Chapter 2 #2
“Maybe they rent out for meetings and conventions,” Charlotte suggested, as Quinne parked and turned off the engine, but it didn’t look like that kind of place.
It looked like a beautifully cared for private estate.
They had driven past a similar property when they got to the address.
It was obviously a wealthy area with large private properties.
Scott Freeman was standing in front of the house, waiting for them, in a business suit, white shirt, and tie, although Felicia had told him to come in jeans the few times he had met her there.
He was handsome and looked younger than his forty-eight years, with dark hair and brown eyes, and he’d wanted to look respectable and serious for them, and respectful of Felicia.
He looked slightly overwhelmed for an instant as all five women got out of the two cars, and he was struck by how beautiful they were, even more than he had expected.
Quinne got Olivia’s chair out of the trunk and opened it, and Olivia maneuvered herself expertly into it and followed her sisters to meet him and introduce themselves.
They were smiling but looked serious. They had dressed informally for the country and the weather, but even in jeans, down jackets, and casual clothes, they were a striking group, and like their mother, none of them looked their age.
They were a group of beautiful women, and took turns shaking hands with Scott.
There was a brisk wind and the air was cold as they followed him into the warm house.
There were no steps for Olivia to negotiate.
The entrance hall was spacious and airy, with handsome American antiques, a large vase filled with fresh flowers, and a very pretty painting.
All five of her daughters were looking around filled with curiosity.
They took off their down jackets and coats and he led them into a large sunny living room, with tall windows leading out to a garden, a stone patio, and an open pavilion where one could dine in summer.
There was a view of a lake in the distance that Scott told them was part of the estate, as was the forest land behind it.
They were admiring the view when a tidy-looking elderly woman in a crisp white apron brought in a silver tray with a coffee service and cups for six and set it down on a long antique table.
There was a large fireplace in the room, a fire had been lit, and there were comfortable-looking couches and chairs where they could sit for their meeting.
Veronica loved antiques and noticed the silver coffee service as the housekeeper set it down.
She said her name was Ellen and looked at them with interest and then left.
“That’s funny, Mom had a silver service just like that, and Anson and I bought an almost identical one at the silver vaults in London, because it reminded me of hers.
” Scott didn’t comment. The women were looking around the room, admiring the shelves of antique books, and Charlotte was staring at the painting over the fireplace.
It was a picnic scene, and she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
The artist was French and she turned to the attorney with a puzzled look.
“Our mother had one just like that, the same one. What’s it doing here?” she asked him, and he looked serious.
“Let’s sit down and get started,” he said.
Charlotte suddenly felt a chill of anticipation, as they took their places on the couches, glancing at each other, a thousand questions in their eyes.
They waited politely for Scott to begin, the mystery of the painting over the fireplace foremost in their minds.
Had he brought it to make them feel at home?
Had their mother instructed him to do so with her penchant for minute detailed instructions?
What was it doing there? And more importantly what were they doing there, and why?
He took a breath and began, sitting in a large comfortable chair, with a stack of papers on a table next to him, and all five women were staring at him expectantly.
“I know you have pertinent questions, which will all get answered by the end of our meeting. Your mother left very specific instructions. I’m sure you all know how precise she was.
But it’s hard to know where to start. There are two important things for you to know.
After that the rest will all make sense and fall into place.
” He tried to sound reassuring, but he could see that the two youngest sisters, Veronica and Isabelle, looked scared, and he wanted to put them out of their misery as soon as he could.
“First of all, I assume you all know the name Morgan Reed.”
“My mother was her private editor for years, separate from the publishing house where she used to be employed. My mother worked for her directly,” Veronica explained, which they all knew, and he did too. For the moment, she was the star student with the correct answer, or so she thought.
“That’s not exactly true, although it’s what she said,” Scott said cautiously, knowing he was about to shock them profoundly.
“Did Morgan Reed die and leave my mother some money?” Charlotte interrupted bluntly. She was getting an odd feeling about the house, and wondered if it belonged to Morgan Reed, who allowed Felicia to use it.
“That’s not quite the case,” Scott said, and leapt in.
“In fact, there is no Morgan Reed. Or there was. Morgan Reed is the pseudonym your mother used to write the books. In truth, your mother was Morgan Reed. She never revealed that to anyone, except Robert Farr and myself, that she wrote the books. Morgan Reed was your mother.” They were all stunned into silence for a moment and stared at him in amazement.
“Mom was Morgan Reed?” Isabelle said in a squeaky voice and felt as though she had missed something. “Why didn’t she tell us?”
“She never wanted anyone to know. She guarded the secret carefully for her entire career, for a hundred and eight books.”
The sisters looked around at each other, trying to absorb it.
“Holy shit,” Charlotte was the first to comment.
“I think she was surprised by their initial success. I didn’t know her then. Her books were an overnight hit, and they just got bigger and bigger with time. She didn’t want fame to intervene in your lives or hers, so she never told anyone. They’re the biggest bestsellers that anyone publishes.”
“They must have paid her a lot for them,” Charlotte said practically. “What happened to the money? Our mother lived a very small life, she was never extravagant.” Charlotte appeared to doubt what Scott was saying.
“She invested most of it for all of you, which is part of what we have to discuss today.” He moved on to the next surprise then.
“This property belonged to your mother. She left it jointly to all five of you. She spent most of her time here in the last ten years. She kept the apartment in the city as a pied-à-terre, and for her visits with all of you. Her success came so quickly, and the money that came with it, that she didn’t want to change your lifestyles or your careers.
She preferred to save and invest her money so you would have it later, and not when you were too young to handle it responsibly.
And this property was a refuge for her. She did all her writing here.
She bought the property about twelve years ago for a reasonable amount.
She had it reappraised two years ago. At current market value then, it was estimated at fifty million dollars.
There’s quite a bit of forest land, and a lot of acreage, and it’s a historical property.
You each own a fifth of that, she left it to you jointly.
That’s why you recognized the painting, Charlotte.
This is your property now, all of yours.
She was hoping you might all like to use it together, or separately with your families.
With the outbuildings she did over as guesthouses, there’s room for all of you.
Of course you can decide to sell it, if that’s what you all wish to do, or buy each other out, if some of you want it and others don’t.
In addition, her investment portfolio was very well handled, and her contracts increased exponentially each time.
After the estate taxes are paid, you will each receive in the vicinity of eighteen million dollars.
She saved most of what she earned, in order to leave it to the five of you one day.
And her body of work is an important legacy.
We’ll need to work with Robert to handle it and make sound decisions about reprints, television series, feature films, syndications, and her royalties from all her international publishers.
” He let it sink in, and all five of the sisters were stunned into silence for a moment, trying to absorb what he had said.
“Eighteen million dollars each? And this property? What are we going to do with that?” Quinne asked.
She couldn’t imagine it. She was perfectly satisfied with what she had, her walk-up apartment in the Village and her on-and-off production jobs that gave her all the income she needed to pay her half of the rent with Cooper.
And now suddenly, she was worth nearly thirty million dollars, including her share of the property in Connecticut.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she was shocked by what their mother had done for them.
They were suddenly very rich women, but she would have given anything to have their mother back instead of the money.
“Why didn’t she tell us any of this?” she said, and wiped her eyes.