Laura shrilled, “He can’t do that.”
“Actually, ma’am, your late father can do anything he wishes.” Sol lifted the slender document. “His will, his rules.”
“Get on with it,” her son snapped.
“Second, each of Mr. Vicenza’s living relatives will receive precisely the same amount, including proceeds related to the sale of his home—”
“Daddy’s home ismine!” Eloise exclaimed.
Sol lifted his gaze. “Shall I continue?”
Willifred reached over and gripped his mother’s hand. Hard.
The table remained silent. Actually, Jenna decided the better word to describe the gathering wasaghast.
“Thank you very much.” Sol went on. “The house will be sold and the proceeds divided equally. As will happen with everything else belonging to the late Mr. Vicenza. Everything to be sold. All artwork, all valuables.” Sol looked up. “To that end, I have already contacted Christie’s, Mr. Vicenza’s dealer of choice.”
This time, there was no sound.
“And finally, Ms. Jenna Greaves will today receive a gift of fifty thousand dollars cash.” Sol lifted his hand to the table’s unified intake of breath. As if his simple gesture was capable of shutting down the protests even before they started. And perhaps it was. “Any legal dispute arising from this or any other portion of the will, by any member of Mr. Vicenza’s surviving family, results in the entire estate being donated to the Santa Barbara hospital where Mr. Vicenza received treatment.”
This time, the protests formed a jagged chorus. It was hard to say who cried the loudest, the clan or their lawyers.
Sol waited them out. Jenna found herself watching the attorney more than the family. She was fairly certain Sol had to struggle not to smile. Or perhaps laugh out loud.
“I told you all along,” Eloise declared, pointing at Sol. “That man is on her side.”
“I am on your father’s side,” Sol replied. “Doing my final duty to a man I admired.”
Eloise sniffed. “Whatever.”
Auburn, the only offspring who had been remotely nice to Jenna, asked, “What about all the stuff my mom and aunt have taken over the years?”
“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Eloise retorted. “Coming from you, who never left the place without his pockets sticking out like balloons.”
“Nothing I’ve done compares toyouract, borrowing his art to stick on your walls.”
“For a week.”
That drew a laugh from all the clan and even some of the attorneys. “Try twenty years.”
Though he spoke quietly, Sol instantly halted the argument. “Whatever has already been distributed, or taken, or borrowed, now becomes the property of the current owners.”
Eloise smiled at her son, Willifred. “Told you.”
Auburn muttered, “That is so totally unfair.”
Willifred sneered, “This from the guy who’s walking away with a cool three mil. Maybe four. Who never had the time of day for the old man.”
“Oh, and you were the loving grandson? Ha.”
“More than you,” Willifred retorted. “Better than you.”
“Again. Ha.”
Sol rapped the table with his knuckles. “To repeat. Any litigation or conflict arising from the sale and distribution of these assets will result in all involved parties being irrevocably cut off.”
The table lapsed into a sullen silence, until Laura asked her attorney, “Can he do that?”
