paperboy continued to deliver despite the fact no one had picked the newspapers up for ten days.
Ten days: a crack appeared in the wall of his control. He sealed it ruthlessly.
Inside all was still, not even neighborhood sounds penetrated the old house. He went left through the entrance hall with its graceful double staircase, to the library on the west side of the house. There he sat in his old chair. He was still there when he heard the faint ring of the front door chimes.
Now we go back to the world, he thought, as he got up slowly and headed back to the front of the house.
George Duplessis, his friend of fifteen years, hadn't come alone.
"Come in, George." They shook hands and looked each other over. It had been three years.
"Gilbert, I brought some professional help. This is Manuel Abril." While they shook hands, George went on, "Manny has his own firm. He and I have been involved in a number of cases over the years. Whenever I really want to know the law, I call him. I usually learn more in a day than I would in a year at Harvard."
Abril was one of the most unusual men Gilbert had ever seen. A few inches over five feet, his head was a massive block, covered with wavy black hair graying at the temples; large black eyes under shelving brows divided by a proud nose that could have graced a Roman coin.
As Gilbert led them back toward the library, George continued to explain. "You remember, Gilbert, I'm patent law, very specialized. I know all the basics from school, but Manny is civil and he's the best."
Manny turned to Gilbert after a careful look around the grand proportions of the room.
"I'd like to make my fee this library, but something tells me you wouldn't agree. So tell us what you want done, Mr. Piers."
Gilbert handed him the telegram. Abril read it quickly and handed it to George.
"I have no idea how my mother died, where she is buried, nothing. I didn't want to stay at Eaver's office to find out; I might have done something foolish. I want you to find out everything, every detail. That includes getting Eaver's story, any medical records that may be pertinent, everything, Mr. Abril."
Abril nodded. "May I sit; my legs aren't what they were."
"Damn! I'm sorry. I'm not usually so thoughtless."
George and Abril sat on a Georgian couch, slightly dusty with disuse.
"I'm sure you aren't, Mr. Piers. Don't be concerned. Please go on with what it is you want us to do."
"I would also like to retain your firm, specifically you, as my family lawyer. In that capacity I want you to review everything concerning my mother's estate; finances, property, the lot." Gilbert handed him a piece of paper.
"This is my accountant; he was also my mother's accountant. Was also..." He'd been speaking quietly and his voice faded out all together. He sat helplessly trying to think what else to say.
"I understand what you want." Abril's voice was firm and kind.
Gilbert stood then, massaging his arms nervously and walked over to the fireplace, seeking a place of habitual warmth even though there was none there.
"My mother's estate is large. She was a shrewd investor, in fact, both of my parents were. I want to be sure nothing...irregular has happened to the estate. That's all I can think of right now."
"Fine, I'll have my people get on it right away. There's been enough delay. It'll be a few days. In the meantime, if I may, sir, I'd like to send someone around to help with the cleaning, cooking and getting things in order. They could come in the morning and stay as long as it takes, if you approve. They are members of my family, quite trustworthy," Manny said.
"Yes, that would be a help, thank you very much," Gilbert, said.
"It's nothing, happy to do it. George has agreed that I take over here; however you did call him first. I can work on this through his firm as a consultant if you wish." He wanted to be fair.
"George, what do you want to do?" Gilbert asked.
"Oh, let Manny do the whole thing. He'll do a damn sight better job than me. I'd be happy to be your lawyer, but to tell the truth he'll be more effective if he has full control."
"Okay, whatever you say."
They had him sign a variety of papers, powers of attorney, and the like, giving access to the complete range of the family's affairs.
When they were gone, Gilbert sat for a long time, and then went up to his old room, had a long bath and went to bed.
To all outward appearances, Gilbert Austin Piers III was a modern man of the nineties: Quieter than most, better educated, and certainly more civilized. He was all of those things, and much more, he believed in balance.
The next morning after the meeting with the lawyers, the widows Marguerite Abril and Hortenzia Gonzaga arrived promptly at eight o'clock. Gilbert, back on his old schedule, had been up since six.
They introduced themselves as cousins of Senor Abril. They were two older women of 'size', who could have mothered a regiment. They quickly set about organizing the house and Gilbert's life with the efficiency of women who have run large households of their own. The house was soon spotless, clothes clean and pressed; food everywhere, dishes of fruit on sideboards and tables; cookies, cakes and rolls wherever he turned. He estimated there were enough calories spread around the house to beef up every skinny kid in the city.
He began to enjoy their noises, the clatter of pots and pans, and their busy passage through the house. They sang love songs in Spanish and English, redolent with heartbreak and forbidden passion.
When they weren't singing they chattered endlessly of the wonderful and terrible things that would happen if they were ever alone with Julio Iglesias. Gilbert could have told them exactly what would happen, but didn't. Poor Julio would gain forty pounds and lay about the house like a beached walrus, never to sing again.
A week later, the call came from Mr. Abril in the morning, his voice neutral, the feeling of deliberately suppressed emotions implicit.
"Mr. Piers, I'd like to come by now if I may. I have a preliminary report to make."
"That's fine, Mr. Abril." Gilbert knew it wasn't going to be easy. Abril was being very formal, very much the lawyer.
He showed up half an hour later with two large leather briefcases. Gilbert took him directly to the library and Hortenzia followed with a pot of fresh coffee. Gilbert sat on the sofa. Mr. Abril pulled up a chair nearby, and began to remove papers from one of the cases and lay them out in piles on a low table.
He sat for a moment looking at the papers, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"First, I'll cover the practical things. It's somewhat out of sequence, but please bear with me. I have everything from Eaver's office. By the way, he was acting independently. None of the other partners were aware of your return, the telegram, none of it. He's the son of old Duncan Eavers, your family lawyer for forty years. The old fellow died two years ago and the son took over.
"Mr. Wilson, the senior partner, would naturally like to repair the damage. He sends his apologies and condolences on everyone's behalf. He
