Chapter 7: What the Solicitor Said
The firm's Edinburgh office was smaller than I expected.
Dark wood, tall windows, a view of a grey November street.
The solicitor's name was Mr.
Aldridge.
He was in his sixties, precise in the way of someone who had spent a career choosing words carefully.
He shook my hand first.
"Mrs.
Callahan.
I'm glad you were able to come."
Ryan sat beside me.
Thomas across the table.
Mr.
Aldridge opened a folder.
"I'll be direct," he said.
"This situation has become more complicated than it should have been, and I want to correct that." He looked at me.
"Your grandmother-in-law, Mrs.
Eleanor Callahan, made this bequest eleven years ago.
It was reviewed and reconfirmed twice — once six years ago and once two years before her passing.
Her instructions were consistent and clear."
"What exactly did she leave?" Ryan asked.
Mr.
Aldridge turned a page.
"Fourteen pieces of jewelry.
Three of them are of significant historical and monetary value.
Two brooches and a ring — all brought out of Kraków in 1946, when Eleanor left Poland.
The remaining eleven pieces are of moderate value but considerable personal significance." He paused.
"There is also a letter."
"A letter," I said.
"From Eleanor.
To be read by the recipient in private, after the formal meeting." He slid an envelope across the table.
My name was on the front in handwriting I didn't recognize — careful, slightly old-fashioned.
"She wrote it four years ago."
I looked at it.
Didn't pick it up yet.
"Why me?" I asked.
"She never met me.
Ryan and I weren't even together four years ago."
"She didn't specify you by name at that point.
The bequest was written to Ryan's future wife.
She updated the name after Ryan informed her of your engagement." Mr.
Aldridge folded his hands.
"Eleanor was very specific about her reasoning, and she included it in the letter.
But she also spoke to me about it directly, so I can share the general intention." He paused.
"She felt that the women who married into this family were often given very little.
She wanted to change that, in whatever way she still could."
The room was quiet.
Thomas was looking at his hands.
"She knew," Ryan said.
It wasn't quite a question.
"She had observed certain patterns over many years," Mr.
Aldridge said carefully.
"She was a precise woman.
She noticed things."
I thought of Diane.
Of the white gown in the garment bag.
Of the receipt dated three weeks before my wedding.
Of a woman who had spent thirty-one years — Thomas's words — making the people around her feel small.
Eleanor had seen it too.
And she had done the only thing she could do about it.
"There's one more matter," Mr.
Aldridge said.
He turned to a new page.
"The letter from this office that was sent to Mrs.
Diane Callahan as the listed contact — we were not informed that it had been opened and withheld.
We learned of this only through Thomas." He looked at me steadily.
"Interference with a legal bequest is a serious matter.
I want you to know that you have options, should you wish to pursue them."
"What kind of options?" Ryan asked.
"Civil, primarily.
The collection was always legally yours, Laura, from the moment of your marriage.
Withholding the notification constitutes interference with the execution of a legal document.
An attorney could advise you further."
I looked at Ryan.
He looked at me.
"We'll think about it," I said.
Mr.
Aldridge nodded.
He closed the folder.
"The pieces are in secure storage here in Edinburgh.
We can arrange transfer at your convenience." He stood.
"Take as long as you need with the letter."
He left the room.
Thomas stood as well.
"I'll wait outside," he said quietly.
He put a hand briefly on my shoulder as he passed.
Then the door closed, and it was just Ryan and me and the envelope on the table.
I picked it up.
The handwriting on the front was the same careful script.
*Laura.*
Just my name.
May you like
Like she'd known me.
I opened it.
