Chapter Twenty
The subway rattled beneath the East River as Eliza rode to the lawyer’s office in Brooklyn. She emerged at the Borough Hall station and looked around to get her bearings. Brooklyn wasn’t her usual stomping grounds, but this part of it looked a lot like Manhattan. The street was crowded with people, cars, and city buses, and food carts dotted the corners. She found her way to the building she needed, despite its extensive scaffolding, and entered the main doors.
A security guard sat behind a desk, turning the pages of a newspaper, not sparing her a glance. She likewise ignored him and headed straight for a wall directory displaying hundreds of listings. Scanning, she confirmed the suite number for Morris, Muhlfelder and Gleason, and rode the elevator to the seventh floor.
The law firm’s name was engraved on a small plaque on a door halfway down the hall. She took a deep breath before turning the handle; this would be the first time she’d ever met with a lawyer.
As she entered, the receptionist?—an older woman with short metal gray hair?—looked up.
“I’m here to see Vicky Muhlfelder,” Eliza said.
The receptionist nodded and picked up the old-school corded phone on her desk. “Please have a seat while you’re waiting.”
Obediently, Eliza sat and looked around the small space. It reminded her of a dentist’s office, minus the brochures about tooth-whitening services. An innocuous seascape hung on the wall, and a couple of business magazines lay on the end table. Before she had a chance to even consider picking one up and leafing through it, a woman appeared in the open doorway. She wore charcoal pants and a tailored white shirt. A gold link necklace sat in the hollow of her throat, and her dark hair was worn in a sleek, inverted bob. It was the kind of haircut Eliza was impressed that anyone had the discipline to maintain. Her own long hair was so easily braided or wound into a bun that she didn’t have to worry about regular cuts.
The woman stuck out her hand. “Eliza? I’m Vicky.”
Eliza rose from her seat to shake the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Well, probably not that nice, considering the circumstances, but I’m used to it in my line of work.” Vicky smiled. “Let’s go to my office.”
Beyond the reception area, a tiled hallway snaked past a warren of minuscule offices. Eliza followed Vicky into one with a small window and a large desk piled with file folders, haphazardly stacked. It was the kind of space Eliza would never be able to focus in. It needed a good clear-out and?—as she noted the stain on the carpet near the door?—perhaps a scrubbing as well.
“Sorry for the mess. It’s hard to stay on top of all the paper sometimes.” Vicky pointed to the seat across from her as she sat behind the desk. “I guess I shouldn’t say that out loud. But don’t worry, I haven’t missed a filing yet.”
Vicky grinned, and Eliza smiled weakly in return. This was certainly not the kind of law office she was used to seeing on TV, all shiny and neat. But the lawyers in those offices probably charged a lot more than Morris, Muhlfelder and Gleason.
Vicky clasped her hands together. “So. Tell me how I can help you.”
Eliza opened her mouth, but Vicky spoke again before she could continue.
“Josh filled me in a bit. I’m so sorry, by the way, for the loss of your father.”
Eliza nodded.
“But don’t assume I know anything. Start from the beginning.”
Eliza opened her mouth again and hesitated, wondering if it was her turn now. After a moment of silence, she determined it was.
“So, like Josh told you, my father?—well, Jack Levinger, the man I always thought was my father?—passed away last month. Unexpectedly. My mom died ten years ago. And it turns out that my biological father was someone else.” She felt like she was reciting the plot of a soap opera rather than discussing her own life.
Vicky pulled a legal pad toward her?—somehow unearthing it from the mess around her?—and picked up a pen. “And how did you find out that you have a different biological father?”
Eliza explained about the letter, taking a copy of it out of her purse and passing it to Vicky.
“And have you met this man?”
“Um, it’s complicated.”
“Eliza. I can’t help you unless you are completely honest with me. We’ll only run into trouble if you keep secrets.”
Perhaps someone should have told Laura that twenty-seven years ago.
“I never heard of him before this, but now I’ve Googled and discovered he’s a professor at NYU. I went to an event the other night that he was at. We spoke for a minute, but that was it. I didn’t tell him anything.”
“That’s fine. I just want to have the whole picture. And you’re sure that you didn’t have this information until after Jack died?”
“Correct.”
Vicky scribbled on her pad. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Just one. My brother, Scott.”
“And I presume your stepmother isn’t challenging his inheritance?”
Eliza shook her head.
Vicky looked up from her note-taking. “And how long was Jack married to?—what’s your stepmother’s name?”
“Carol. They got married about nine years ago.”
“And Carol is the executrix of the will? Have you seen the will?”
“I haven’t seen it, but she says she’s the executrix. And she sent me this letter.” She passed the document across the desk, and Vicky scanned it, making additional notes on her pad.
“Okay. So. Let me give you a crash course in estate law.” She put down her pen. “Actually, first, can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?”
Eliza felt like she had whiplash. “No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I’m going to get water.”
“Okay, water, then.”
While Vicky was gone, Eliza looked around the small office. The walls were painted a pale peach, and the industrial carpet was navy, which made the visible stain that much stranger?—and more alarming. Diplomas and bar admittances hung on the walls, and a sad fern sat on the windowsill. It wasn’t the cheeriest of spaces. But, then again, this wasn’t the cheeriest of subjects.
Vicky returned with bottled water for them. “I know, it’s terrible for the environment. Sorry about that.” She sat back down. “By the way?—I bet you have amazing hair hidden in that bun.”
What? Who is this person? Eliza reminded herself that Josh had recommended her. She must know what she’s doing. She smiled weakly at the compliment.
