In my best judgment, we’re in for a bruising fight.”
“When is the Chicago will dated?” she asked, surprised she could ask such a coherent question in view of her simmering fury. “Did my father sign it before or after he signed the will in my mother’s possession?”
Cody cleared his throat again. “Well, that’s another of the odd things about the situation. The Chicago will is dated the precise same day as the one I drew up for your dad three years ago.”
“The same day?” Megan stared at him. “How could Dad have signed a will in Chicago at the same time as he’s signing one here in Wyoming? That’s crazy.” She experienced a flash of hope. “The Chicago will must be a forgery.”
“I don’t believe so. Like I said, your father’s signature looked authentic to me, and the will was properly witnessed and notarized. Have to say, too, that Fenwick Jaeger are too experienced a firm to mess up something as important as the date on a legal document.”
“Then how is it possible that both wills were signed the same day? Thatch and Chicago are fourteen hundred miles apart!”
“Well, it sure doesn’t seem like it could be chance,” Cody acknowledged. His expression suggested he’d prefer to be breaking stones on a chain gang rather than having this conversation. He coughed again. Constricted throat muscles seemed to be an inevitable accompaniment to people trying to discuss Ron Raven, Megan reflected bitterly.
“Guess your dad must have deliberately set out to ensure both wills got signed on the same day,” Cody said. “I checked my appointment calendar and your dad didn’t come in to my office until late in the afternoon—he was my last appointment. If Ron signed the Chicago will first thing in the morning he could have flown back to Jackson Hole and arrived here in Thatch just in time to sign another will in my office that same day. There’s a one-hour time difference between here and Chicago, remember.”
Why in the world would her father have done something as bizarre as sign two wills on the same day? Megan wondered. To cast doubts on the legitimacy of both wills so that his estate would have to be divided up among the two branches of his family by the courts? Or merely to ensure that he caused as much trouble and inconvenience as possible? From what she’d learned over the past few days, she was almost willing to believe the latter.
Cody tried to smile. “There’s one positive aspect of this situation. The will I drew up was signed later in the day than the one the Chicago lawyers have just sent me. Must have been. He couldn’t have arrived back in Chicago during business hours. Totally impossible, even by private jet. That means the will I drew up—the one in your mother’s possession—probably represents your father’s last will and testament—”
“And therefore it’s the one that will hold up in court?”’
“We’ll make the argument.” Cody lifted his shoulders in a defeated shrug. “The existence of another will signed on the same day suggests, at the very least, that your father was ambivalent about his wishes. Any probate judge is going to take the existence of the other will into account in deciding how to dispose of your father’s assets. But here is one more fact that’s in your mother’s favor. She’s your father’s first and legal wife. You and Liam are his legitimate children. That counts for something, even today. But, to be frank, not as much as it would have thirty years ago.”
“Don’t tell my mother about this other will,” Megan said. “Please, Cody, promise me that you won’t burden her with this right now. She’s still struggling to come to terms with all the other bombshells that have been lobbed at her over the past week. She doesn’t need to be worrying that she might lose the Flying W as well.”
“I can’t make that promise, Megan. Wish I could. But I’m your mother’s lawyer. I have an obligation to inform her of all legal developments in regard to her husband’s estate.”
“Give Liam and me a few days to decide how to proceed,” she pleaded. “We’ll fight the Chicago will, of course. Not for me, I don’t care. At this point, I’m not even sure that I want any of Dad’s money—” She broke off. “We need to fight for Mom’s sake. We can’t let the ranch go to…to the women in Chicago. That land’s been in my mother’s family for a hundred and forty years. It’s insane to suddenly hand it over to the child of her husband’s mistress!”
“Maybe not insane,” Cody said, avoiding her eyes. “But certainly vindictive.” He allowed the word to hang in the air, resonating painfully between the two of them.
It was almost as if her father had hated her mother, Megan reflected. Had he? Had he hated his Wyoming children, too? Had his bluff good cheer and seeming pride in her achievements concealed resentment? She closed her eyes, squeezing away the stupid tears that seemed determined to flow whenever and wherever it was most humiliating. She swallowed hard, forcing the tears to stop when she felt the light touch of Cody’s hand on her arm.
“Are you okay, Megan? Although that’s a damn-fool question under the circumstances.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Please don’t tell my mother about the other will.” She glanced across the room to Ellie, who was looking unspeakably weary as she attempted to keep up a conversation with Pastor Gruber and the choir director.
“I won’t tell Ellie today,” Cody conceded. “I can’t promise more than that. Tomorrow morning I plan to call Mr. Daniels at Fenwick Jaeger and explain that we believe we have Ron’s most recent will and that its terms vary substantially from the document he sent me. As soon as I’ve spoken to Mr. Daniels, I’ll be in touch with your mother. I have an obligation to report to her on the situation.”
Megan drew what comfort she could from the twenty-four-hour delay. “I’ll talk to Liam tonight and explain what you’ve told me. I’m sure he’ll call you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“If not, I’ll be stopping by at the ranch. Good day to you, Megan.” Cody touched his fingers once more to his nonexistent hat and walked away.
Five
Megan had known that Liam would be upset when he heard about the existence of another will, but she hadn’t anticipated the depth of his self-blame.
“It’s not your fault that Dad wrote a will leaving everything to the Chicago family,” she said when they finally managed a few moments alone on the porch. “For heaven’s sake, Liam, why are you responsible for the fact that Dad seems to have been pretty much a major asshole?”
“Because I knew about Avery Fairfax,” Liam said, leaning down to scratch Bruno’s belly. “I knew and I still kept Dad’s secrets. Dammit! I let him manipulate me precisely because I wanted to prevent this sort of thing happening—and now he’s screwed Mom over anyway. The son of a bitch must be laughing in hell.”
“I don’t think you get to laugh in hell,” Megan said. “That’s kind of the point.”
“He’ll be the exception.” Liam stared broodingly at a cloud of dust on the horizon. The dust resolved itself into a small panel truck, barreling down the driveway at a spanking pace.
“God, I hope that’s a reporter.” Liam got up from the swing. “I’m so in the mood to punch somebody out.”
Judging by his scowl, Megan was pretty sure her brother wasn’t joking. She ran down the porch steps in order to prevent him from
