out of work?” she inquired, brows drawn together in a distressed frown. “It was Grant Gallagher who put the whole thing together. Just marched in there, cleaned shop and sent all the jobs overseas. Claimed outsourcing was in the shareholders’ best interests. He couldn’t have cared less about the people who’d given their lives to the company. He just wanted to fill his goddamn pocketbook. It made me sick.”
“Wow! And you mean to tell me that he’s the heir to Rowena’s hundred million?” Tracy’s eyes popped and she let out a huff. “Jeez, it’s not like he even needs the money.”
“Exactly. Now you understand why I’m not too thrilled at having to contact the guy about his windfall. Which, by the way, brings me to what I wanted to ask you. I really can’t leave town right now. The kids are involved in so many activities. Zack has that dental treatment coming up. I was wondering whether you wouldn’t—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Tracy raised her hand like a vigilant traffic cop. “I’m tied up to the gills in the Fairbairn affair.”
Meredith was about to protest, then let out a sigh. It was true that Tracy was carrying an impossibly heavy load. Plus, deep down, she knew the duty was hers. “Okay,” she said, a sigh escaping her as she scooped up the papers. “I guess I’ll have to get on with it. Maybe I can avoid a trip. I’ll write him first and pave the way. There are a couple addresses in the file.”
“That’s a good start. Send Mr. Gallagher a registered letter requesting a conference call. Don’t go into too much detail in writing.” Tracy rose and paused at the door. “By the way, have you told the others?”
“Not yet,” Meredith answered in a hollow voice.
“And what about Dallas? She still refusing to leave Providence?”
“Yep. She’s refusing to come to the reading of the will. She’s playing the proud princess, saying she doesn’t care. She’s already told me that she wouldn’t touch Rowena’s money, anyway—not that she knows what kind of money we’re talking about, of course. It’s unfair that she stands to lose so much and that such a creature will inherit what he can’t possibly need. I can’t fathom why Rowena would do this, I really can’t,” she insisted, shaking her head. “I just wish I wasn’t the executor of the will and could advise Dallas to contest.”
“Hardly appropriate,” Tracy murmured, sucking in her cheeks, as she was prone to do. “Dallas is a strong-willed young woman. She’ll live. It’s a pity her father left quite a bit of debt when he died several months ago. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Doug Thornton did indeed leave her that,” Meredith said, nodding. “Which makes this decision of Rowena’s even more unacceptable.”
“Honey, I haven’t the faintest idea why she did this, but knowing your client I’d bet big money there’s a good reason. Maybe you should visit Dallas and see Doug’s stud farm in the process. Beautiful place, apparently,” she added. Then, glancing at the file in her hand, she murmured, “Thought at all about what approach you’ll take with Gallagher?”
“No, I have not.” Meredith bristled. “I’ll wait for him to reply to my letter first. Until then I’ll concentrate on the Carstairs gang.” She grimaced. “The meeting’s set up for this afternoon.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll need it. Don’t be surprised if I end up in Intensive Care.”
“Because of Joanna, you mean?” Tracy wiggled a brow expressively. “Don’t worry. If Rowena’s niece acts up, I’ll be down the hallway.”
“Nice thought, old buddy,” Meredith grinned, “but you don’t really believe the Carstairs crowd would lower themselves to coming to this modest office, do you?”
“No, probably not.” She chuckled. “So where is the meeting?”
“Rowena’s town house. She wanted it that way.”
“Jesus. Talk about turning the knife in the wound,” Tracy exclaimed. “Hasn’t Joanna believed for years that she was going to inherit that place?”
“Don’t remind me.” Meredith gave a hollow laugh.
“Well, call if you need me to send in the National Guard.”
“I’ll be fine.” Meredith gave a thumbs-up. Trace really could be counted on. But right now what she needed was someone to take Zack to the dentist later today. First braces, she thought with a sigh, lifting the phone and dialing her mother in the hopes that Clarice Rowland would be able to help her out. Only God knew how long the meeting might last.
“What do you mean we’re to get nothing?!” Joanna Carstairs Lamont blanched, her surgically lifted features tightening with rage. “We are the rightful heirs. Each and every one of us is owed a share of that money,” she insisted, waving her index finger wildly. “Surely you’ve got it wrong, Meredith.”
“Look, I had nothing to do with this, okay? I’m sorry you’re all disappointed. I really can’t tell you why Rowena structured her will as she has, since I didn’t draft it. But it’s all here, and her wishes are quite clear.”
She glanced round the exquisitely appointed drawing room, knowing as she glimpsed at their pale, stunned faces what a blow this must be.
“But we have rights,” Joanna spluttered. “Charles, say something, for Christ’s sake, don’t just sit there like a beached whale. My God. This is a disaster.” She sank heavily into a deep chintz armchair and muttered under her breath.
“I’m sure something can be done about it.” Charles, a middle-aged well-to-do doctor, swallowed uneasily. He hoped he sounded convincing—he was still absorbing the shock of the announcement and its implications. In a few short sentences Meredith had blighted his most cherished dream.
“Surely the will could be contested?” Patricia, Rowena’s youngest half sister, a pious, soberly attired widow of seventy, replied, eyeing her son Ward, who was humming quietly to himself, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“That’s certainly within your rights,” Meredith responded carefully, “but I must caution you that there would be serious consequences if your challenge failed. There is a clause here to the effect that anyone who sees fit to contest the will loses his or her right to the income of the trust she set up for you a few years ago.”
“The bitch!” Joanna screeched. “The goddamn bitch! I should have guessed that she would double-cross us and done something about it while she was still alive.”
“You certainly tried.” Charles eyed her coldly. “In fact, I distinctly remember you asking me to be part of the team that would certify her insanity.”
“You did what?” Meredith asked, looking from one to the other. It was her turn to be shocked. “Rowena may have been eccentric but she was anything but crazy. Anyway,” she continued, flipping through the paperwork and pointing to several documents, “she seems to have planned for that contingency. She had several medical examinations certifying the state of her health before she wrote this final will.”
“But it’s outrageous.” Joanna rounded on Charles, her chin jutting out defiantly. “And so what if I did try to have her certified? I’ll bet in view of this you all wish you’d agreed to it instead of being so
