The office was cluttered in an organized way, as if every stack of paper and family photo had been arranged for maximum credibility. Behind the desk sat Wilson Watkins, Esq., the same man who had handled my father’s affairs since the dawn of time, only now a little smaller and a little grayer and a little balder. His suit looked as if it had never known a wrinkle.
“Adam!” he boomed as he stood. “It’s good to see you, son.” He shook my hand with both of his, the grip firm and warm.
“You too, Mr. Watkins,” I lied, not seeing any reason to be rude and tell him how I truly felt.
I couldn’t remember specifically why I didn’t like the man, maybe it was just because he was, well…my father’s lawyer. Guilty by association. It didn’t mean I needed to be a dick when he was just doing his job now.
“Wilson, please. I’ve known you since you were swimmin’ in your daddy’s balls, I think we can be on a first name basis.”
There it was. Now I remembered why I didn’t like him. Inappropriate jokes. If they were just off-color, that would be fine, it was the ones he’d made about women that used to really piss me off. Even as a kid I remembered how uncomfortable he used to make women feel. How this man hadn’t been “Me Too’d” and gotten his practice taken away was either a mystery, or he had friends with money. If I were a betting man, I would guess it was the latter, sleazebags with deep pockets and influence.
He gestured for me to sit. “I only wish we were meeting under happier circumstances.”
“Thank you for handling everything with the funeral.” Even though I didn’t have a relationship with my father and considered this guy a disgusting excuse of a man, I still felt guilty for not returning to handle the situation myself and for leaving the logistics to his lawyer. “I appreciate it.”
“Your father was one of a kind.” Wilson teared up, then wiped his finger and thumb beneath his glasses and sniffed away his emotion as he blinked. “Looky there, my eyes are sweatin’.” He shook his head and straightened his posture. “I imagine you want to get straight to the point.”
“Sure.”
“Good news, there are no current wives or surprise heirs.” He opened a blue folder on the desk and smoothed the pages. “Now when it comes to your inheritance and trust, the last time your father revised his will was twenty years ago.” He arched an eyebrow for emphasis.
“Right.”
Watkins steepled his hands. “Let’s start with the house. That’s yours outright. No conditions. The deed is already being transferred to your name. But it has some back property taxesdue, and the city will be foreclosing on it if you can’t come up with those.”
“Property taxes?”
“The last few years of his life, your father wasn’t the mostfrugalwith his estate. He was a romantic at heart, and the women he allowed into his life, well, they bled him dry. Which is why the condition of your trust and inheritance is so interesting to me.”
“I have to be married to collect it.”
“He told you about that?” He looked surprised.
I overheard.“I’m aware.”
“Are you also aware that both the trust and inheritance are contingent on you being married for a minimum of ninety days? After that period, the funds become available to you without restriction, and the amount that is in them.” He pulled a sheet from the folder and slid it across the desk. “Your father invested wisely.”
“Only ninety days?” I wasn’t aware of that, no.
I looked down at that paper, and holy shit… no, I hadn’t been aware of the amount. That was a lot of zeros. A. Lot. It was amazing what millions of dollars invested wisely could generate in interest, dividends, and capital gains.
If I had access to this money, I could pay the back property taxes, I could reimburse Maddox, Alex, and Nick, and restore the house. And most importantly, the girls would be financially secure for the rest of their lives. Their education, health insurance, their future, everything.
Watkins pulled another paper from a different folder and slid it across the desk. “You can see it in your father’s own handwriting. He was very insistent.”
I read the print, my eyes catching on the words: “In the event of my son’s marriage, a period of no less than ninety (90)days must elapse before the trust and/or inheritance assets are distributed given he is thirty years of age or older.”
It was insane actually seeing the terms in writing. In my father’s handwriting.
“Well, I’m not married, and I’m not going to get married, but is there any way I can have access to those funds just so I don’t lose the house? I didn’t accrue that debt, he did. Are there any loopholes?”
Watkins stared at me for several seconds, deciding whether or not he wanted to help me. “Let me see what I can do and get back to you.”
I stood and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time.”
As I left the office, Billie’s offer came back to me, the agreement we’d made on the night of my dad’s wedding.
“If you ever need the money, then I will marry you.”
