Chapter 9: The Meeting That Ended It
Marcus Webb was not what Clare expected.
He was forty-three, compact, unhurried, and he arrived in Burlington with a rolling briefcase and the quiet confidence of someone who had won difficult cases before and found the difficulty unremarkable.
He met with Clare and Eleanor for two hours in Aldrich's conference room the morning of the twenty-sixth.
He read every document.
He listened to the recording from the storage unit — all forty-seven minutes of it — without expression.
When it ended, he closed his laptop.
"Harrison's attorney is going to argue diminished capacity on the second will," he said.
"They'll say William was on medication, that he was influenced, that the document doesn't reflect his true intentions."
"Can they make that case?" Clare asked.
"They can make the argument.
They cannot make it succeed.
William's letter is twelve pages of precise, chronological, legally specific reasoning.
The man was not diminished.
He was methodical." Webb set his pen down.
"The recording is the more significant problem for Harrison.
The conversation between him and Croft includes explicit discussion of diverting estate funds.
That is not a civil matter."
"You mean criminal," Eleanor said.
"I mean the district attorney's office will have an interest in that recording.
Whether they act on it is their decision.
But yes."
Clare looked at her hands.
"I don't want to destroy him," she said.
"I want the estate settled correctly.
I want Eleanor's share restored.
I want my child's trust protected.
That's what I want."
"Those are achievable," Webb said.
"The criminal question is separate and not yours to control."
The meeting with Harrison happened that afternoon.
He came with Croft and a second attorney Clare didn't recognize.
He looked like he had not slept in two days.
He looked, for the first time since she had known him, like someone who understood that he had lost.
He still tried.
"Clare." He sat across from her and spoke as if the attorneys weren't in the room.
"Whatever the legal outcome of all this, I need you to know that I never stopped caring about you.
About our child.
Everything I did, I did because I believed I was protecting what my father built."
"You were protecting your share of what your father built," Clare said.
"That's different."
"Eleanor was a stranger.
She appeared out of nowhere with a DNA test and a claim on—"
"She appeared out of nowhere because your father had an affair and spent forty years trying to do right by her while you made it impossible." Clare kept her voice level.
"She's not a stranger.
She's family.
She was always family.
You just decided that was inconvenient."
Harrison looked at Eleanor.
"I'll double the original settlement," he said.
"Twenty percent.
No litigation, no board involvement—"
"The board is already involved," Webb said.
"Operational suspension was confirmed this morning."
Harrison's jaw tightened.
"The recording," Croft said carefully, "was obtained without consent in a private residence—"
"William Mercer owned the residence," Webb said.
"He installed the equipment.
He consented to the recording.
His consent is the only consent required."
Croft had no answer.
Harrison looked at Clare one more time.
The careful management was completely gone now.
What was underneath it was not what she had hoped to find.
It was not regret.
It was not love.
It was the look of someone calculating what was still salvageable.
"If I agree to the second will," he said, "will you keep the recording out of the DA's office?"
"That is not my decision," Clare said.
"It never was."
Harrison stood.
He buttoned his coat — the same wool coat from Christmas Eve, she noticed, and something about that detail was almost unbearable.
"I built that company," he said.
"I ran it for four years while my father was sick.
I kept it together."
"Yes," Eleanor said.
"You did.
And you'll still have forty percent of it."
He looked at her.
His half sister.
The woman he had paid to disappear.
"I didn't know how to share it," he said.
It was the closest thing to honesty she had heard from him in two days.
"I know," Eleanor said.
"That's the saddest part."
He walked out.
Croft gathered his papers and followed without speaking.
The door closed.
Webb was already writing.
"I'll have the settlement framework to Aldrich by end of day," he said.
"The board will ratify the second will at their session tomorrow.
Eleanor, you'll want your own representation for the transfer process — I can recommend someone in Burlington." He looked at Clare.
"And you should go back to the hospital and let them check you again before you travel."
"I know," Clare said.
"You've done what you came to do."
She looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor was looking at the fountain pen, which Clare had placed on the table at the start of the meeting.
William's pen.
The one Eleanor had given him at nineteen.
The one he had kept for forty years and hidden in a Christmas box for Clare to find.
May you like
"Can I keep it?" Eleanor asked.
"It was always yours," Clare said.
