“Maybe she’s not the one I’m worried about.”
********
I glance at my watch again. Along with Tanny, myself and my father, there are various other attorneys and representatives present. We are all waiting, albeit impatiently, for Malcolm’s lawyer to arrive. He’s nearly twenty minutes late already. At this rate, I’ll be leaving before he even gets here.
Across the table, I see my father glance at his watch within seconds of me glancing at mine. I resist the urge to curl my lip at our likeness. I don’t want to be anything like him. But I am. I know I am. To some degree, it was inevitable. I learned from him. From watching him, listening to him, being around him. It’s times like this when I see the similarities and I abhor every single one of them. I just haven’t yet found a good enough reason to change things. After all, Henslow Spencer is very successful. And, at this point, that’s my biggest motivator—having more, achieving more, being more. Just…more.
With a muffled thump, the door behind me opens. I don’t turn to see who entered. I just know it had better be the lawyer or I’m outta here.
A robust man wearing a wool jacket with leather on the elbows makes his way to the only empty chair at the round mahogany table. He sets his briefcase atop it, making eye contact with each of us and nodding a silent greeting. After he’s retrieved a thick manila folder from inside his case, he snaps shut the locks and sets it on the floor, clearing his throat before he begins.
“Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. There were some…last-minute details that needed my attention, but now I’m ready to execute this, the last will and testament of Malcolm Henry Spencer.”
No one speaks as he opens the folder and rifles through papers, pulling out one document with a light blue backing.
As he begins formally reading the will, I suppress the urge to sigh in bored frustration. It’s not that I’m not grateful for whatever my uncle Malcolm left me. I was closer to him than practically anybody for the first half of my life. It’s just that I have other things—and other people—on my mind, making it hard for me to sit patiently through something like this when I’d much rather be sitting across from Kennedy. Watching her. Studying her. Formulating a plan for getting her back in my bed with the greatest speed.
Mr. Bingham gets my full attention with the mention of my name.
“In deference to Mr. Harrison Spencer’s departure schedule, I’ll begin with the family estate known to all as Bellano. Per Malcolm’s wishes, ‘The estate will be left, in equal parts ownership, to my nephew, Harrison Ronaldo Spencer, or his closest living relative, and Mary Elizabeth Spencer or her closest living relative. All decisions regarding the grounds, the estate holdings and the upkeep will be made jointly, with the exception of the presence of Mrs. Judith E. Tannenbaum, whom I hereby grant a life estate at Bellano’.”
When Bingham pauses to continue, hushed whispers break out around the table. I’m as surprised as everyone else to hear that Malcolm left Bellano to me, but, also like everyone else, I’m very surprised to hear of a female Spencer relative being named as well. Since its existence, Bellano has never been left to a woman, much less one who no one has ever heard of.
It’s my father who finally asks the question on everyone’s mind. “Who, exactly, is Mary Elizabeth Spencer?”
Mr. Bingham glances nervously around the table. “Malcolm had this codicil drawn up just weeks prior to his death. I was out of town, so my partner did the work for him. Unfortunately, being unfamiliar with the family, he didn’t get any more information on Ms. Spencer, so I’m still in the process of locating her.”
“Well, you’d better make quick work of it, Bingham, because if you can’t produce this supposed heir, a woman with whom none of us are familiar, you can bet your ass I’ll be contesting this will. Bellano is the Spencer family home, and it will stay with the real Spencers if I have to take it to the Supreme Court to see that it does.”
I catch movement from the corner of my eye and glance over to see Tanny drop her head and close her eyes. I’m sure she’s thinking it’s a shame that grown men have to act like this only days after the death of a loved one. And over possessions, no less. It makes me feel ashamed for being so much like my father.
“Mr. Spencer, I assure you—”
“I don’t trust that you can assure me of anything, Mr. Bingham,” my father snaps.
I look at Tanny’s pale face again and it spurs me into action.
“Mr. Bingham, will that be all the need you have of me or Mrs. Tannenbaum? If so, I think we’d both like to get on with our plans for the day.” The least I can do is spare Tanny any more of this unpleasantness. “Please forward copies of the will to my attorney. You have his information already, I believe.”
When I glance back at Tanny, she’s watching me with watery, grateful eyes. I smile at her and she gives me a subtle, regal nod of acknowledgment.
“Yes, I do. And yes, this is the only part that pertains to either of you. It’s my understanding that Malcolm has already given to Mrs. Tannenbaum any of his possessions that he wanted her to have. Is that accurate, Mrs. Tannenbaum?”
“Yes, it is,” comes her quiet reply.
No one in the room argues. Whatever Malcolm saw fit to give Tanny is still probably less than she deserves for staying with him all these years. Even my cold, hard father knows that.
“In that case, I think we’ll be on our way.” I stand and walk to Tanny’s chair, pulling it back as she comes to her feet. “Gentleman.” I give the room a glancing nod and then I escort Tanny out the door.
Once we’ve left the study and all the tension there behind us, I turn to Tanny. “Do you know who this Mary Elizabeth is? Did Malcolm ever mention her?”
Tanny raises her face to mine and I notice how ashen she is. “Harrison, would you mind if I went to lie down? I believe I might have a migraine coming on. Just the stress of the last few days…”
She lays a shaking hand on my arm and starts to walk off, even before I can reply. Bending, I sweep her into my arms. “I’ll carry you,” I tell her simply, walking the short distance down the hall to her room at the back of the house, nearest Malcolm’s.
It looks just like it did when I was last here all those years ago. Antique furnishings covered in faded rose-and-cream colored fabrics, a fresh flower arrangement sitting on the dresser and a book lying on the night table right beside her reading glasses. Everything in this room is elegant, womanly and one hundred percent Tanny.