Chapter Fifty-One
THE AUGUST SUN shines outside the bedroom windows of the brownstone.
A year ago, Ted remembers, he and Jill had been planning Greg’s death.
Has it only been a year? Eleven months since Greg died.
It seems so much longer than that. Part of him wishes he’d known then what he knows now.
But part of him doesn’t mind, is almost grateful, because he’s a different man.
He likes who he is now. In spite of everything, and the mistakes he’s made along the way, he no longer feels like a failure, like a man disguising his own weakness.
He’s no longer unsure of himself or of his place in the world.
He belongs here. He has faced down more than most men, and it has made him stronger.
He wishes he could say the same for his wife. He is disappointed in her. This – the strain of it – has not made her stronger. She has allowed it to almost ruin her. He wishes she would rally. She may, still. Time will tell. But he knows, at least, that she will never leave him.
They are meeting with the attorneys today.
He dresses carefully, in a navy suit, white shirt and conservative tie.
She watches him in the mirror, already wearing the same black dress she wore to their first meeting with the attorneys last year.
He remembers how ravishing she looked then.
She has faded somewhat since. He wonders if she even realizes that she’s wearing the very same dress; she doesn’t seem to care.
He considers asking her to choose something else, other than black, but decides against it.
‘So this is it,’ she says.
‘Yes.’ The estate has been finalized. There are papers to sign, and then it will be done.
‘And we’ll be rich,’ she says, her voice flat.
He turns and looks at her. He takes her face gently in his hands. ‘Trust me,’ he says. ‘Everything will be all right. You’ll see.’
They have a quick coffee in the kitchen and then leave the brownstone together.
As Ted opens the car door for her, he remembers that day on the boat.
He wonders if Jill is thinking of it too.
He can still recall it all so clearly: the hostile, tumultuous sea; the mad howling of the wind; the unnerving, relentless pitch of the boat; the spray cascading over the sides, washing across the deck.
Jill sitting low, holding on for dear life, silently urging him on.
The nod she gave him. Do it now. He remembers the moment when he crossed the invisible line.
He hadn’t been sure – even with all the planning and with the conditions just right – he hadn’t really been sure he would do it until that moment.
But Greg, unsuspecting, turned away from him at the back of the boat, he saw his wife’s nod and the urging in her eyes, and suddenly he knew he could.
They drive without speaking across the Brooklyn Bridge and up to midtown Manhattan. Ted parks the car, and they enter the office tower and ride up the elevator to the twenty-third floor. When they enter the law firm’s reception area, the receptionist recognizes them and smiles at them warmly.
Ted’s attorney, Marlon Fiddick, comes out quickly to greet them and shakes their hands. With each meeting over the last many months, the aura of bereavement has lifted slightly more each time, and today Marlon seems almost cheerful.
‘Ah, so good to see you, Ted – Jill!’ he exclaims. ‘Come this way; we’re meeting in one of the boardrooms.’ Ted is now a very valued client of the firm; he is worth a fortune.
Ted and Jill follow him down the corridor to a boardroom, where a team of three lawyers is already assembled.
A representative from Ted’s bank is there as well, to discuss the transfer of the various funds.
He knows them all by now. Jill manages to be poised and charming.
It makes him wonder if she’s like this at work too, and if it’s only at home, with him, that she is so changed.
Everything has gone smoothly. Greg Westcott had been declared dead months ago.
The assets – the boat, cars, real estate, business holdings – have all been sold.
All is ready, and in record time. They are very good, very expensive attorneys.
All Ted has to do is sign a lot of papers, which he does, using a new Montblanc pen that he has bought specifically for this occasion.
He intends to enjoy it. The meeting takes most of the morning.
When it’s done, they all stand up and shake hands. There is a deference toward him that Ted enjoys. It’s amazing the status that tens of millions of dollars confers. He smiles graciously and thanks everyone for a job well done.
As they leave, he wonders how long it will take Min to get in touch.
They must prepare themselves.
When they arrive home, Jill collapses onto the sofa in the front room while Ted goes into the kitchen to grab some chilled champagne. He comes back with a bucket of iced Dom Pérignon and two flutes and sets it all down on the coffee table.
Jill stares at the silver ice bucket cradling the champagne.
The long meeting with the attorneys went without a hitch.
She wishes she felt like celebrating, but she’s too worried about what happens next.
She wishes she could be as sanguine as Ted is.
She watches him deftly uncork the bottle.
She used to find that sexy. She doesn’t any more.
He seems to read her thoughts, because he says, ‘It is what it is, Jill. We can’t change the past, but it’s going to be okay.’
She takes the glass he hands her. It bubbles and fizzes; she remembers how much she used to love champagne.
They clink glasses but make no toast. The future is too fraught, too uncertain.
‘Now that we have the money, how long until they make their demand, do you think?’ she asks.
They have speculated about how much it will be.
Five million? Ten million? It’s not thirty million he’s inherited, not really – it’s only fifteen that he can get his hands on. Maybe they will ask for twenty million.
‘I don’t know. I imagine it will be pretty quick. Min knows people at the firm – she’ll find out soon enough.’
The text comes four days later.
It’s Saturday morning. They are both at home. Ted is having coffee in the kitchen, but Jill has taken hers out to the garden when her phone pings. She looks at it, feels her blood drain away, and goes inside to show the phone to her husband.
YOU HAVE THE MONEY. CONGRATULATIONS! NOW IT’S TIME TO PAY.
Jill swallows, and glances at Ted. They knew this moment would come. It’s what they have been waiting for all these long, difficult months. Then another message comes through.
WE WILL START SMALL. ONE MILLION. IN BITCOIN. WILL SEND INSTRUCTIONS. STAND BY.
They stare at each other. This is it.
Jill numbly watches the instructions come in on her phone. They are to purchase and send the cryptocurrency to a provided wallet address. They know that it will be untraceable.
She looks at Ted. There’s a steadiness in his eyes, a courage that reassures her. He has surprised her these last few months. He’s not afraid. He looks ready for anything.