“MeeMee,” he called and I looked back to him. “If he’s playing some game, you don’t want to lose it and fall into his plans. You also don’t want the kids, who know they should be here and are already probably stressed out that they aren’t, to be more stressed with you phoning and texting. Give them another half an hour. If they don’t show, call Auden again. If he doesn’t answer, call Conrad just to be sure they’re okay. In the meantime, try to relax.”
Relaxing was an impossibility.
I was a wreck.
Lawrie read it.
“MeeMee, sweetheart, I know this is a big day. It’s a big day for the kids too. But you have to guide it. Get in that space. Okay?”
What he meant was that I had to pull myself together.
Again.
Because of Conrad’s antics.
Again.
But I had made up my mind that he would never again best me.
So I nodded.
The doorbell rang.
I tensed.
I didn’t recognize the shadow in the glass, which was concerning.
As I studied it, Lawrie said, “This is ready. Get it in the plate and pour that gunk in it. I’ll get the door.”
He gave me no opportunity to reply, he walked toward the door.
I rolled the crust on the rolling pin and was spreading it out over the pie plate when I heard, “Signed delivery.”
That surprised me.
Who did signed deliveries on holidays?
I kept spreading as I watched Lawr sign then take the envelope with an expression of gratitude before he closed the door and turned to me.
He was walking and examining the envelope.
He got to the end of the counter and lifted it up. “Mom and Dad’s attorneys.”
I relaxed.
“I have Preston amassing information I can use against Conrad in case he feels the need to get ugly in the future,” I told him something I’d shared previously.
Lawrie didn’t think this was a suitable explanation. I knew it by the puzzled expression on his face as he studied the envelope.
I crimped the crust as I said, “It’s probably something to do with that.”
“Special delivery on a holiday?” Lawrie asked.
I shrugged.
“Can I open it?” he queried.
“Go for it,” I invited.
I kept crimping and had moved on to pouring the pumpkin in the crust when he growled, “Son of a bitch.”
My attention snapped to him.
He looked angry.
No, he looked enraged.
I tensed again but not much. It was likely Conrad had done some other horrible thing while we were married and Preston’s investigator had found it.
But except for today’s situation, Conrad had been quiet and not annoying me. So even though it was good to have all the ammunition I might need, so far he hadn’t done anything to make me consider using it.
“If this is going to annoy me, considering Conrad is already pissing me off today, if you could just take that to my room and shove it somewhere the kids can’t see, I’ll look at it later.”
Lawrie gave his eyes to me. “It isn’t from Preston. It’s from Addison.”
I stared at him.
Addison Hillingham was my parents’ attorney at the firm. He was a managing partner.
He was also the executor of the Calway trusts.
“I’m sorry?” I asked my brother.
“Put that in the oven” he ordered.
“Lawrie—”
“Get it baking, Amelia.”
Oh God.
He called me Amelia.
He never called me Amelia unless something was happening where he had to go all big brother, like I was doing something stupid after Conrad dumped me, he’d heard about it and he called me to tell me to stop it and pull myself together.
I quickly put the pie in the oven then turned back to Lawrie.
“What?” I whispered.
“I’ll preface this by saying this is bullshit.” He waved the expensive, thick-stock paper in the air. “Clearly you’ve delivered some perceived slight to Mom and Dad and this is their way of communicating who holds the power.”
Oh God.
“What, Lawrie?”
He drew in a deep breath.
Then he gave it to me.
“They’ve petitioned Addison to examine the terms of your Calway trusts, both the one they set up for you and the one all Calway heirs receive. This request is in regards to your behavior after Conrad left you. They’ve shared with Addison you acted in a manner unbefitting a Calway heir, which breaks the terms of the trusts, and they’ve asked him to consider revoking them.”
I stared at my brother thinking I just knew something was up with them.
“They can’t do this,” Lawrie continued. “I was there on more than one occasion where they encouraged you to communicate your distaste for Conrad’s desertion, doing this with what is for them not a small amount of glee. I know Robin was too. We’ll both prepare statements and send them to Addison. If you’re truly in danger, and you’re not, the terms of the trust state that it can be revoked only if behavior garners public attention, which yours did not, then Dad’s in the same position because he encouraged you to do so.”
I kept staring at him, unable to speak.
“Regardless, Addison’s firm gets a retainer from the trust, not Mom and Dad, and he’s a good man,” Lawrie reminded me. “He’ll do what they ask but he’ll adhere to the letter of the trust. This is just posturing and the timing of this delivery is not lost on me. They’re making a point, just like Mom and Dad.” He tossed the papers aside. “Forget it for today. I’ll phone Robin tomorrow and get to work on your rebuttal.”
“They can have it,” I whispered.
“Pardon?” Lawrie asked.
I focused on him. “They can have it. I have the Bourne trust they can’t touch. It’s twenty-five million dollars. I don’t live a lavish lifestyle. I don’t intend to live a lavish lifestyle. But I can easily live a relatively lavish lifestyle off the interest from that trust.”
This was not wrong.
Of course, I could probably not afford to sell off all my belongings, redecorate the entirety of a massive five-bedroom show home, replace my entire wardrobe and buy whatever car I wanted.
But I could get Aisling the expensive blender she was eyeing at Bed Bath and Beyond for Christmas (if Mickey approved, that was).
“You’re not going to lose your trusts, MeeMee,” Lawrie reiterated.
“No, probably not,” I replied. “But I’m not going to phone them and give them the reaction they want to this. Either being angry or being apologetic or,” I threw out a hand, “whatever they want from me. If they push this, fine. They can have the money. They can disinherit me from the piles they’d have given me when they stop breathing. I don’t need that either. I just hope they don’t punish Auden and Olympia with this kind of nonsense. Now that would make me angry.”