As it was, she’d wanted no pallbearers or lengthy speeches aside from the one she’d taped herself, so Connelly hadn’t seen her young man speak, buthe’d recognized Tavish Advani from Susanne’s descriptions of her lover, a man who, she’d told him, had turned out to be of far deeper character than she’d ever imagined when they first met.
Connelly remained taken aback by the age difference between the two, but with Susanne being who she was, Advani clearly had to be more than looks. Susanne assuredly wouldn’t have permitted him to stay with her in her last months if he’d been nothing but a pretty face.
That her young man had remained by her side when so many much older men vanished without a trace when their wives and girlfriends got sick? Yes, Connelly was predisposed to like Tavish Advani.
“First of all,” Connelly began, “she’s left her New York apartment to you, Cici.” He knew none of the group would want him to read out the legal verbiage. “While it’s yours to do with as you wish, she thought you might want to pass it on to your granddaughter in time, as she’s a city girl like Sue.”
Cici laughed again, the sound wet. “She’s right. It’s like my child gave birth to a younger version of my best friend. Only nine, and she’s already putting on shows and telling us about how she’s going to be on Broadway.”
Susanne had said that Cici wouldn’t argue for more, that she wouldn’t even expect this much, and Connelly was pleased to see that Sue had been right about her friend. It wasn’t often that he saw the better side of human nature at these readings. People—especially people with money—became grasping and venal creatures when more money was on the table.
“She’s also left you some of her jewelry,” Connelly continued. “The exact items are listed in an appendix, but she asked me to assure you that they are all tasteful pieces that will not shock your neighbors or give you the vapors.”
“I am going to miss her so much.” Soft words from Cici, even as the man next to her moved with greedy impatience while attempting a sympathetic expression that came across as a grimace.
“To her nephew, Harold,” Connelly said, meeting the man’s gaze, “she leaves fifty thousand dollars in a lump sum.”
Harold’s mouth parted. “That’s it?”
“It’s considerable,” Connelly said mildly. “Susanne has specifically noted that she assigned you five thousand dollars for every time you visited her in the last fifteen years. She intended for you to receive her dear husband’s prized Rolex, but after you made it clear you found it old-fashioned and ‘fusty’ on your last visit, she decided to donate it to an organization of which Mr.Winthorpe was a patron.”
Harold had the grace to flush beet red and shut up.
Had Susanne had her way, she’d have left her “idiot nephew” the grand total of nothing. Connelly was the one who’d suggested she give the atrocious man a nominal amount in relation to the entirety of her estate, and that she put her reasoning for it in writing. It would make it much harder for him to challenge the will when it was clear that he hadn’t been forgotten—he’d just been left a minor bequest on purpose.
Susanne had hooted as she wrote out the reasoning in her flawless penmanship. Because back then, she’d had all her usual fine motor control, the disease that had stolen her life too soon not yet visible on the surface. “There’s a reason you’re my lawyer, Connelly,” she’d said. “You understand petty.”
“ ‘To my niece, Grace,’ ” Connelly read past the unexpected lump in his throat, “ ‘I leave my diamond wedding set and my emerald necklace.’ ”
Grace sobbed. “Oh, I always said I’d borrow those for my engagement and wedding. She remembered.” More tears. “I’ll cherish them, save them for my own children. They’ll be precious heirlooms.”
“ ‘Also to Grace, I leave the sum of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus another fifty thousand dollars. The hundred and fifty thousand is in special thanks for Grace stepping in as my nurse during my decline, since she refused to accept the generous salary I offered her at the time.’ ”
Again, words written so Harold couldn’t challenge them.
Grace was sniffing into her tissue, far more overcome by grief than her apoplectic cousin. While she wasn’t thinking about the value of the jewelrySue had bequeathed her, Connelly had no doubt that Harold had done the sums and figured out that Grace had just inherited well over half a million dollars.
“ ‘And to my dear friend Tavish Advani,’ ” Connelly read, “ ‘I leave a sum of ten thousand dollars for his friendship in my darkest hour.’ ”
Harold, who’d fisted his hands on his thighs, suddenly had a smug smile on his face. Tavish said nothing. Clever boy. No reason for the others to know that Sue had made her main bequest to him while she was still alive: the purchase of a condo in his name, free and clear, right on Venice Beach.
There’d been a transfer of money, too, to ensure he could live well in that location.
“I’m not being a foolish old woman, Connelly,” she’d said with the ease of long acquaintance. “He’s made my final years a sheer delight. Family helps because of obligation, but he’s spent time with me because he enjoys me as I enjoy him. I do this of my own free will—I want to give him the same joy he’s given me.”
Connelly had offered her what advice he could, but he had to admit he’d been impressed by what she’d told him of the young man’s actions. Though Susanne had refused to permit Tavish Advani to act the nurse, he’d sat by her bedside during the worst times, and read to her.
“Rollicking romances and no skipping the sexy bits,” she’d said with her wicked smile. “He’s made me laugh over and over, and for that I can never repay him.”
Now Connelly completed reading the rest of her will. “There are no bequests to her domestic or other staff, as she preferred to give those to them before her death.”
“She would.” Cici’s smile was thick with affection and memory. “Would want to be sure they were treated well.”
“As for the remainder of her estate, that she has bequeathed to a charitable trust that helps provide a way to live in dignity for those suffering with cancer, who—in her words—‘do not have the kind of resources I had in my life.’ ”
That done, Connelly answered any questions, then farewelled the group. He’d just finished tidying his papers and was rising to fetch himself a cup of coffee when he happened to pass by a window that looked down on the square outside his office.
Tavish Advani was standing there with a crying Grace. His expression was solemn, the hand he had on her lower back comforting but respectful. Grace leaned into him, her body crumpling.
