The Man Must Marry(16)

He set it over the rose Abram had carved in the wood, and they all   walked back to the house in silence. There were several more hours of   condolences and handshakes. Willa heard comments on Abram's casket, on   the eulogy, and on Rosebriar. Speculation was whispered about what would   happen now. The consensus seemed to be that Tidewater International   would be divided up among the three grandsons. It was also agreed that   an era had ended.

But for all the strain of the afternoon, it went by much too quickly.   Within minutes, it seemed, Willa found herself sitting in one of the   four chairs Spencer had placed facing a television in the office. Staff,   distant relatives, and even some board members of Tidewater were   sitting and standing around the room. Ben, Jesse, and Sam were seated   beside her.

It was clear that they were going to see Abram Sinclair one last time,   in living, breathing color on a video tape. Just what she needed, to   hear Abram's voice again, probably in a lecture. She didn't want any   bequest beyond the cost of his casket, and even that was unnecessary.

Sam sat in stony silence beside Willa. He knew what was coming, and he   didn't like it. He'd decided to keep the contents of the will to   himself, giving Bram the pleasure of breaking the news to Jesse and Ben.   He'd only read the written terms; he hadn't seen the video. Spencer  had  somehow "forgotten" to tell him there was one. To the end, Bram's  old  friend had remained loyal. Spencer cleared his throat, and Sam  grabbed  hold of Willa's hands. She stopped wringing them and looked up  at him  with a white face. "I want to leave," she whispered.

"It'll be okay, Willa."

"I don't belong here."

"You will," he said, giving her a wink, then turning to nod at Spencer.

"Everyone here today has been asked to be here," Spencer said, going to the television and turning it on.

"Even Warren Cobb?" Jesse asked, glaring at the man leaning against Bram's desk, his cane resting beside him.

Warren Cobb was founder and majority shareholder of Starrtech,   Tidewater's closest rival.Warren was also Bram's childhood friend. They   had worked their way out of poverty together, but sometime during the   building of their separate empires, they'd become enemies. The reason   for this had gone to the grave with Bram, and Sam doubted thatWarren   would be any more forthcoming. But having read the will, he   understoodWarren 's interest in the proceedings today.

"Even Cobb," Spencer acknowledged. "He's here at Bram's request."

"Then let's find out why, Spence. Start the tape." Ben tugged at his tie.

Sam did the same. Not one Sinclair was comfortable in a tie, especially   Bram. Which is why Sam had taken his grandfather's tie off just before   they'd closed the casket that morning. And, as Bram was wont to do, Sam   had balled it up and stuffed it into the old man's jacket pocket,  giving  it a final pat for Peg. She was forever fishing out those ties  and  having to press them, and tonight she'd probably be pressing three  more.  Jesse had already shed his, and by the looks of things, Ben was  not far  behind him. Sam had loosened his own tie and unbuttoned his top  button,  but before this meeting was over, he'd want to use his tie to  strangle  someone.

Or more likely to gag Willa; she was going to scream the plaster off the   walls. Spencer started the tape. The video had been made inMaine , the   ocean showing in the window behind Bram as he sat at a battered table  in  a small, eclectically furnished cottage. Sam felt Willa tremble, and  he  wrapped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her snugly against his   side. She stared at the television, her eyes misted.

"He looks damn happy," he whispered.

"I'm going to miss him," she whispered back, not taking her eyes off the   screen. Abram cleared his throat, then pointed a finger at them and   scowled. "Does that red light mean they can see me?" he asked the   cameraman.

"It does, Bram. They can hear you, too," came Spencer's voice from somewhere off camera.

"Then listen up, people," Bram said, still pointing his finger. "This is   my last will and testament. And I'm of sound mind, so don't any of you   go trying to change it, you hear?"

"They hear you, Bram," came Spencer's voice again. "Don't worry. Everything is documented."                       
       
           



       

Sam glanced at Spencer now, sitting off to the side, his shoulders   hunched. This was hard for him. Spencer had been a good friend to Bram,   as well as a damn good lawyer. And he was still determined to be a good   friend, even if he might not agree with Bram's scheme. Sam would have   liked to have been a fly on the wall of that cottage this past month.   There must have been some hair-raising arguments over this will.

"Okay, then. Spencer said I should start with the smaller stuff, so   listen up," Bram growled. He didn't take his eyes off the camera, giving   everyone the uncomfortable feeling that he was looking straight at   them. Sam heard more than one body shift nervously behind him.

"Peg. You first, you old mother hen. I'm giving you the deed to that   little cabin up onWagonWheelLake you like so much. You've gone on and on   enough about it all these years. Well, you can damn well retire there   and shrivel away, if that's what you want." Bram pointed his finger.   "But not for three months. You'll continue housekeeping for the next   three months if you want that cabin."

There was a loud gasp from the back of the room, but no one turned to see if Peg was blushing or fuming.

"And Ronald. The Stutz Bearcat is yours, lock, stock, and steering wheel. You keep driving for three

months, and Spencer will give you the title. You've been drooling over   that car since I got it, always pestering me to take it out for a drive.   Well, my friend, drive it wherever you want-in three months."

An embarrassed cough came from near the door. Ronald had fallen in love   with the Bearcat the day Bram had taken him to the auto auction. Sam   figured his grandfather had bought the car more for their chauffeur than   for himself. Ronald was one proud puppy when he was behind the wheel,   delivering Bram to some meeting.

"Emerson, you fussy old woman," Bram boomed next. "I'm leaving you my   antique toy train collection since you can't seem to keep your paws off   it." Bram cackled. "In three months, you can sell it for enough to take   an honest-to-God real train ride around the world, if you want."

Sam turned in his seat, along with Ben and Jesse, to see Emerson slowly   walk out of the office, his bearing proud and his face red.

"And now for all you shirttail relatives who've been coming out of the   woodwork for the last forty years. Spencer's got the list of the lot of   you. I'm giving you each one thousand dollars, which is a hell of a lot   more than I had when I started. Go get jobs, you parasites."

Several gasps erupted around the room. Jesse's shoulders began to shake,   and Ben barely stifled a snort. The parade of beggars had been endless   at Rosebriar. Bram had been generous with some, miserly with others,  and  downright rude to most of them. In one month, Sam figured, the  parade  would start again.

"Now for the best part. Can I tell them now, Spencer?"

"No, Bram. You've forgotten the charities," Spencer replied patiently.   Bram waved that away. "I already signed the checks. Just send them out   after I'm planted."

"Willamina Kent ." Bram's voice shot out from the television, making her   jump. "I'm setting up a trust fund for that spitfire niece of yours,  so  you can just stop worrying about Jennifer."

Willa let out a deep sigh of relief and sagged tiredly. Sam gripped her   more firmly. She thought she was off the hook, but there was much more.

"Right now, Jennifer is taking delivery of a brand new SUV that's   specially equipped so she can learn to drive. And don't you worry. The   title is in Jennifer's and Shelby's names, not Richard's."

Two huge tears fell onto Willa's clasped hands. Sam undid the clip that   held her hair, letting it fall around her face to give her privacy. She   turned to him and tried to smile, and Sam kissed her forehead.

"Since you three boys already have your trust funds in place, that   leaves Rosebriar, my Tidewater shares, and my bankbook," Bram said. "And   I'm bequeathing them all to you, Willamina. Every last acre and every   last share and every last dime."