Uncle Howard just looked at him strangely.
But another voice piped up with an opinion. “If you ask me,” Douglas said, sitting up from the sofa where he had been stretched out, hidden from view, “you look better than I’ve seen you in a long time.” He hopped to his feet. “Welcome, dear cousins!”
Chelsea stiffened. Douglas was barefoot, wearing ratty jeans, and it looked as if he hadn’t washed his hair this morning. He was disgraceful.
“Hello, Douglas,” she said. “Glad you’re here. How nice that we’ll have a chance to spend a little more time with you than usual.”
She knew her voice sounded phony, and she knew that Douglas knew she was being totally insincere. But she hoped Uncle Howard didn’t pick up on it.
Ryan hadn’t even bothered to say hello. He just excused himself so he could go wash up and change his clothes. Chelsea hoped he would come back downstairs more like his old self so that they could put Douglas in his place.
“So what are you doing now, Douglas?” Chelsea asked cheerily. “You’ve always had such an interesting, if brief, series of jobs.”
“True,” he said. “One of the few I haven’t tried is Slacker Child Living Off Wealthy Daddy.”
“Now, now, Douglas,” Uncle Howard said, his voice raspy.
“It’s okay, dear uncle,” Chelsea said. “Douglas and I just enjoy teasing each other, don’t we, Douglas?”
“We adore it,” he said, and Chelsea caught the little look he exchanged with that woman, Carolyn. What was their relationship?
“Well,” Chelsea announced, “I think I’ll go wash up as well, and then we can have a wonderful talk and catch up, dear uncle.”
“I look forward to that, Chelsea,” the old man said. He hesitated, as if trying to think of exactly how he should phrase something. “I’m glad you’re here early, because we need to talk. You and I and your brother.”
Chelsea’s ears perked up at this. “Really? Well, of course, Uncle Howard.”
It had to be about the will. What else would he want to discuss with them?
“But perhaps I should wait until your father is here as well,” Uncle Howard said. “He should be here for that.”
It has to be the will, Chelsea thought. Why else would he want Daddy here, too?
“I’ll call him and have him come up early as well,” she assured her uncle.
“That would be good,” he said.
She bent down and gave him another kiss on his cheek. His dry, flaky skin always grossed her out, but she forced herself. Chelsea smiled over at Douglas as she prepared to exit the room.
Her cousin ignored her. “So, Uncle Howie,” he said, sitting down on the armrest of the old man’s chair, “how about if we have a conversation, too?”
“All right,” Uncle Howard agreed.
Chelsea almost spit. How dare Douglas? Trying to worm his way in before Uncle Howard had a chance to talk to her and Ryan?
She was aware that Carolyn had positioned herself close to the old man’s chair as well. What business did she have listening in?
Unless she was the lawyer drawing up the will…
“Oh, Chelsea,” Douglas called sweetly as she left the study and headed into the hall, “will you be so kind as to shut the doors behind you?”
She seethed, but did as he asked. It wouldn’t be good to upset Uncle Howard now.
She stood there in the hallway staring at the closed double doors of the study. What did her uncle want to speak to her and Ryan about? Either to tell us we’re in the will…or we’re out. She gulped. What were they talking about inside the room at that very moment? Was Douglas brainwashing Uncle Howard against them? That woman…there was clearly a connection with Douglas. She was his girlfriend. That must be it! The little sneak had gotten his girlfriend to act as the old man’s lawyer!
Chelsea wished she could hear what was taking place inside, but the doors were too thick. But then she remembered something.
Upstairs, the room she always stayed in was directly above the study. One night, sitting on the floor leaning against the bed reading a copy of Cosmo she’d stolen from her cousin Paula, she made an exciting discovery. There was a grate on the floor of a heating vent that led down to the study. If you pressed your ear to the grate, you could eavesdrop on the adults below. Chelsea often lay there on the floor listening to the adults in the study below her discussing things she had no clue about. They always seemed to be talking about the lottery. Why, Chelsea didn’t know. Her family never played the lottery. They were far too rich for that.
The recollection of that heating vent brought a smile to Chelsea’s face. There was no time to waste. She bolted from the spot, taking the stairs two at a time. Flying down the upstairs corridor to her room, she closed down the door behind her and nearly threw herself onto the floor. She pressed her ear up against the grate.
Her smile widened.
She could hear them, plain as day.
“It’s just that you haven’t been very available since we came back from seeing Jeanette,” Douglas was saying.
Jeanette? Why did they go see that crazy old lady? Chelsea frowned. She assumed the old man was obliged to leave poor Jeanette something in the will, some kind of perpetual care. Maybe a trust. She assumed Carolyn, as the lawyer, was setting that up.
“I’m sorry,” Uncle Howard replied. “I know I’ve been keeping to my room of late. But you see, all of this, as I’m sure you understand, is very upsetting for me.”
“Mr. Young,” Carolyn said. “You hired me to try to find a way to put an end to ‘all of this,’ as you describe it. And I can’t do that without your full cooperation.”
All of this? What were they talking about?
“I can only tell you so much,” Uncle Howard said. “I expect that whatever else you need to know, you will find out.”
“Mr. Young,” Carolyn retorted, her voice growing sharp, “we only have a couple of weeks!”
A couple of weeks. Chelsea knew what she was referencing. The family reunion was in two weeks. Less than that, in fact. And apparently Uncle Howard expected to have the will ready by then. He’s probably going to announce who’s getting what, Chelsea thought. But what information was he withholding from Carolyn?
“There are some things we need to ask you about, now that we’ve seen Jeanette,” Douglas said.
“What kind of things?” Uncle Howard asked.
There was the sound of paper rustling. Was Carolyn passing out drafts of the will?
“I’ve gone through the various reports filed by those who have worked for you previously,” Carolyn said. Previous lawyers? Were they looking at old wills? Documents that maybe included Chelsea and her family, which Douglas was now aiming to invalidate? “And I can find none by a certain Dr. Fifer.”
“Fifer?” Uncle Howard asked. “Why are you interested in him?”
“Because Jeanette’s companion, Michael O’Toole, mentioned he’d visited Jeanette some time ago.”
“Indeed, he did,” Uncle Howard said. “It was probably 1978 or 1979.”
“Why didn’t he fill out a final report like the rest of them did?”
“I don’t know.”
More papers were being shuffled. “It’s just curious. I’d like to speak with him. Do you still have a contact number?”
“He’s dead.”
Carolyn sighed.
“It was a long time ago,” Uncle Howard said. “Why are you so interested in Fifer? He came no closer than any of the others to ending this terrible thing.”
Terrible thing? Chelsea thought. What are they talking about?
“He seems to have come across a name that none of the others did,” Carolyn said. “A name I can find nowhere in any of these files. A name that upset Jeanette.”
“What name is that?”
“Malcolm.”
There was a pause. Chelsea waited, but the seconds ticked by with no response. In her mind’s eye, she saw Uncle Howard hesitating. She saw him…uncomfortable. She had the sense that the name upset him.