Chapter Fifteen
THE NEXT MORNING, Ted dresses with care in a slim, dark navy-blue suit, a smart white shirt open at the neck, and no tie.
Jill is wearing a tasteful black dress with three-quarter sleeves and a hem that falls just below the knee.
They want to look businesslike, but also like a family that is in mourning.
Ted felt that wearing a black suit would be too funereal. He didn’t want to overdo it.
‘We look good, don’t you think?’ Jill says, coming up beside him, surveying them both in the full-length mirror in their spacious walk-in closet.
‘We do,’ he agrees, kissing her on the cheek. He looks back at the two of them smiling in the mirror. The world is their oyster. His mood is buoyant. He picks her up off her feet and twirls her around while she smiles down at him, protesting that he’ll ruin her dress.
They are going to this meeting with the lawyers. It’s what they’ve been waiting for. It’s what he’s fantasized about, dreamed of. He tells himself that dreams do come true. If you make them happen.
When they arrive at the law firm, they are greeted warmly by the receptionist and escorted directly into a boardroom with a long sleek table and several chairs and a glorious view of Lexington Avenue.
They are told Marlon Fiddick will be with them shortly.
They are offered coffee, which they accept.
The receptionist retreats to get their coffees while Jill sits and Ted, still standing, looks out at the view and straightens his shoulders inside his suit.
Their coffees are brought in and a moment later Marlon arrives, carrying a leather folder.
Jill stands up, and Marlon shakes hands with each of them.
‘Let’s just have a moment alone before the others join us,’ Marlon says, as they all sit down.
He smiles at them both, looking slightly uncomfortable.
‘Again, I’m so sorry for your loss,’ he says.
Ted nods. ‘We don’t have to get into estate matters today, if it’s too soon.
We can just talk about immediate steps, if you would prefer. ’
Ted glances at Jill. ‘I think we’re okay to talk about it,’ he says, keeping his voice solemn.
‘Okay.’ After a pause, the attorney says, ‘I’m not sure what you’re expecting.’ He seems almost apologetic. Ted immediately feels as if all the blood in his body has dropped to his feet. He’s suddenly lightheaded, finds himself unable to speak. His face feels frozen, like a mask.
The attorney continues. ‘I’m not sure if Greg ever discussed with you what his intentions were, in the event of his death.’
Ted feels Jill’s eyes on him, senses her alarm. Time seems to stop. He clears his throat. ‘No, not really.’
There’s a tap on the open door and three other dark-suited attorneys, two men and an older woman, enter the room. Introductions are made all around. Ted can hear the blood pounding in his temples. He doesn’t dare look at Jill. What the fuck is going on?
‘It’s all a bit complicated,’ Marlon says, ‘but we will simplify everything for you as much as possible. Grace, do you want to take it from here?’
‘Certainly,’ the attorney, Grace Gervais, says.
‘I am Greg’s estates attorney and I prepared his will.
Please accept my sincere condolences.’ She regards both Ted and Jill with professionalism and sensitivity.
‘I know this is all very difficult and very new to you, and we will try to make it as easy as possible.’ She folds her hands and begins.
‘Because Greg was lost at sea and they haven’t been able to recover his body, there has as yet been no declaration of death, which is needed in order to begin winding up and administering his estate.
Therefore, in order to proceed, we must go to court to have Greg declared legally dead.
However, in New York, this is relatively simple.
A court can declare a person dead without a body if the deceased was exposed to a specific peril, and a thorough search has been made.
Which is precisely the situation we have here,’ Grace says with quiet confidence.
‘We can start that process for you.’ She looks at Ted inquiringly, as if for permission.
‘Yes, if that’s what you need to do,’ Ted says.
He knows all this; he wants to know what the fucking will says.
Because now he is afraid that Greg lied to him, and he’s not his heir at all.
Because that would be Greg all over. Did he murder Greg for nothing?
Fuck. He can feel himself perspiring underneath his arms, along his back. He doesn’t dare look at Jill.
