скачать книгу бесплатно
Cleta squealed and grabbed the white bear with a red ribbon around its neck.
“Aw, Dad, I’m too big for a teddy bear,” Tim said, but he picked up the large brown bear.
Smiling, Allison said, “Looks like I’m left with the black one. Thanks a lot, Dad.” She didn’t want to dim her father’s joy by not being appreciative, but she was concerned about Beatrice’s attitude. What had happened in Columbus to distress her mother? How could she be mourning for a brother with whom she’d had so little contact for years?
Tucking the brown bear under his arm, Tim said, “The bear is nice, Dad, but I’m interested in other things. Give us the scoop. How much did we get?”
Charles dropped his head, refusing to look at his children. Beatrice stared at the floor, her face ashen, so it was easy to guess from their dismay that the Sayres hadn’t been mentioned in the will. Cleta and Tim certainly looked woebegone, but Allison wasn’t surprised. Was she the only one in the family who hadn’t expected a windfall? Crushed as she had been by Donald’s perfidy, Allison hadn’t given any thought to Uncle Harrison’s illness and his subsequent death.
With a sigh, Beatrice fastened her eyes on her son. “You didn’t get anything!” She pulled a large envelope from her purse. “According to Harrison’s lawyer, with the exception of a few bequests to some of his employees, my brother bequeathed his entire estate to Allison. He gave us a copy of the will.” She started to hand the document to Allison, but Tim grabbed it from his mother’s hand.
“But why Allison? Why her and not me?”
Charles took the will from Tim and gave it to Allison, whose hand was shaking so badly she couldn’t hold the envelope and it dropped to the floor.
“Harrison must have had his reasons, but he didn’t choose to tell us. Stop being selfish and congratulate your sister for her good fortune,” Charles said.
“Well, if I can’t have it, I’m glad that he chose Allison instead of Cleta. You’ll divide with me, won’t you, Allison? Cleta never would. How much is his estate worth?”
“We don’t know. Since neither Beatrice nor I was named in the will, we had no right to inquire. Harrison’s lawyer did give us that copy of the will, but Allison will have to go to Columbus to find out all the details.”
Allison felt as if she were observing the scene in their living room from another sphere. Beatrice looked as though she would burst into tears at any minute, and that troubled Allison. Had Beatrice herself expected the money? Charles watched his wife with anxious eyes. Tim wore a petulant expression. A broad smile brightened Cleta’s face.
After Allison’s first wave of surprise passed, an excitement started building within, and she picked up the envelope, opened it and began to read the will, noting immediately that the document had been validated three years ago on her twenty-first birthday.
“Isn’t that a coincidence!” she exclaimed. “Signed on my birthday. Uncle Harrison couldn’t have known that.”
No one answered, and she continued to read. After she passed the introductory legal jargon, the wording was very simple. Five people were listed for bequests based on a percentage of Harrison’s total estate, with the balance to be given to “my niece Allison Sayre.” This balance included the Page Publishing Company, a home in Victorian Village and whatever investments and securities Harrison owned at the time of his death.
“Oh, this is great,” Allison said. “Just this morning, I prayed for God to give new direction to my life, and here it is, offered to me on a silver platter.”
“I don’t want you to take it,” Beatrice said quietly.
Her family stared at her, speechless, and Charles was the first to find his voice.
“Not take it?” he shouted. “Why would you want Allison to turn down an estate that might be worth several million dollars?”
Beatrice regarded her husband in amazement. “Charles, think a minute. It’s the only sane solution.”
“Mother,” Allison said, “why can’t you be happy for me? Ever since Donald married and started bringing his wife next door, I’ve been miserable here in Chicago. This will give me something else to think about. Are you disappointed because he didn’t name you in the will?”
“I didn’t expect anything from Harrison, but I don’t like the idea that he favored you over the other children. That isn’t fair. Besides, you’re not mature enough to take over his estate.”
