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“You’re not Augustus Anders, by any chance?”
“Why yes, last I checked, I was indeed.” He smiled and dropped his eyes, rocking a bit on his feet as if he was bashful about delivering this news.
“We’re your appointment,” I told him. “You said you were in Suite 2A.”
“Oh, no. I’m in 2B.” He pointed to the clearly marked suite number on the door. He didn’t appear to be older than fifty or so, but I was starting to wonder if he might be losing a few marbles.
“I’m Addison Tanner, and this is Michael Tucker, and his...son?” Addie looked at me, uncertain.
“Daniel,” I confirmed. “It’s my week, so he had to come along.”
“Sorry to be such a burden,” Dan muttered.
“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it,” I told him. I could have phrased that better, but Dan knew how much I enjoyed having him.
Addie was smiling at him warmly, and even Daniel’s surly pre-teen heart seemed to feel the effects. “Nice to meet you, Dan,” she said. As my son smiled at Addison Tanner, a little twinge of admiration swelled in me for her. I liked people who spoke directly to my son instead of talking around him, like so many adults did to children.
“Well, well. Come in then,” said the lawyer. “Not sure why you didn’t just knock on my door.” He shook his head as if in disbelief at our stupidity. This was Mrs. Easter’s trusted attorney? I was becoming a little skeptical—he’d probably called the wrong people altogether. Of course Mrs. Easter did not leave anything in trust for me. She barely knew me. This guy had made a mistake—it appeared he might make them regularly.
We followed him into a small lobby and then through a door to an office with a window overlooking the square below. It was a nice view, and for a second I wondered what it would be like, to have an office job, to have chosen for myself. But as Anders settled himself behind the desk, his roly-poly physique propping him in his cushioned chair, I realized that a little hard work was probably good for me.
“Sit please,” he said, motioning to the chairs. Addison, Dan and I sat down. Addison seemed nervous, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“As you know then, we are here to discuss the trust set up for the two of you by Mrs. Filene Easter,” he began.
A noise of surprise escaped Addison before she turned to give me a wide-eyed look, confusion clear on her face, “What?”
“Yes, yes,” the lawyer said, waving away this interruption.
“Wait,” Addison said, leaning forward and dropping a hand on the edge of his desk. “This is about Mrs. Easter? A trust?”
He looked at her as if she were a curiosity, something he hadn’t encountered before, blinking his big eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. “Why yes, didn’t I mention that on the phone?”
“Yes,” I said, at the same exact moment that Addison said, “No, you definitely did not.”
Then she slumped back in her chair, one hand resting over her mouth as if she could contain whatever sorrow might fly out. “Oh, poor Mrs. Easter. But a trust? Why would she leave anything to us?”
“Filene was ninety-three years old,” the lawyer said. “Natural causes, Ms. Tanner. Nothing to worry about.”
Addison nodded, still looking sad. I had felt a little down on hearing the news too, but the guy had a point. Ninety-three wasn’t exactly a shocking age at which to die. Only, she had seemed pretty spry last week.
“May I continue?” The lawyer looked between us. Suddenly Anders looked like a guy who had thirty clients waiting in the lobby and no time for this type of interruption.
“Sure,” Dan said, clearly eager to hear about the Corvettes coming our way.
“Mrs. Easter visited me just last Monday to set up this trust,” Anders said. “Very strange, really. She’d had no direct descendants, so had previously had plans to disburse her belongings to various charitable organizations—the Institute for Tasteful Taxidermy, the Chocolate Lab Rescue of Southern Maryland, and the like.
“However, last week she popped by and made a significant change to her final wishes, and that’s what I’d like to discuss with you now.” He looked up at us as if waiting for permission.
“Ah, okay?” I tried.
“Yeah, I guess,” Addison said.
Dan was practically bouncing in his chair. “Settle,” I whispered, and he stilled.
I hated myself for it, but the idea of having some unexpected cash to put toward the business wasn’t a completely unwelcome idea. I needed to build some extra space to house the growing custom furniture selection, and I knew if I could merchandise it correctly, I just might be able to shift the focus of the business. Farm supplies weren’t really my passion, but seeing the furniture I’d made by hand heading out the door to sit in people’s homes? That was what I wanted.
“Ahem.” Augustus cleared his throat and began to read. “This document represents the statement of the trust of Filene Josephine Tucker Easter.”
