The Heir

10

Thursday dawned bright and clear and I saw it happen. When I got back to the house, huffing and puffing, Katie was up and dressed for lots of walking.

“It’s too late to change your mind,” she said.

“I won’t. Who was the lady we used to get this house?”

“Harriet Postagini. I’m meeting her at noon.”

Noon? “Why wait that long?”

“I told Eric I’d take him shopping this morning.”

“Right. Be real sweet to him. And like I said, we’re paying.”

I was in a better mood that morning. I sat in my office for twenty minutes just being calm. Then it was time for not being calm.

“I’m not happy about this.” It was true: Fred’s voice in the phone was very unhappy.

“I agree,” I said. “But it’s not my fault. Bright started it. Do you have a suggestion for the best way to poke him, or should I think of something?”

“There is no best way.”

“Okay. Is there some way that’s less terrible?”

“Remember, I’m not advising that you follow this plan.”

“I understand.”

“You should be indirect to keep them confused, and to keep your own options open. Don’t talk to Grainger or Bright directly in any way that they can ask you questions, unless you’re willing to deal.”

“I’m not.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not, yet.”

“That’s slightly better. Talk to Stanley Morton. Don’t tell him any more than you need to, but get him to set a reporter on Clinton Grainger. Grainger needs to be asked if he’s worried that Jason Boyer might uncover anything questionable about Melvin Boyer’s dealings with the governor. You understand what I mean.”

“Yes. They shouldn’t ask the governor directly?”

“By asking Grainger, you will be indicating that this is a warning, not yet an actual attack. And who knows what the governor might answer. Also, go through your father’s papers, quickly. You’ll need to be ready for the governor’s response.”

“I’m getting them from his office this afternoon.”

“Good. You should get them into a more secure place, as well.”

“I’m planning to.”

We said our good-byes, and I noticed the time. It had been exactly one week ago that Fred had read us Melvin’s will, and the world had turned upside down.

I took Stan Morton to lunch. Not too direct, not too elusive.

“I’ve got an issue with Governor Bright.”

We were high above the ground, in a very expensive French restaurant, at a table in the corner of two long windowed walls. Stan leaned forward, the better to hear my newsworthy words.

“Oh, do you?”

“I’m not sure the dealings between him and my companies have always been completely legitimate.”

Stan blinked, once, then swallowed. “Of course they haven’t been.” I was really getting to like him.

“I wouldn’t have known. I was never involved.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you’re surprised?”

“Shocked. It’s amazing how innocent I’ve been.”

“I see.” He leaned back. “So what’s your issue with the governor?”

“What I just said, that I’m worried about what might happen to my businesses if anything became public. And I’d be especially worried for him. It might hurt me, but it could really hurt him.”

“Is he worried?”

“I don’t know. I think you should have someone ask him. Or it would be even better to ask Clinton Grainger. Maybe this afternoon, if you could manage it. I could write out the questions for you.”

“My reporters know how to ask their own questions.”

“Sure. It could be something like, ‘Are you worried that Jason Boyer might go public with details of Melvin Boyer’s deals with Governor Bright? The governor would have much more to lose than the Boyers.”’

“I understand. So what’s your real issue with the governor?”

“No comment.”

He smiled. “If you’re trying to send a message, we’ve got a classified section.”

“I’m not sure the governor reads the classifieds. I could call him, but politicians always pay extra attention to reporters.”

“Yeah, I get it. I should charge you for a full page ad.”

“No problem. What does that cost?”

“In this case…” He paused. “I’ll put it on your account and bill you later.”

“Then I want account credit for all the extra newspapers you sell,” I said.

I was again shown into Angela’s parlor. Without Katie, the greeting was much more formal, but I was as respectful as I could be.

“I need to go through Melvin’s office,” I said.

She nodded. “I understand. Will you take anything?”

“Yes. All his papers.”

“I suppose they really are yours,” she said. We were back to the way we’d always been-uncomfortable and softly hostile.

“I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“It’s no matter.”

I could see her getting colder by the moment.

“Is the man you mentioned, Emmanuel, still here?”

“No. He hasn’t been back since the accident.”

I was in the office for two hours, packing and searching. Melvin had never chosen to own a computer, so I didn’t have to deal with that. I wasn’t reading everything, just organizing it in my boxes, but I could already tell the future was dim for Harry Bright.

I took only the state government file; I left the files on the foundation. That would be another day’s job. And I was getting the creeps, too. The room was so much his, I felt like he’d walk in. Then I’d sure be in trouble. But after the last few days, I was mad enough to stand up to him.

I carried the boxes out to my car and looked in to Angela’s parlor to say good-bye, but she was not there. I didn’t look for her. It was only as I was accelerating down the driveway that I saw a brief flash of pink and platinum in a second-floor window.

I stopped at my bank and got a big safe-deposit box.

Katie’s mother joined us for the evening. Francine had helped look at houses. She was in her usual crusty mood, torn between the pleasure of her daughter’s good fortune and the pain of that fortune being through me. Behind every successful man stands a supportive wife and a very suspicious mother-in-law.

“Did you enjoy your afternoon?” I said to her. I wanted to see what she’d have to complain about.

She glared at me over her glasses. “Those big houses are so exhausting to look through.”

It’s almost a game. “I’ll tell Katie to look at smaller places.”

“If the big ones are too expensive, just say so, Jason.”

“That’s not what he meant, Mother,” Katie said.

“She has a point, dear,” I said. “You should let her pick some houses to look at, ones she thinks I deserve.” I smiled sweetly at the dear little lady. “Maybe some one-room shacks.”

She smirked back at me. “When I see what you move into, I’ll know the truth about this so-called billion dollars. Have you seen an actual bank statement, Katie?”

“You two deserve each other,” Katie said. It might be true. Sometimes I’m not sure but that I actually like Francine.

But our banter was cut short. Eric, scrubbed and shiny, was being presented.

Whatever-random-item-was-on-the-first-rack-at-Macy’s Eric was gone. But instead of the feared Jason-Boyer-clone casual, tailored, and wealthy look, Katie had started from scratch and invented a whole new Eric-Eric the Untamed and Adorable.

“We started with play clothes today,” Katie said. “We’re just experimenting.”

He changed twice in order to show the whole line, he was enjoying himself so much. Denim, leather, burnt oranges and dark blues-Katie was a master and he was a blank canvas.

Katie had not neglected herself. In the spirit of the morning, she’d snagged herself a leather jacket. It would be for those moments when she wanted to walk on the wild side, like maybe if we went to a restaurant where we had to park our own car and walk all the way from the lot.

And the little tykes had even remembered Daddy. I received a new windbreaker, which I liked, to keep on the boat, and I wondered how such a nautical preppy item could have been found within twenty miles of the establishments they had been patronizing.

And that had been only half of the exciting day!

Katie and Francine had viewed five houses and considered two as barely possible. Much more touring was planned.

Could they show me anything? I asked.

Of course! There were glossy photographs of stately estates and massive manors. I timed myself to look through them for at least three minutes and forty-five seconds.

“Harriet said it’s a wonderful time to be looking. There’s quite a bit on the market.”

So Katie would have plenty to do. I thanked her for her hard work and encouraged her to keep it up. She needed very little encouraging.

“And you can keep going with her,” I said to Francine, “if you’ll be civil. You could use the exercise.”

“I’m always civil, to her,” Francine said.

“Is she?” I asked Katie.

“Of course. You might try it yourself.”

But we were really all happy. Katie was buying a new house, Francine was having some excitement, Eric was feeling loved, and I had something of my own to look forward to.

“I’m going out of town this weekend,” I said. “Down to Washington, on business. Just by myself.”