The House (14 page)

“There is also the matter of the house that your great-uncle lived in. I went through it with a realtor last week, to try and get a realistic appraisal. It's a remarkable place, and I think you should see it. It was built in the twenties, and unfortunately, it hasn't been remodeled, renovated, or modernized since. It's almost like a museum. Your great-uncle lived in a small portion of the house, the attic actually. He never occupied the main portion of the house. It has remained untouched since 1930, when he bought it. I had renovation architects, who specialize in this kind of project, look at it on Friday, to give me an assessment of what it would cost to bring it up to current code and get it in shape. There's a broad range of possibilities of what that work would entail. You could spend as little as five hundred thousand dollars to clean it up, make it livable, and bring it up to code, or ten times that if you really want to do it up and make a showplace of it. The same is true of selling the house. The realtor said we could get anywhere from a million to twenty million for it, depending on who buys it, and current real estate market values. In the current condition it's in, you won't get much for it, because it would be an enormous project for someone to undertake, and not many people want to live in a house that large anymore. It's roughly thirty thousand square feet. No one wants to employ staff to run a house that size these days, or can even find them. My recommendation to you would be to sell it. Maybe clean it up, take the boards off the windows, polish up the floors, and maybe put a coat of paint on the walls, but put it on the market essentially as is, without undertaking the more costly work of electricity and plumbing and renovation according to current code. That could cost a fortune. Unless of course one of you would like to buy the others out, and move to San Francisco and live there. I thought we could go to see it this afternoon. It might help you make the decision. It's a beautiful old home, and if nothing else, it's worth a visit.”

Before she had finished, they were all shaking their heads. None of them had plans to move to San Francisco, and they agreed, talking about it, that a renovation project of that magnitude was the last thing they wanted. Voices all around the table were saying “Sell it… get rid of it…unload it… put it on the market …” Even the coat of paint and minor clean-up she had suggested to them was of no interest. It made her sad to hear it. It was like throwing away a once-great beauty. Her time had passed, and no one wanted anything to do with her. The other heirs had to be consulted, of course, but since they hadn't even come to San Francisco for the meeting, it was unlikely they would feel any different.

“Would you like to see it this afternoon?” Only Tom Harrison said he had time to, although he too felt they should sell it. He said he could stop by on the way to the airport. The others all had flights back to their own cities early that afternoon, and they unanimously told Sarah to put the house on the market, and sell it as it was. Their bequests from Stanley were so large, and so exciting to them, that the sale of the house and what they got seemed to make little difference to them. Even if they got two million for it, it would only give them an additional hundred thousand dollars each. And after taxes, even less. To them now, it was a pittance. An hour before it would have been a windfall. Now it meant nothing to them. It was amazing how life could change in a single unexpected moment. She smiled as she looked around the table. They all looked like decent people, and she had the feeling Stanley would have liked them. Those who had come looked like wholesome, nice individuals, whom he would have enjoyed being related to. And they were certainly ecstatic over having been related to him.

She brought them to order once again, though with increasing difficulty. They were all anxious to leave the conference room, and contact spouses, siblings, and children. This was major news for all of them, and they wanted to share it. She assured them that the money would begin to come in within the next six months, sooner if they could get it through probate. The estate was extremely clean.