“I’m not a child anymore, and I’ve had some experience in the publishing business. Perhaps that’s the reason he chose me.”
Cleta spoke for the first time. “I think you should take it. If the money had been left to me, I’d rush out of here for Columbus so fast you couldn’t stop me. Not take a few million dollars! Mother, you must be joking.”
“We’ve tried to teach you children that money isn’t everything, but if you’re determined to accept it, Allison, then promise me that you’ll liquidate it the minute the estate comes into your possession. I don’t want you to go to Columbus.”
Trying to think of a way to answer her mother, Allison hesitated as she glanced through the document again. She read the names of the others that Harrison Page had listed: Celestine Handley, Adra and Minerva McRamey, Thomas Curnutt and Benton Lockhart.
Benton Lockhart! Surely not the Benton Lockhart she had once known and had never forgotten. A photo of that dynamic young man had brought him to mind today, and here was something else to evoke his memory. Seeing that name convinced Allison that she would definitely go to Columbus and at least find out what was involved in accepting Harrison’s property.
“That’s a promise I can’t make right now, Mother. I must go to Columbus and find out what is involved. Maybe I won’t want to live there, but I have to find out for myself. Will you go with me to investigate? I don’t want to go alone.”
Beatrice stood, and her visage was stony. “No, I won’t go with you. This move may very well ruin your life, and I won’t be a party to having you wreck the life-style we’ve worked for years to achieve.”
She stalked out of the room, and as Allison heard her steps, heavy and deliberate, on the stairway, she turned to Charles questioningly.
“I’ll go with you,” he said quietly. “After being gone this week, I can’t be away from work long, but I’ll arrange for a couple of days, as you will have to do, and we’ll take a plane for Columbus. I believe you’ve made the right decision.”
The following Sunday, Allison and Charles waited at O’Hare Airport for a plane to Columbus. Sleet pelted the large windows in the waiting area as Allison tried to be patient. The plane was already an hour late, which meant that their arrival in Columbus would be well after dark. It was a good thing they had allowed two days for the trip instead of only one. Their appointment with the lawyer, Thomas Curnutt, was scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning, with a flight back to Chicago in midafternoon. Allison was eager for the meeting, but she knew she couldn’t hurry the plane, so she took a book from her purse and started to read. In a short time, passengers from the incoming jet came through the walkway, and soon the call was given for loading. It was obvious that the airport authorities were moving the planes as fast as safety rules permitted to avoid a big buildup if the airport had to be closed because of the weather.
Their plane arrived in Columbus two hours late, but since no one was meeting them, it didn’t matter. Heavy clouds had hidden the ground all the way across Indiana and Ohio, but as they approached Columbus, the plane reached a lower altitude and Allison saw the wide fertile fields of western Ohio give way to a metropolis spread around the banks of the Scioto and Olentangy Rivers, and as they neared the airport, she was amazed at the cluster of tall buildings in the downtown section. The city wasn’t as large as Chicago, but it displayed an interesting skyline, and Allison looked eagerly at this capital city that might soon become her home.
Intermittent rain was falling when the plane landed, and since they hadn’t checked any luggage, Charles motioned Allison toward the lower level of the terminal, where ground transportation was available. Her father arranged for a van to take them to a downtown hotel, and it was almost seven o’clock when they registered and took the elevator to adjoining rooms on the third floor.
“Will a half hour give you time to freshen up for dinner?” Charles asked, and when Allison nodded, he said, “Come into my room when you’re ready.”
Allison was ready in fifteen minutes, as was Charles, and as they waited for the elevator to take them to the restaurant, Allison said, “I’m not hungry.”
Charles gave her a hug. “I know that, but you’re going to eat anyway. Stop being nervous—this is going to work out fine.”
Tears welled in Allison’s eyes. “I hope so, but I’m scared.”
“I know that, too,” he said as he gently squeezed her shoulder.
Charles, who always had a healthy appetite, ordered a full meal, and when Allison asked for a salad only, Charles said to the waiter, “Add a bowl of vegetable soup and some crackers to her order. Also, we’ll have pie for dessert.”