‘I, myself, and this firm, are named as the executors under the will,’ Grace says, ‘for a fee, of course. Therefore, there is not a lot for you to do, except sign things from time to time.’ She adds, ‘It’s a blessing really – an executorship can be onerous – particularly when an estate is as large and as complicated as this one. ’
Ted simply stares at her, feeling the sweat trickle down his back.
‘Now let’s get down to the details,’ Grace says, ‘and I’ll give it to you in layman’s terms.’ She opens her leather folder and looks down at some papers. ‘Greg left one third of his estate to Mount Sinai Hospital. I believe that is where your mother was treated?’
Ted nods. This is a shock. A third of the estate is not a ‘small amount’.
Greg lied to him. For a terrifying second, he wonders if he is going to get anything at all.
Grace is still speaking. ‘There are some other, very minor bequests, but the remainder goes entirely to you, Ted, should you survive him by thirty days.’
One of the other attorneys speaks up. ‘We estimate the estate, upon disposition of the assets, will be worth forty-five million dollars, or thereabouts.’
Grace nods. ‘So that’s a sizable fortune you are coming into. Some of it is in the form of real property such as his home here in the city and his weekend place in the Hamptons, but most of it is held in his private investment corporation or tied up in his various companies.’
The relief is overwhelming. He’s getting $30 million. Not $45 million, but still. Ted can’t help emitting a small gasp. He was worried there for a minute, and he’s afraid it showed. He doesn’t expect what he hears next.
‘However,’ Grace continues, ‘on disposition, only half of it goes to you outright. The rest is to be put in a trust, for your benefit, until you reach the age of sixty-five. You will receive the income from the trust annually, of course, but will not be able to access the capital until you’re sixty-five. ’
Ted registers the insult, feels his face burn. He knows what trusts are for. They’re for children and people who don’t know how to manage their money. For idiots. Greg must have enjoyed drawing that up with his attorneys. He can sense Jill stiffening beside him.
But he decides he doesn’t really care. Greg is dead, somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, being nibbled at by fishes, and Ted is here, with Greg’s lawyers, coming into $30 million of Greg’s hard-earned money, $15 million in cash and a very healthy annual income from the rest. Ted will become a man of leisure.
The attorneys’ best advice at this point is to do absolutely nothing.
To have the lawyers go quietly about petitioning the court for the declaration of death so that they can get on with administering the estate, all of which, in any event, will take time.
They advise keeping a low profile and not talking to the press.
He is warned that people will appear, friends and strangers, wanting things from him, or with suggestions for how to spend his money – investments and so on.
They see this all the time, especially when they represent lottery winners, for example, which they have done on occasion.
The best advice they can give anyone who has come into sudden, enormous wealth, is to take a deep breath.
They tell them that it will probably be a year before the estate is finalized, so they have time to get used to it.
Jill follows Ted out of the boardroom, careful not to show her feelings.
Hands are quietly pressed all around, but smiles are reserved, given the circumstances.
Ted has not asked how long it will be before they get any money, which of course would be unseemly.
But it’s something they can surely ask in a month or two.
They can enjoy life, Jill tells herself, with prospects like these. Even if it is less than they expected.
They keep themselves in check while they’re in the elevator, but once they’re back inside Ted’s Porsche, in the underground parking lot, he turns to her and says, ‘Jesus Christ.’
She looks back at him and lets out a deep breath. ‘For a minute there I thought we were in trouble.’
‘Me too. Fucking Greg lied to me, telling me I was the sole heir.’ He turns to look out the windshield.
‘I think Marlon was afraid I’d be upset about half of it being locked up in a trust, but I don’t really care.
’ She doesn’t say anything. ‘We’ll have to keep a low profile for a while,’ he says.
‘Go back to work, act normally. We can’t look like we’re celebrating.
But it’s not for ever.’ She nods. ‘In the meantime, we can get a short-term mortgage on the house to pay off that loan. But don’t worry – as soon as the estate goes through, we can pay it right back. ’