Holding her hands in her lap, Laura fingered her wedding band.
“Now we come to the major bequests,” McGrath announced. “The primary residence, business interests, the cash and insurance.” He rustled several papers. “Jerry thought out his final wishes very carefully. He wanted to provide for his family in all aspects.”
Premonition washed over her, and Laura straightened in her chair.
“To that end,” McGrath continued, “he appointed Paul Russell as his executor and trustee.”
Sitting perfectly still, she could barely breathe.
“Jerry left his entire estate, in trust, to be divided equally, between his children, Kirsten Elaine Manning and Gregory Gerard Manning…. I’m afraid there’s no provision for you, Mrs. Manning.”
No provision. Despite her shock, Laura knew what that meant. It was fancy legal talk for what her shaking insides were trying to absorb. Jerry still had a choke hold on her and he wasn’t going to let go.
Chapter One
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Manning, but I’m afraid there’s little you can do, other than bring an action against the trust.” Tom Baldwin, the lawyer Laura had contacted, looked at her kindly, his sympathetic tone releasing the tears that lurked close to the surface.
“Sue my own children?” Laura reached for a tissue. “That’s not an option.”
“Perhaps the executor will be open to your plans.”
Laura grasped her purse, needing to cling to something, anything. The world had turned on end since the reading of the will and she wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Most of their acquaintances assumed Jerry’s death would have affected her this way. But they didn’t know him like she did. To them he was the engaging charmer, the great, outgoing guy who’d been a football star in high school and college. And she’d been the shy loner he’d chosen to marry. Few had understood the match, but plenty of girls had envied her. Because Jerry was “the man.”
Jerry’s only stroke of bad luck was colon cancer, undetected until it was too late. But he had enough time to dictate the terms of his will. Six weeks from diagnosis to death.
She had wondered if the diagnosis would change him, but not even a death sentence could reverse whatever propelled his meanness. For her, his death couldn’t negate fourteen years of emotional abuse, of being worn down, of always being afraid that his temper would blow. And he’d seen to it that she had to ask Paul, a virtual stranger, permission for nearly everything.
“Mrs. Manning?” Baldwin’s quiet voice prodded her.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes. “I have no idea how the executor will feel.”
Baldwin frowned. “Really? Wasn’t he your husband’s partner?”
“Yes. But I only met him a few times.”
“How extraordinary.”
“Not if you had known Jerry. He didn’t include me in anything related to the business. All I really know about Paul is that he was Jerry’s college friend and that he lives in a small town in the hill country.”
And two days earlier, as soon as the will had been read, Paul had left, telling her to talk to Jerry’s lawyer about her concerns. He’d mentioned something about a sick sister and apologized to the Mannings for his abrupt departure.
“You and Jerry didn’t go to college together?”
“No, I’m four years younger. I met him when I was a high school senior.” She’d been too young and gullible, anxious to get away from her equally abusive parents. Trapped in the cycle of demoralizing emotional abuse. Why her? “Anyway, Jerry and Paul go way back.”
“But you had no idea that Jerry had given him such extensive control?”
“No.” She stared at the framed law degrees on the wall, not reading them. “He told me he’d had a new will drawn up because of the complexities of the business.”
Baldwin peered at the thick sheaf of papers. “He’s left Russell in charge of everything from determining the amount of your allowance to where your children can attend school.”
She leaned forward, her knees pressing the desk. “Can I fight that?”
“Yes. But I warn you, it will be expensive.”
And where would she get the money?
“Surely half the house is mine because of community property?”
Baldwin nodded. “Yes. But unless you can buy out your children’s half, you can’t sell it. Any of the assets you wish to claim, remember, will necessitate litigation. And again, that will be expensive.”
Her throat closed. For fourteen years Jerry had bullied her, had killed almost everything that she was. And he was still doing it from the grave.
Tom Baldwin wasn’t an unfeeling man. “Talk to Paul Russell,” he urged. “Surely he’ll see that this document was drawn up in haste, by a man who wasn’t seeing clearly. Death makes people do crazy things.”
Not in this case. This move was one hundred percent pure Jerry.
Rosewood, Texas
Paul jogged the remaining three blocks of his run, slowing as he came to Main Street. He turned at Borbey House, inhaling the smell of pies baking in Annie Warren’s kitchen. He groaned. The Sorenson bakery was in the next block. They were probably baking cinnamon buns. It was what he deserved for putting his office right smack in the middle of them both.
His cell phone rang. Since it was still early, he considered ignoring it as he decided between pie and pastry, but by habit he flipped open the phone, slowing to a walk.
“Russell.”
It took him a few moments to realize who was calling and why. As he did, his mood soured. “Laura, slow down. It’s clear to me from Jerry’s will that he didn’t act in haste, that he knew exactly what he wanted.”
Her voice was plaintive. “What about what I want for my children?”
“I don’t mean any disrespect, but my friend chose me to be his executor and I have to act on his behalf.” My friend who’s now gone. Leaving a gaping hole in both the business and what had been an eighteen-year friendship. Jerry had been like an older brother, first taking him under his wing at the University of Texas.
Jerry hadn’t treated him like the small town hick some others had, instead drawing him into his group of friends. Grateful, Paul had been eager to go into partnership with him after graduation. It seemed hard to believe he had been such a vital, strong man only a short time ago.
“What about the company?” she was asking.
He stopped walking, bending at the waist to stretch. “What about it?”
“Jerry was your partner. I’m prepared to take his place.”
“Excuse me?” Paul was glad she couldn’t see his face.
“I said I’m prepared to take his place.”
“You want to work in the firm?” He wiped the sweat from his neck.
“Yes.”
Paul stretched his right leg. “I don’t remember Jerry ever talking about you helping with the deals.”
“Well…I didn’t exactly. That doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”
“And who’s supposed to teach you?”
“You.