He reached across the table and took Allison’s hand. “Listen to me, Allison. Harrison should not have loaded all this on you without telling you first, but that was his way. The man was self-centered, and while he seems to have had an excellent head for business, he didn’t know much about dealing with his family.”
“Why didn’t he ever come to see us?”
Charles shrugged and leaned back so the waitress could arrange their beverages and salads. He took Allison’s hand again as he said a prayer of thanks for their food.
“You know very well that I’ll miss you if you leave Chicago, but I honestly feel that your future lies here in Columbus.”
“I’ve been very unhappy for two years. I couldn’t live at the house anymore and see Donald bringing his wife home to visit. It helped to go into the apartment, but it will probably be better if I leave Chicago.”
Sternly, Charles said, “It’s time for you to stop this yearning for Donald. You would have had a miserable life married to a man who was in love with another woman.”
“I decided last week while you were gone that I was going to bury the past.”
“That’s good. When Donald refused to marry you, he was simply living by the Golden Rule, the way I’ve taught you children to live, and it’s time for you to forget him and go on with your life. Frankly, I question you ever had a deep love for Donald—he was just a habit in your life. You two were friends and little more, I think. He was your first boyfriend, Allison, but I don’t think you and Donald shared the strong feelings necessary for a good marriage.”
Allison stared at her father as if he didn’t know what he was talking about, but perhaps he was right. He hadn’t steered her wrong yet.
The next morning Charles ordered a taxi to take them to Curnutt’s office on South High Street.
“And they call Chicago the windy city,” Allison said to Charles as she noticed the effect of the strong wind sweeping across High Street where it intersected with Broad. People could hardly stand against its power. Stoplights and shop signs risked being blown from their moorings. Pigeons with ruffled feathers, strutting along the street looking for crumbs, staggered drunkenly from the force of the blasts, and passengers waiting at the bus stops were sprayed with liquid as foam coffee cups were torn from their hands.
“It’s a nice city, though,” Charles observed. “Smaller than Chicago, but enough like it that you wouldn’t notice a great deal of difference.”
Before they reached the stone statehouse in Capitol Square, they observed the sprawling Nationwide Insurance Plaza and passed under the connecting mall bridge between Lazarus and Jacobson’s, the city’s two large department stores. The stately city hall building was on their right as the taxi dodged in and out of traffic on busy High Street.
The attorney’s office was in a two-story brick building, which had been a dwelling at one time. Charles paid the taxi fare, took Allison’s arm, steered her along the sidewalk and up the two steps to the front door. She sighed deeply.
“You’re prettier when you smile,” Charles said jokingly, and Allison forced her features to relax. She couldn’t smile, but she did look pleasant as she inspected her image in the glass panel of the walnut door. A sign on the door said Open. Come in.
There was no turning back now. A blast of heat hit their faces, and it felt good after the chill morning air. They were in a narrow, heavily carpeted foyer with a circular stairway leading upward. The door to the left was marked Receptionist, and a woman well past her youth greeted them with a pleasant, “Good morning.” She was dressed in a black suit, and her elegance blended with the lavish office, which must have contained every modern office machine on the market. Thomas Curnutt obviously wasn’t a struggling young lawyer.
“I’m Charles Sayre, and this is my daughter Allison. We have an appointment with Mr. Curnutt.”
“Won’t you be seated for a few minutes? I’m Mary Curnutt, and my husband was delayed with a client at the hospital this morning, but he telephoned just a few moments ago that he would be here soon.”
Another delay, Allison thought with a sigh. If the Lord was trying to teach her patience, she was in the right classroom. Although it had been only eight days since she’d learned of her inheritance, the wait had seemed endless.
Alert to her moods, Charles muttered, “You’ve waited this long—five minutes more won’t make much difference.”
She flashed him a smile. How many times in her life had this best of all fathers jollied her out of the dismals?
