“Of course not,” Adam replied blandly. “So let’s move on to my mother’s second line of attack-‘Carla made him do it.’ What would she have to prove in court?”
Thomson sat on an old log that doubled as a bench, making room for Adam to join him. “As far as Ben’s acuity goes, the standard for proving ‘undue influence’ is less daunting-Clarice need only show that his intellect was weakened at the time he signed the will. That shifts the burden to Carla to prove by ‘clear and convincing evidence’ that she didn’t control Ben’s actions.”
“That does sound easier.”
“In the abstract, sure. But ‘undue influence’ usually involves an old person who feels powerless without a caregiver. Carla may have cooked Ben’s favorite dinners, but he was still living with your mother. And whatever Clarice says about him now, he was still moving around in the world without the help of either woman.” Thomson’s speech became sardonic. “Off the cuff, I’d say this was a case of ‘due influence.’ It’s perfectly rational for a man Ben’s age to change his will so he can keep on fucking a woman who looks like Carla Pacelli. It’s just not nice. If that were grounds for insanity, our asylums would be as jammed as our prisons.”
Adam gave a perfunctory laugh. “Still, the man had brain cancer. Mom has to take that as far as it can go.”
Thomson’s voice became somber. “As desperate as she must be, I’d try anything. But there are two other areas in which Carla may have real problems.
“The first is that Seeley created trusts in favor of Carla and Jenny Leigh. No doubt his purpose was to take the money Ben gave them out of the estate, and therefore beyond Clarice’s legal reach-”
“Why bother, when the will already cuts my mother out?”
“My best guess? Ben remembered me saying that the postnup might not hold up. If Clarice can break it, under Massachusetts law she’s entitled to one-third of Ben’s estate-no matter what his will says. That’s not enough for her to keep the house, but it’s far better than where she is now. Frankly, this ugly ploy with the trusts bespeaks Ben’s ruthless determination to leave Clarice with nothing.” Thomson paused, adding slowly, “What did she ever do, I wonder, to make him hate her that much?”
Adam felt a suffocating wave of anger. “Nothing,” he said curtly.
“Whatever the reason, Ben found just the lawyer to help him. Assuming he’s capable of legal research, Seeley must have relied on an old case called Sullivan v. Burkin. That decision cited what was then settled legal precedent: that a husband in this state had an absolute right to dispose of his property as he saw fit-including creating a trust that cuts off the wife’s legal interest in its assets. But our highest court found this rule so unfair that it implored our legislature to change the law.
“Given that half our legislators are crooks or cretins, they did nothing. But the opinion suggests that our courts may not uphold this trick in the future. If they don’t, and if Clarice can invalidate the postnuptial agreement, she’d be entitled to one-third of what Ben gave Carla and Jenny.”
“So we’re back to the postnup.”
“As always. But there’s one more factor that may benefit Clarice. The last will I drew up deferred estate taxes until she died. If she succeeds in bringing the trust assets back into the estate, Carla and Jenny will have to pay taxes on every dime they get. That means the estate will lose almost four million dollars, potentially leaving Clarice with one-third of the eight million dollars remaining. Assuming, again, that she can bust the postnup.” Thomson smiled a little. “If Carla’s the schemer you believe her to be, she won’t like that result one bit.”
Adam thought swiftly. “What if Mom can force a settlement with Pacelli?”
“Then she’ll get the full amount of the settlement without paying any estate tax. The question becomes what she’d have to give Carla in return.”
“And if she can prove my father lacked the mental capacity to execute this will?”
“That would invalidate the will in its entirety-including its revocation of the prior will. Clarice gets everything; Carla, Jenny-and you-nothing. So Carla, and perhaps Jenny, will fight Clarice like tigers.” Thomson shook his head. “I’d hate to think it, but perhaps Ben in his perversity hoped for that.”
A cooling breeze touched Adam’s face. “More than perhaps. It would have pleased him to imagine women fighting over his remains.” His tone became crisp. “So how does Mom keep the money away from Carla until the court decides the will contest?”
“She needs to race to the courthouse claiming that the trust assets are part of Ben’s estate. Once she files, the probate judge will bar Carla from taking the money and haul Ted Seeley, as Ben’s cotrustee, before the court.” He gave Adam a sideways glance. “What you need to do, as executor, is notify your mother that you’re submitting the will for probate. If she’s prepared, she’ll be in court a nanosecond later. No doubt Carla knows that.”
“No doubt.”
Thomson’s eyes became curious. “I gather you’ve met her. And so?”
Adam sorted out his impressions, trying to separate his emotions from the woman he had encountered. “Pacelli’s not quite what I expected. She’s cooler, smarter, and very self-contained. And beautiful, I’ll grant you, but in a different way-tempered and subdued. With her gifts as an actress, she’ll make a better impression than she deserves.”
Thomson nodded, eyes narrowing as he looked out at the water. “Whatever the reason, she made a considerable impression on Ben. That much I know.”
His tone caught Adam’s curiosity. “How, exactly?”
“The last time I saw him was a few weeks before he died. We were fishing off Lambert’s Cove on a chilly spring night. I didn’t know that he was dying-no one did, perhaps not even Ben. But he tired easily, which worried me some. To keep him company, I sat with him on the beach, sipping whisky from a flask to keep the dew off.
“It was quite dark, just the two of us in the silver light of a quarter moon. Ben got very quiet. He felt different to me, like life was weighing on him-I realize now that he’d already changed the will. Because we were old friends, and because I felt a debt to your mother, I brought up this actress.” Thomson grimaced. “There’d been talk, I mentioned, enough to embarrass Clarice deeply. I asked if Ben weren’t a little old for such foolishness, and whether he should place more value on the woman who’d stood by him all these years.”
Adam was touched. “A good question, and an act of grace. How did he respond?”
“Strangely, I thought. He just smiled, in a way I found smug yet oddly melancholy. All he said was ‘Carla has promised to make me immortal.’”
“Do you know what he meant?”
“No. It was a curious remark, I thought. Even Ben knew that no one gets out of life alive.”
“A sane man would know that,” Adam amended.
“True. Anyhow, too late to ask him now. He’s dead, and you’re his executor.” Facing Adam, Thomson spoke slowly and firmly, “I don’t know your intentions, and don’t want to. But you know the rules for remaining as executor. You should at least appear to follow them. That means that you’ll graciously accept Ben’s generous bequest to you, and take no overt steps to undermine the will. Or Ms. Pacelli and Mr. Seeley will have you pilloried by the court. Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“Let your mother’s lawyer, Gerri Sweder, do the heavy lifting. Gerri’s no one’s fool. The first question she’ll ask Clarice is the one I always wanted to ask-why such a clever woman signed this disastrous postnup. On that fateful day, and ever since, I’ve wished that I could read your mother’s mind. But she’s the last of the old-line WASPs, and she holds on tight.” Thomson gave Adam a long, quiet look, and then finished evenly, “With your father’s demise, she’s the only one who knows her reasons. There’s nothing to stop Clarice from choosing her answer with care.”