“You don’t have to,” Griffin said.
Priscilla gazed at him, wondering if he suspected something. But wouldn’t Charlie opening the envelope benefit his cause? There had been secrets hidden away, obviously from her mother. That could be the only answer. Why would Griff want to stop Charlie then? He returned her stare, his stormy gray eyes haunted. He hurt, deeply and painfully, by what he did.
She gasped, stunned by the raw emotion he allowed her to see. Her heart tumbled. Everything he’d written on her blog this morning touched a place deep inside her by his show of vulnerability; however, seeing the scope and breadth of it in person shook her to her core.
The sound of Charlie unsealing the envelope dragged Priscilla’s attention away from her husband and to her stepsister.
“There’s a note, too,” Charlie said. She skimmed it, chuckling. “Princess, that’s what he called me. My little Princess. He hoped I knew how much he loved me, how much I reminded him of my mother and her gentle, loving ways. He’d hoped one day I would understand the difficult decisions he’d made by marrying another woman. He wanted me to have a family again.” She sucked in a breath, and then dug into the envelope, pulling out a square box. She flipped it open. “My mother’s rings.” The diamonds sparkled. “He kept them for me.”
“That’s them,” Dolly said, leaning over to admire the set. “I always wondered what became of them. I just thought the Barracuda had them in the safe.”
“There’s more,” Charlie said, handing the rings to Alex and diving back into the envelope. She pulled out a thick folded document.
Again Priscilla noticed Edward catching Griffin’s stare. Their unspoken communication could only mean one thing. There was something there, maybe even incriminating. But for who?
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said. “It’s his will…”
“Let me see, honey.” Dolly got up, nudged Alex aside. “Trade seats with me, Mr. R.” He did as instructed. She plopped down beside Charlie. Dolly flipped through until she got to the last page. “I knew it! Signed on my birthday. I told you, Mr. G. —there was another will.”
“Another will?” Priscilla asked, looking at Griff as memories flooded back. “That’s why you had that document drawn up stating you didn’t want any part of King’s or my possible future inheritance. You knew.”
“My father knew. No one believed him.” His short, to the point answer said little, but Priscilla read between the lines.
“The accusations.” It wasn’t a question. All this time, he’d pursued the truth and no one would listen. Not even her.
“What does it say?” Alex asked. Charlie handed it to him, her hand shaking. He skipped the opening standard language and got to the meat of the document. “He leaves King’s Department Store to Charlie…” He glanced up quickly to his wife.
“No, he left it to Stepmother,” Charlie said.
“In trust,” he continued, “until you reach the age of twenty-one. Also, a trust fund of millions.”
“But Mother said, you didn’t have a trust fund,” Francie said in stunned wonder.
“He leaves the house to both Francie and Prissy, so they always know they have a home. Both of you have trusts worth millions, too, to be distributed when you reach twenty-one.” Alex continued reading half out loud and half to himself. “Dolly receives a sizeable pension for all her devotion to the King family over the years.”
“Why, I ain’t got squat from you-know-who. I knew he’d never forget me.” Dolly sniffed back tears.
“His second wife, Agnes, shall receive the grand sum of two million dollars, to live out her life. She will no longer stay employed at King’s or have anything to do with the running or decision making of King’s from this time forward.”
“What?” Priscilla asked. “He kicked Mother to the curb? Even back then? And he put her on a budget.” Dawning hit. She swung her gaze to Griffin. “Daddy wanted her out of the store. He suspected something.”
“Maybe he realized she wasn’t such a people person,” Marcus chimed in, holding Francie’s hand.
“He bequeaths his personal items here in detail. His heartfelt appreciation to King’s employees,” Alex murmured.
Charlie sighed heavily, apparently drained.
“There’s more. And—” Alex stopped short, glancing at Griffin, and then back at the document. “James Weatherford, my dearest friend and attorney, shall be the executor of my estate and the head of the trust fund for both King’s and my daughters’ trust funds. In my stead, I leave him the great task of watching over my precious daughters. Of course, he refuses any compensation for himself or his heirs for conducting this business and following my wishes for many years to come. His loyal friendship and devotion to the King family will be forever remembered with undying gratitude. Everyone should be as lucky as I am to have such a remarkable friend.”