid it was not. That was a recent addition made in the current will.”

Her shoulders slumped a little, and in that moment, I suspected I had an ally, because Maria would not wish to lose what Anton had bequeathed to her. For the first time since my arrival in Tuscany, I didn’t feel quite so alone.





CHAPTER 5


SLOANE


“How could he have done this?” Sloane asked when Connor ended the call to his lawyer and pitched his cell phone onto the sofa in his bedroom. “We’re his own children. She’s just some person he never even met. Did he hate us, Connor? Is that it? Is he punishing us because we didn’t visit him often enough? Or was he trying to get back at Mom for what he lost in the divorce? Because she did take him to the cleaners. She admits it with pride.”

Connor paced. “It’s not as if Fiona came here to suck up to him. No way. There’s something else going on here. She’s coming off way too innocent.” He thought about it for a moment, then waved his hands in the air and spoke in a high voice. “Oh, look at me. I’m a purehearted angel who knows nothing about my mother’s slutty life before I was born. I don’t know why in the world your father would leave everything to little ole me.” Connor sneered. “Give me a break.”

“She did seem overly defensive,” Sloane replied. “She had a guilty look in her eye.” Sloane sank onto a chair, buried her face in her hands, and exhaled heavily. “This isn’t how I thought this day would go. I thought I would have a soft place to land in case things don’t work out with Alan. You know what it’s been like lately. I thought I could pack up the kids and move here to live, maybe travel back and forth between here and London. Start fresh.”

Connor swung around. “Oh, come on. You’re never going to leave Alan, and you know it.”

Feeling like she had nothing left to lose, Sloane lifted her watery gaze. “I think he’s having an affair.”

Connor stared at her for a few seconds, then laughed. “Seriously, Sloane? Like this is a surprise to you?”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“I’m not being a jerk. You knew he was a womanizer when you married him. And you must have known he was marrying you for this .” Connor gestured toward the vineyards outside the window. “So don’t pretend to be some innocent little virgin housewife who didn’t know any better.”