The phone rang, and under cover of the secretary’s conversation, Charles said, “I can’t understand you. You’ve suddenly become a millionaire. That’s supposed to make you happy. You were excited at first. What’s happened?”
“I’m disturbed about Mother’s reaction. If she wanted me to have the money, I’d be dancing around light as a feather. I can’t be happy if I make others unhappy.”
Charles waved his arm in an impatient gesture. “Forget your mother. There comes a moment in all our lives when we can’t do what our parents want us to. Your mother will get over her peeve, but it will take time. Just be patient with her. And another thing, my only purpose here is to give you support. You’ll have to do the talking, so loosen up.”
When the secretary terminated her conversation, she said, “I believe I heard Mr. Curnutt come in.”
The door behind the secretary opened, and a well-built man of medium height entered the reception room. He had glossy dark hair, streaked with gray, and brown eyes, and Allison judged he was about sixty years old. He advanced and shook hands with Charles.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Sayre,” Curnutt said in a deep-toned powerful voice, and he turned to Allison. “And this is Allison, I presume.”
Allison took his outstretched hand. He sounded as if meeting her was his greatest pleasure, and Curnutt’s presence affected her like a gentle breeze on a soft, spring day. She felt safe in his hands, and much of her nervousness dissipated under the influence of his warm, radiant personality as he stood aside to let Allison precede him into his office. The office had the air of a cozy living room, with comfortable leather chairs grouped about two coffee tables. The focal point of the room was a window overlooking the backyard, where cardinals and chickadees fought for sunflower seeds in a well-filled bird feeder. Tall maple trees marked the property line, and a fountain, now wrapped in a protective cover, would provide a pleasant addition to the scene in summer.
The attorney seated Allison and Charles beside one of the low tables, and Mrs. Curnutt brought in a silver tray containing coffee and tea urns and a plate of homemade cookies. Charles poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Allison, but she declined. She wouldn’t have considered putting food or drink into her queasy stomach.
While Curnutt opened a locked file and took out a well-filled folder, Allison clenched her fingers and commanded them not to tremble. God, I need some help, she prayed, and instantaneously she remembered a verse that she’d heard over and over at funerals. She almost felt as if this were her funeral—at least it was the death of her old way of life, so the words were welcome. “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
She felt Charles’s eyes upon her, and she was smiling when Curnutt sat down and laid the folder on the table between them.
“Mr. Curnutt,” Allison began in a steady voice, “the inheritance from my uncle came as a complete surprise to all of us. I know nothing about his affairs.”
He nodded. “I was aware that Harrison had not made his intentions known to you, and I advised him that he was making a mistake, and especially after he became ill, I insisted that you should be told, but he refused.”
“Then he wasn’t sick when he first made this will,” Allison said, taking the document from her purse.
“That’s correct. Harrison and I have been friends for years, and he had never mentioned a family until he came in here three years ago and asked me to draw up his will.”
“He must have been a strange man. He didn’t keep in contact with us, either.”
“He was a lonely man, I think, because he was attentive to his ailing wife. He worked hard at his company, but he had no social life.” Curnutt spread open the file. “Since I knew you were coming, I’ve prepared a portfolio of his worth so we could start probating the will upon your arrival.”
“Since I know nothing about his assets, tell me what I need to know.”
He smiled at her. “You should know, Miss Sayre, that you’ve become a very wealthy young woman. Page Publishing alone is worth more than a million, his three-story Victorian home could be listed for close to a million, and I estimate that his stocks, bonds and other assets will round out your total inheritance at nearly three million dollars.”
Sweat popped out on Allison’s hands, and she suddenly felt faint. Curnutt’s smiling face faded before her, and Charles placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.
“I’m all right, but it’s overwhelming. You see, Mr. Curnutt, my mother wants me to sell the house and the publishing company and take cash for everything, and that’s a lot of cash! She doesn’t want me to move to Columbus, for she says I’m not mature enough to take over Uncle Harrison’s business, and I suspect she’s right.”
