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Stella picked up her phone that sat face down on the table, glanced at the screen, and set it back down. “Please get on with it. You’re not our only appointment while we’re in New York.”
“Very well,” he repeated, pulling a document out of the folder in front of him and sliding it toward her.
“What is this?” she asked.
“That is the amount of assets in the trust Ms. Hunter established in your name.”
“This can’t be right.”
“I assure you
that it is.”
“Where did she get this kind of money?”
“I’m assuming your question is rhetorical.”
Stella turned to me, wide-eyed and speechless. She slid the piece of paper toward me. When I saw the amount listed, I too was wide-eyed.
“Gentlemen,” I looked up at Ink and Rock, neither of whom were seated. “Step out and close the door behind you.”
“I don’t understand,” said Stella, turning back to the attorney.
“From what I read in my colleague’s files, your aunt inherited money from her mother, your grandmother.” He rifled through the papers in the file. “Here it is. Ten million dollars, plus the ongoing income that came from your grandmother’s films.”
“But this says two-hundred million.”
“It appears your aunt had an astute financial planner. She did live off of a portion of the income, but most, she reinvested.”
“There’s something I don’t understand. You said my aunt inherited this money from her mother. What about my mother? Nothing was left to her?”
“I do remember seeing something about that in the notes. One moment.” He flipped through several more papers. “Here it is. The trust allowed for your aunt to support your mother, and subsequently you, throughout her lifetime, but no money was left to her directly.”
“Does it say why not?”
“Only that your mother forfeited her direct inheritance to her sister.”
Stella rolled one shoulder and then the other. “I have reason to believe my aunt left certain things in a safe-deposit box. Do you have information about that specifically?”
“I don’t recall anything about a safe-deposit box.” He sifted through more of the document and shook his head. “This would be where that information would be, and there is nothing listed.”
“You’re certain?”
“Quite.” He handed Stella a thick envelope. “This is your copy. I encourage you to read it in its entirety. I’m not saying it doesn’t contain the information you’re looking for, only that it isn’t where it should be.”
“Death certificate?” I whispered in Stella’s ear.
“Right,” she said. “May I have the copy of my aunt’s death certificate?”
The man cocked his head. “I don’t have a copy.”
“What do you mean? I requested it be delivered to you.”
“Excuse me.”
When he stood and left the conference room, Stella leaned forward and put her head in her hands.
“You okay?” I asked, rubbing her shoulder.
