The Heir

13

Sunday I toured museums for a while. There are too many things in the world.

My homecoming Sunday night filled my wife with joy. Her weekend had been more fulfilling to her than mine had been to me. She had a house.

“It’s empty,” she said. “We could move in now.”

“Was it anybody’s we know?”

“No. A man named Gilchrist. He had some computer company that made him rich, and then he lost it. I didn’t ask for details.” She had no interest in people who lost their fortunes, or how.

“Is it new?”

“Just a few years old, and it’s beautiful. Can you come to see it tomorrow?”

“Sure. About one thirty?”

She asked about my weekend, for show, but her attention was riveted on the new project. I was soon in my office.

I looked around the room, with its view over the back lawn and garden, the dark cherry desk, the bookcases and books. It was a comfortable place, and I’d miss it. But the first question I had to deal with was: Should I tell Katie that it had been broken into?

It was subtle, but I knew. Papers were not as I’d left them, the chair was at a different angle, and the books especially were noticeable. Governor Bright would not benefit from anything I had there; I was sure he was the ultimate culprit. I was glad Melvin’s papers were in the bank.

I looked in the back of my desk drawer. I kept a cash envelope there, for convenience, with a few thousand dollars in it. It was out of place but intact.

Surely Melvin’s office at the big house had been burgled, also. If Angela found out, she’d panic. Maybe the security there was good enough to keep the governor’s minions at bay.

No, there was no need to tell Katie. I looked up the Gilchrist dwelling on the Internet. It was time to get out of our insecure little house.

Sometimes wealth is so wonderful. I used a fair amount Monday morning, and when I picked up Katie and Francine after lunch, I had a surprise for them. We drove thirty minutes away from town, even past a few farms, and then turned in at a discreet gate.

It was a nice place. It had that rough, rustic, honest feel that only a great deal of money can create. There was lots of stone and wood, a cozy, twenty-foot-tall fireplace that had taken a crane to erect, a friendly country kitchen that a Boston restaurant would envy; and just like any other old farmhouse, it had an indoor pool, wine cellar, sauna, greenhouse, and ten bedrooms. To complete the rural theme, it was on seventy acres.

“Stone floors are always cold.” Francine had maintained a running commentary of flaws.

“I like cold floors,” I said.

“You shouldn’t make your wife walk on them.”

“I’ll teach her how to wear shoes. I think she has some.”

“There are only a few rooms with the flagstones,” Katie said.

“We’ll have rugs.”

“There aren’t enough cabinets in the kitchen, either.”

We were standing among the dozens of them. “There are plenty,” Katie said. “And there’s a whole pantry, too.”

“It’s not a pantry,” I said.

“What?” Katie opened the door. The room was about six by ten with two walls of shelves and two of floor-to-ceiling cabinets, with a plain wood floor and no windows. “Of course it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“He wouldn’t know,” Francine said.

“No,” I said. “It’s the mother-in-law suite.” I leaned my elbow on one of the hard shelves. “This is where she sleeps. And why do you think the door locks from the outside? There’s even room for more than one.”

Katie only rolled her eyes, but Francine couldn’t resist snapping back.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to have another wife tucked away somewhere. What were you doing over the weekend, anyway?”

I ignored her again. “Are you sure you like it?” I said to Katie.

“I think it’s wonderful,” she said. There was no doubt she thought so.

“Well…” I put just a little doubt in my voice.

“What? Is it too much?” Would the candy be snatched from her hand?

“I told you,” Francine said. “He can’t afford it.”

I ignored her again. Katie had my complete attention. “It’s yours, babe. I bought it this morning.”

Oh, what a gratifying reaction. Her mouth fell open, and she leaped onto me with a hug as big as the house. Francine smiled, too, but tried to hide it.

All it takes to create happiness is money.