After a long swig of water, Vicky began again. “Anyway. The purpose of a will is to ensure that the deceased person’s property is distributed according to their wishes. It’s the job of the executor?—or executrix in this case?—to file the will with the probate court and notify the heirs.
“There are specific reasons under which a will can be contested. The claim can be made that the person wasn’t of ‘sound mind’ when they made the will. You hear that a lot in the movies. A claim can be based on ‘undue influence’ or ‘duress’?—saying that a beneficiary unfairly influenced the making of the will in their favor. And then there’s fraud?—if the will was based on someone having lied.”
Eliza nodded, and Vicky paused to take another swallow of her water.
“So, if you knew that Jack wasn’t your biological father but continued to let him believe he was, Carol could legitimately claim there was fraud.”
“But I didn’t know! I just got this letter! My aunt can confirm...”
Vicky put up her hand to stop her. “Understood. I’m just trying to give you the big picture. So far, however, it doesn’t look like your stepmother has filed to contest the will with the court.”
“Then what’s this letter?”
“Just that. A letter. What’s interesting is that the court gives a lot of leeway to executors. There’s an expectation that they’ll complete the probate paperwork accurately, and unless the court catches a discrepancy in terms of the named heirs, an executor can simply leave out a beneficiary.”
Eliza shifted forward in her seat. “What? That’s crazy!”
Vicky shrugged. “The courts are overloaded. Stuff happens. I suspect that your stepmother sent you the letter since you’d be expecting to be named in the will. But what she’s essentially saying is I don’t think you’re entitled to inherit. ”
“But how can she do that? It’s not what my dad would have wanted.”
“Well, there’s the crux of the issue. We need to file what’s called an order to show cause, asking her to demonstrate why you’re not entitled. Let me ask you another way. Was Jack the only father you ever knew?”
Eliza nodded.
“And is his name on your birth certificate?”
“I assume so. Yes. It must be. I got a passport a few years ago and I needed to use my birth certificate. I’m sure I would have noticed if his name wasn’t there.”
“And your legal last name is Levinger, same as his?”
“Yes.”
“Good, good. I need to do a bit more research, but if the information you’re telling me is accurate, I definitely think you’re entitled to inherit under the terms of the will as written. If Jack raised you, and always believed you to be his daughter, and is treating you in the will the same way as your brother, this new information shouldn’t be relevant.” Vicky paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Case law ensures that adopted children have the same inheritance rights as biological children. Interesting that in this situation you’re actually neither biological nor adopted...” She trailed off as she gazed at the acoustic tiles.
Eliza felt a knot in her stomach. “So what does that mean?”
Her voice seemed to remind Vicky that she was there, and the lawyer readjusted her gaze. “Just an interesting legal puzzle. It really isn’t relevant.”
This consultation was feeling more like an amusement-park ride every minute. Just when she thought it was over, there was a sudden turn or drop. It wasn’t doing Eliza’s stomach any good.
Vicky tapped her forefinger on the legal pad, which was now covered with ink.
“And what about your brother? Where does he stand in all of this?”
Another sudden drop. “Not sure. He’s not keen on fighting with Carol. He actually suggested we go along with this, and when my share gets divided between her and him, he’d just give me the half he gets.”
Vicky started shaking her head as Eliza spoke. “I don’t think you need to give in to her like that. And I think an agreement like that has the potential to screw up your relationship with your brother. You don’t know how often people make promises to share and then somehow ‘forget’ that they did, or want to renegotiate.”
“I don’t think Scott would do that to me.” Or would he? Everything felt so tenuous now.
“Well, it’s up to you. But I still think you have a right to what your dad left to you, in full.”
Eliza suddenly realized she had forgotten the most important thing. “It’s not about the money...”
Vicky raised her perfectly arched eyebrows.
“Really. It’s about what’s fair. And about the fact that I don’t want Carol to just write me out of the family.”
Nodding, Vicky picked up her pen again. “Well, all the courts care about is the law. So. Here’s my advice. We need to obtain a copy of the will as filed with the court so I can take a closer look at the language. Assuming it’s what we’re expecting, I’ll file an order to show cause.”
The wheels in Eliza’s brain were just catching up to where Vicky was. “Wait, so we have to go to court, where Carol will testify that my mom cheated on my dad?”
“Well, yes. But then we’ll be arguing that it’s not relevant to the relationship that you and Jack had and shouldn’t have any bearing on your inheritance.”
Eliza tried to envision herself in that courtroom. Giving Carol an opportunity to testify in open court about what Laura had done. Maybe even talk about the?—minimal at best, volatile at worst?—relationship Eliza had had with Jack. Those images swirled in her head as Vicky talked to her about fees and timelines. The image of Carol’s smug face using the words “affair” and “cheating.” And her entering into evidence a neat record of the dates on which Eliza had visited her father. She could see them on a color-coded calendar, dwindling to fewer and fewer as time wore on, and her breath caught. And this is the situation your mom got you into, a small voice whispered in her ear as Vicky walked her out to the reception area. Eliza quickly shoved that voice back into its hiding place.
Vicky smiled at her. “It was very nice meeting you. Again, sorry for your loss. Why don’t you think about all of this and then let me know if you’d like to proceed?”
“I’ll do that.”
“And say hi to Josh for me. How do you know him again?”
Eliza blinked, shaking the courtroom drama out of her head. “He’s my brother’s best friend from growing up.”
“Ah. Makes sense. He’s a good guy. He dated my law school housemate for a while.” Vicky paused and looked at the ceiling again. “Before that, he was with a girl in my study group. Or maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.”
“No, I guess not.” Eliza smiled thinly. She’d certainly had her own share of male companionship. Not at all surprising that Josh kept busy, too. She’d just prefer not to think about it.