Black Dog

Two

The following afternoon, Joan entered Stone’s office and said, “Edwin Charles Jr. is here to see you, at Aunt Annetta’s suggestion.”

Stone sighed, steeling himself for the task. “Send him in.”

Joan ushered in a young man — shy of thirty, Stone thought — who wore a finely tailored tweed suit, handmade shoes and shirt, and a gold watch chain affixed to his waistcoat.

Joan introduced them, and they shook hands.

“Call me Eddie,” the young man said. “But nobody calls me Junior.”

“Duly noted, Eddie. I’m Stone. Please take a chair. Would you like some refreshment?”

“Perhaps a large single malt whisky over ice,” he replied.

“I think, given our business, coffee might be more appropriate. After that is concluded, we can think about opening the bar.”

Eddie shrugged. “Now, why has my wicked stepmother insisted I see you?”

“Mrs. Charles has created a trust fund in your name. It is called the Edwin Charles Junior — or ECJ — Trust.”

Eddie frowned. “Okay. Why?”

“Mrs. Charles sees you as being profligate, and she wishes to provide for you generously. But with limitations.”

“ ‘Limitations’?” Eddie asked. “What does that mean?”

“Please wait until I have outlined the terms of your trust before asking questions.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“The ECJ Trust will provide you with an income of one hundred thousand dollars per month, which is meant to cover all your living expenses — that is, food, clothing, shelter, transportation, entertainment, and whims.”

Eddie’s face fell. He took a breath to speak, but Stone held up a hand.

“Not yet. I have persuaded Mrs. Charles that should you become and remain gainfully employed, the trust will also pay you an amount equal to your monthly paycheck. Such payments will begin when you have submitted proper documents substantiating your hiring and your monthly income, and end if your employment should be terminated by either you or your employer.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Eddie demanded.

“I’m told that you possess a law degree from Yale, is that correct?”

“It is.”

“Then I suggest that you take a bar exam cram course, then take the exam. If you pass, you will be employable as an attorney. If you fail, you will not starve, given your monthly income from the trust. Then you can study harder and take the exam again.”

Eddie was crestfallen. “I’ve never worked a day in my life. I’m unaccustomed to it.”

“After you’ve done it for a while, you may come to enjoy it,” Stone said. “Many people do. If not, then you will simply have to live within your newfound means.”

“I’ll sue,” Eddie said.

“On what grounds? Search your legal education for an answer.”

“I’m entitled.”

“Entitlement is not grounds. You are entitled only to what your stepmother says you are, and she has spoken. Incidentally, you are to pack up your personal possessions and move out of her house within seventy-two hours. I suggest a room at the Yale Club temporarily and a storage unit for your excess possessions. And, if I may put this in a Dickensian manner, you are never again to darken her door — or any other door where she is present, on pain of ending the income stream from your trust. Do you have any questions?”

Eddie thought about it and shook his head.

“Good,” Stone said, handing him an envelope. “Here is your first month’s check, and another to cover your immediate rehousing.”

“Who is the trustee?” Eddie asked.

“I am,” Stone said, “and only I. Any requests will be heard by me and not your stepmother.” He pressed a button, and Joan appeared with Eddie’s coat. Eddie followed her out.

“Call me a taxi,” Eddie demanded sullenly.

“Okay, you’re a taxi.” She pushed him out the front door and locked it behind him, then she returned to Stone’s office. “How’d the Black Dog take it?” she asked.

“I think he was too stunned to protest much.”

“It was generous of you to add an amount equal to his income.”

“Your aunt rather liked that, too. I hope we’ve heard the last of Eddie.”

“Don’t count on it,” Joan said.