Gray Mountain: A Novel(94)

Mattie nodded along, acknowledging the obvious fact that Jonah had paid for some quick legal advice. And why would he pay a lawyer for advice and not for a new will? Because Francine wouldn’t agree to a new will. “How do you know she destroyed it?” she asked.

Euna Faye said, “She told me last week.”

Irma said, “Told me too. Said she burned it in the fireplace.”

DeLoss added, “And we’ve looked everywhere and can’t find it.”

It was all very well rehearsed, and as long as the five stuck together, the story would hold up. On cue, Lonnie asked, “And so if there’s no will, then we get the land in five equal shares, right?”

“I suppose,” Mattie said. “I’m not sure what position the Mountain Trust will take.”

Jonah growled, “You tell the Mountain Trust to get lost, you hear? Hell, they never knew about our property until y’all brought ’em in. This is our family land, always has been.”

His four siblings agreed wholeheartedly.

In a flash, Samantha switched teams. If Francine had in fact destroyed the will, or if these five were lying and there was no way to prove otherwise, then give them the damned eighty acres and say good-bye. The last thing she wanted was a will contest between the Crumps and the Mountain Trust, with her as the star witness taking flak from both sides. She never wanted to see these people again.

Nor did Annette and Mattie. They switched too, with Mattie saying, “Look, folks, we as lawyers will not try and probate the will. That’s not our job. I doubt seriously if the Mountain Trust wants to get bogged down in a protracted will contest. The legal fees will cost more than the land is worth. If there’s no will, then there’s no will. Y’all need to find a lawyer who’ll open the estate and get an administrator appointed.”

“Do y’all do that?” Jonah asked.

All three lawyers recoiled in horror at the notion of representing these people. Annette managed to speak first, “Oh, no, we can’t because we prepared the will.”

“But it’s pretty routine stuff,” Mattie added quickly. “Almost any lawyer along Main Street can do it.”

Euna Faye actually smiled and said, “Well, thanks.”

Lonnie asked, “And we split it five ways, right?”

Mattie said, “That’s the law, but you need to check with your lawyer.” Lonnie was shifty-eyed to begin with, and he was already looking around the room. They would be fighting before they left Brady. And there were relatives waiting outside, ready to pounce on all that coal money.

They left in peace, and when the front door closed behind the last one, the three lawyers felt like celebrating. They locked the door, kicked off their shoes, and piled into the conference room for a late afternoon sip of wine and a lot of laughs. Annette attempted to describe the scene of the first one home, rummaging through the house in a desperate search for that damned will. Then the second, then the third. Their mother was on the slab at the funeral home and they were knocking over furniture and dumping out drawers in a frantic search. If they found it, they certainly burned it.

Not one of the three lawyers believed Francine actually destroyed her will.

And they were right. The original arrived in the mail the following day, with a note from Francine asking Samantha to please protect it.

The Crumps would be back after all.





30


For the third year in a row, Karen Kofer spent Christmas in New York City with her daughter. She had a close friend from college whose third husband was an aging industrialist, now sidelined by dementia and tucked away in a plush retirement home in Great Neck. Their rambling apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooked Central Park and was practically deserted. Karen was given her own suite for the week and treated like a queen. Samantha was offered one too, but chose instead to stay with Blythe in their apartment in SoHo. The lease expired on December 31, and she needed to pack her things and make arrangements to store furniture. Blythe, still hanging on at the world’s fourth-largest law firm, was moving in with two friends in Chelsea.

After three months in Brady, Samantha felt liberated in the city. She shopped with her mother in midtown, battling the crowds but enjoying the frenetic energy. She had late afternoon drinks with friends in all the right, trendy bars, and, while enjoying the scene, found herself bored with the conversation. Careers, real estate, and the Great Recession. Karen sprang for two tickets to a Broadway musical, a rage that was nothing more than a made-for-tourists rip-off. They left at intermission and got a table at Orso. Samantha had brunch with an old Georgetown pal at Balthazar, where the friend almost squealed as she pointed out a famous TV actor Samantha had never seen nor heard of. She took long, solitary walks through lower Manhattan. Christmas dinner was a feast at the Fifth Avenue apartment with a bunch of strangers, though after a lot of wine the conversation loosened up and an ordeal became a riot that went on for hours. Samantha slept in a spare bedroom, one bigger than her apartment, and woke up with a mild hangover. A uniformed maid brought her orange juice, coffee, and ibuprofen. She had lunch with Henry, who had been pestering her, and realized they had nothing in common. He was assuming she would be back in the city in the near future and was eager to rekindle something. She tried to explain that she wasn’t sure when she would return. There was no job waiting for her, and now no apartment. Her future was uncertain, as was his. He’d given up on acting and was considering an entry into the exciting world of hedge fund management. An odd choice these days, she thought. Aren’t those guys bleeding cash and dodging indictments? His undergraduate degree from Cornell was in Arabic. He was headed to nowhere and she would not waste another minute with him.