Curnutt shook his head and handed her a sheet of paper. “This is a copy of the codicil to your uncle’s will, and I neglected to give it to your parents last week. Perhaps Harrison had second thoughts about saddling you with so much responsibility, but a year ago, he made these provisions—you must manage Page Publishing Company for at least three years before you can sell it. And you will notice the stipulation that if you do not choose to abide by these provisions, you will not inherit, the business will be shut down and his assets will be liquidated and given to Mount Carmel Hospital.”
“So I take everything he had or nothing?”
“That’s right.”
Allison left the chair and walked toward the window. The cardinals flashed brilliant in the morning’s sun as they flew gracefully from the tall maples down to the feeder, grabbed a seed and winged back to their perch. Unlike birds in the wild, they had become dependent upon these handouts, and she wondered if she could accept Harrison’s money without becoming a slave to it. Unlike Tim, who was far too interested in material possessions, money had never been that important to Allison. Even when she considered leaving her present job, it wasn’t to earn more money—she simply wanted an opportunity to learn more and be more productive.
She sat down on the cushioned window seat and looked at Curnutt “Tell me something about Page Publishing Company.”
“Harrison started the business about thirty years ago. They specialize in printing curriculums for colleges and secondary schools. When Harrison started out, he did some trade publishing, but the business is really a printing company now, for they don’t deal with the authors personally. Rather, they do contract printing for a number of publishers. They produce books in Spanish, French and German, and they’re shipped all over the world. It’s a stable business.”
“What do you think I should do, Daddy?”
“The decision is yours, honey, but if you want some advice, I’d say go for it. You’ve had some experience with the publishing world. You’ll never know what you can do until you try. I’ve always heard, and I believe it, that when God closes one door of opportunity, He opens another. The Donald door is closed—you know that—so if God has provided a new pathway for you, be cautious about closing it before you step through. But,” he repeated, “the decision is yours.”
Allison stared at the floor and, with the toe of her shoe, traced the outline of the hexagon shapes on the carpet. Curnutt and Charles didn’t rush her.
“May I take some time to deliberate?”
“Certainly,” Curnutt said, “but I wouldn’t hesitate long. Will it help you make up your mind if I take you to Page Publishing and the house Harrison owned?”
“I’m not ready for that yet. I want to go back home and make my decision there. I’ll telephone you within a week.”
The attorney closed the file before him. “Very well.” He gave her a look of admiration. “May I say that it’s a privilege to work with such an exceptional young woman.”
Allison’s look of surprise was genuine. “Exceptional? Me? I’ve always considered myself a very ordinary person.”
“You aren’t, Miss Sayre. I don’t know of anyone—young or old—who would hesitate a minute if given an opportunity to have several million dollars handed to them. Let me repeat, you’re exceptional. I would be interested to know why you are so cautious.”
“I haven’t really thought it out, but I suppose I’m hesitating for a number of reasons. I’m afraid I will make a failure and lose everything. Also, I told you my mother doesn’t want me to move to Columbus, and I don’t want to be at odds with her. And what will so much wealth do to my values? My parents have taught me to avoid selfishness and greed, and I’ve had everything I want on a moderate income. Will I be greedy to take so much wealth? No doubt the hospital needs it more than L”
Curnutt smiled at her and shook his head. “As I said before, exceptional.”
Allison was silent as they traveled from Curnutt’s office to the airport, and Charles didn’t press her to talk. As the plane lifted into the air and she looked down on Columbus, now illuminated by the noonday sun, she said, “Daddy, I don’t think I can handle it.”
“I don’t care what you do, but you’re worrying needlessly about some things,” Charles said sternly. “I’ve told you that Beatrice will come around. She loves you. She won’t want to be estranged from you. And about running that business—millionaires don’t make all their own decisions—that’s why they employ accountants and lawyers. Besides, the employees at Page Publishing will do the work. Your job will be to see that they’re doing it right.”