“I have one last matter of business. Apparently Stanley, your great-uncle, asked me to read you a letter. I just learned today that he gave it to one of my partners six months ago, and I'm told it contains a codicil to his will, which I have not yet seen. My associate gave it to me this morning. I'm told Stanley wanted it read, after the reading of the will, which we've done now. I received it sealed myself, and have no idea what it contains. I've been assured that nothing in its contents alters the will in any way. With your permission, I'll read it now. I can make copies of it for you after I do. It's been sealed, per his instructions, since my colleague received it.” Sarah could only assume it was some sort of thoughtful message, or minor addition, to the heirs he knew he would never meet. It was the sweet and gruffly sentimental side of Stanley that Sarah had known and loved. She slit it open with a letter opener she had brought to the meeting for that purpose. They attempted to listen politely, although there was an almost palpable electricity and excitement in the room, from all that they had heard before. They could hardly sit still, and who could blame them? She was excited for them, too. It had been a thrill for her just announcing the gift to them. She was only the messenger, but even that had been a joy for her. She would like to have had some small sentimental token from him for herself, but there were none to have. All he had were books, and the clothes they had given to Goodwill. He didn't own a single item or memento worth having. All he had had was his vast fortune, and his house. He literally had no other worldly possessions at all. Just money. And nineteen strangers to leave it to. It was a big statement about his life, and who he had been. But he had been important to her, as much as he now was to them. In his final years, Sarah was, in fact, the only person he had loved. And she had loved him.

Sarah cleared her throat again, and began reading the letter. She was surprised to notice that she held it in trembling hands. There was something deeply moving about seeing his tremulous handwriting stretched out across the pages, and as he had promised her, there was a line at the bottom, ratifying his current will and witnessed by two of his nurses. Everything was in order. But she knew these were the last words from her friend Stanley that she would ever read, even if official, and not directed at her. It was like his last whisper from the grave, a final farewell to all of them. She would never see that handwriting, or hear his voice again. The thought of that brought tears to her eyes, as she fought to keep her voice steady. In some ways, he had meant more to her, as a friend and client, than he had to any of them.

“To my dear relatives, and to my friend and attorney, Sarah Anderson, who is the best attorney in the business, and a wonderful young woman,” she began, as the tears clouded her eyes, and she took a deeper breath, then went on. “I wish I had known you. I wish I had had children of my own, and grown old knowing them, and their children, and you. I spent my life, all of it, making the money that I have left you. Use it well, do things that are important to you. Let it make a difference in your life. Don't let it
be
your life, as it was for me. It's only money. Enjoy it. Make your lives better because of it. Share it with your children. If you don't have children, have some, soon. They will be the best gift you ever had. This is my gift to you. Maybe it's time for you to enjoy new lives, or new opportunities, new worlds you wanted to discover, and can now, before it's too late. The gift I want to leave with you is one of options and opportunity, of a better life for you, and those who are important to you, not just money. In the end, the money means nothing. Except for the joy it gives you, what you do with it, and the lives you touch, the difference you make to the people you love. For most of my life, I loved no one. I just worked hard and made money. The only person I loved in the last years of my life was Sarah. I wish she had been my daughter, or my granddaughter. She is everything I would want a child of mine to be.

“Don't feel sorry for me. I had a good life. I was happy. I did what I wanted to do. It was exciting to build a fortune, to create something out of nothing. I came to California at sixteen with a hundred dollars in my pocket. It grew a lot in all these years, didn't it? Which shows what you can do with a hundred dollars. So don't waste this money. Do something important with it. Something that matters to you. Give yourselves better lives, give up jobs you hate, or that stifle you. Let yourselves grow and feel free with the gift I am leaving you. My wish for you is happiness, whatever that means to you. For me, happiness was building a fortune. In retrospect, I wish I had taken the time to build a family, too, but I didn't. You are my family, even though you don't know me, and I don't know you. I didn't leave my money to the SPCA, because I never liked dogs and cats much. I didn't leave it to charity, because they get enough of other people's money. I left it to you. Use it. Have fun with it. Don't waste it, or hoard it. Be better and happier and freer now because you have it. Let it help you make your dreams come true. That is my gift to you. Follow your dreams.

“I also want to acknowledge my dear, beloved Sarah, my young friend and attorney. She has been like a granddaughter to me, the only family I ever had, since my parents died when I was a boy. I am very proud of her, although she works too hard. Don't you, Sarah! I hope you will learn a lesson from me. We talked a lot about it. I want you to go out and have a life now. You've earned it. You've already worked harder than some people do in their whole life, except maybe me. But I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be better. I want you to be you, the best you that you can be. I haven't said this to anyone in fifty years, but I want you to know that I love you, like a daughter, or a grandchild. You are the family I never had. And I am grateful for every moment you spent with me, always working too hard, helping me to save my money from taxes, so I could give it to my relatives. Thanks to you, they have more money and I hope they will have better lives now because of your work and mine.

