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“You okay?” Kane asks me when he returns and slides into his seat. His tone is the first indication that he’s aware of how overwhelming this must be for me.
“No. I mean, yes, I guess.... This-this is going to change my whole life.”
“I imagine it will.”
I shake my head, still having trouble gaining purchase on the events of the last twenty minutes.
“Please,” I say, not even bothering to hide the pleading tone to my voice. “You must havesomeidea why he did this. You have to tell me.”
“As I said on the phone, I have no clue.”
“Christopher Whaley just showed up one day and asked you to set this in motion without any explanation?”
“More or less. He came to me shortly after his diagnosis, and it was clear he wanted to move quickly because he wasn’t sure how much time he had left. I tried to probe a little, but he made it clear he didn’t want to discuss anything beyond getting the paperwork out of the way.”
Okay, so maybe he’s clueless. But someone somewhere must know the reason.
“Do you feel his mother meant it when she said for me to take the money and run?”
Kane adjusts the pen in front of him, realigning it perfectly with the folder again.
“Caroline’s a smart woman, and a powerful one,” he says firmly. “Until a few years ago, she ran a very successful real estate agency in Westchester County, and I doubt she says much she doesn’t mean. Now, there’s more for us to touch base about, specifically the transfer of assets, but I’m afraid we’ll need to do that by phone tomorrow or Wednesday. I have another meeting in a few minutes, and I’m also waiting for certain details from the trustee you’ll be dealing with. That’s the person who holds the purse strings, not me.”
I still have so many questions, but the meeting is clearly over.
“You’ll call me?”
“Yes.
I start to push out of my chair again, but Kane lifts a hand, palm forward. “Before you leave, there’s one more thing I need to mention. This particular trust was in Chris’s name and his name alone, which means that he could appoint it to whomever he wished, and the terms didn’t have to be included in the joint will he had with his wife, Jane. Since I assumed she believed the trust would be going to her or her children, I felt obliged to inform her, as a courtesy, that her husband had decided to make other arrangements.”
“She knows my name?” I say, my stomach clenching.
“No, no. I explained that I wasn’t allowed to divulge who the beneficiary was. Just so you’re aware, she’s not taking the situation as lightly as Chris’s mother is. To avoid any awkwardness or unnecessary drama, I would urge you to be extremely discreet. Tell as few people as possible about the circumstances of meeting him—or about the trust at all.”
I nod. I have no intention of breathing another word about it.
“Is there anyone else who might end up being pissed?” I ask as Kane rises from his chair. “I mean, I saw in the obit that Christopher Whaley had a brother.”
“I imagine Liam has his own trust from their father and wasn’t counting on anything from Chris. From what I know, he’s already returned to Argentina, where he’s lived for many years.”
Now that he’s done with the last point, Kane herds me out into the hallway and back toward reception. I ask where the ladies’ room is and inform him I’ll see myself out the rest of the way. It’s not until I’m in the anteroom outside the stalls that I realize how shaken I am. My pulse is racing, and my knees feel wobbly, like I’ve just come within inches of being mowed down by a passing car.
I sink onto a long chrome and white leather bench, take a deep breath and try to process what I’ve learned. As I surmised when I first walked in the door, it seems pretty clear that this isn’t a con. I’m here at a fancy-pants law office and I doubt they make extra money hoodwinking thirtysomething, calico-cat-owning single women living in crappy apartments in the East Village.
And as it turns out, I actually did know Chris Whaley.
But I don’t have even an inkling about why he decided to leave me a fortune. Caroline says I must have meant something to her son, butwhat? Though we spent a sublime, erotically charged night together, it was onlyonenight. Plus, I was a fairly inexperienced twenty-five-year-old, so I find it hard to believe he left me over three million dollars because he’d had the best sex of his life with me.
I finally give myself permission to start thinking about what this money means for me. First and foremost, the chance to try for ababy—and to raise my child without being in a constant state of financial anxiety.
But also enough to drastically reduce the number of graphic design jobs I undertake and instead focus on my creative work. Maybe even a better apartment down the road. A chance to travel a little.
As my eyes swell with tears, I rest my head in my hands. Is this really, really happening? Is my entire life about to change? Or could there be a hitch I’m not seeing?
“Is everything all right?”
I look up in surprise. The elegant receptionist is standing just inside the door, and something tells me she’s come specifically to check on me. What does she think—that I’m planning to stuff rolls of toilet paper into a tote bag to take home? I should tell her that’s a practice I gave up a couple of years ago.