“I want to make a gift to you. And I want my relatives to know why I did that. Because I love you, and you deserve it. No one deserves it more than you. No one deserves a good life more than you, even a great life. I want you to have that, and if my relatives give you a hard time about it, I'm going to come back from the grave and kick their asses. I want you to enjoy the gift I am leaving you, and do something wonderful with it. Don't just invest it. Use it for a better life. Being of sound mind, and completely deteriorating body, dammit, I hereby bequeath to you, Sarah Marie Anderson, the sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I thought a million would make you nervous, and might piss them off, and half a million didn't seem like enough to me, so I compromised. Above all, darling Sarah, have a wonderful happy life, and know that I will be watching over you, with love and thanks, always. And to all of you, you have my best wishes and my love, along with the money I have left you. Be well, go well, and may your days be happy and worthwhile, and filled with people you love.

“I am, on this date, Stanley Jacob Perlman.” He had signed it in his all-too-familiar handwriting, which Sarah had seen on so many documents before this. It was his last good-bye to her and to all of them. There were tears rolling down her cheeks, as she set the letter down, and looked at the others. She spoke to them in a hoarse voice, filled with emotion. She had never, ever expected to receive anything from him, and wasn't even sure she should now. But she was also aware that his doing the codicil via one of her partners, and not with her, made it legal. He had done everything by the book.

“I had no idea what was in this letter. Do any of you object to it?” She was willing to give up the bequest. They were his relatives, she was only his attorney, although she had genuinely loved him, which they hadn't.

“Of course not,” the women said in unison.

“Hell, no,” Jake, the cowboy, added. “You heard what he said, he said if we did, he'd come back and kick our asses. I don't need no ghost giving me a hard time. Ten million after-tax dollars will do just fine for me and my kids. I may even buy myself a sexy young wife.” The others laughed at what he said, and there were nodding heads of assent around the room. Tom Harrison spoke up, as he patted her hand. One of the women handed her a tissue to blow her nose. Sarah was so moved, she was almost sobbing. The best part was that he had said he loved her. Although he was almost a hundred years old in the years she knew him, he had been the father she'd never had, the man she had respected most in her life, in fact the only one. Good men had not been abundant in her life.

“It sounds like you deserve the bequest a lot more than we do, Sarah. You obviously brought him a lot of comfort and joy, and saved us a lot of money,” Tom Harrison said as everybody nodded and smiled. “I'm sorry for your loss,” Tom added, which only made her cry harder.

“I really miss him,” she said, and they could see she did. Several of them almost wished they could put their arms around her, but didn't. She was the attorney, and they didn't know her, although all their emotions were running high. Stanley had affected them all profoundly, and shaken their respective worlds to the core.

“You made his last days a lot happier, from everything he said in that letter,” one of the women said kindly.

“Hell, yes, and you're almost a millionaire now,” Jake added, and Sarah laughed.

“I have no idea what I'll do with the money.” She made a good salary as a partner, shared in the firm's profits, and had never had big financial needs. There was really nothing she wanted. She was going to make some good, solid investments, in spite of Stanley's entreaties to do otherwise. She was hardly about to quit her job and start buying mink coats and taking cruises, although he might have liked that. But it wasn't Sarah's style to indulge herself, even now that she could. She saved a lot of what she made.

“Neither do we,” several voices said around the room. “We'll all have to figure out what to do with the money. It's obvious he wanted all of us to have a good life,” a man next to Jake said solemnly. He was seated between the cowboy from Texas and the policeman from New Jersey. She hadn't put faces to all the names yet. “And you, too, Sarah,” he added. “You heard what he said. Use it. Don't hoard it. Follow your dreams.” She had no idea what her dreams were. She had never taken the time to ask herself that question.