Paul Robertson: The Heir

“I will arrange for you to be offered your father’s positions on nonprofit boards, particularly the opera. Those boards have a great deal of influence.”

He was talking fast, to get it all in before I had a chance to stop him. “Your father also had a large minority share of First Media, which owns the newspaper and Channel Six. Stanley Morton is the chief executive and he will be very anxious to meet you.”

“I know him. I dated his daughter at Yale.”

Katie squeezed my hand. What was she thinking? That it was a done deal? We were talking specifics, the course of action. Katie could relate to this. Or maybe she just wanted me to remember that she’d won her own war against Natalie Morton.

Fred was still listing names, but I held up my hand. “That’s enough. I understand. I’ll think about it for a while.”

“Of course, of course.” It was jarring, how he suddenly turned back into Uncle Fred.

“I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

“I know it’s difficult. I know it’s not what you had expected. I am sorry, Jason. I truly am. But we do not always control our own destiny.”

And I’d always hated the one who controlled mine. “I was never close to him,” I said. “But I thought he knew me better.”

“I think he knew you quite well. Better than you know yourself.”

I’ve never really wanted to. My question has always been Why? not Who?

“It’ll be tough,” Eric said. “But you can do it, Jason. You can, really.”

Big brother can do anything. “So what’s in it for you?”

He beamed. “Everything I’d ever want. Right?”

“And what if I refuse it all?”

Eric laughed. “I’d kill you.” He looked at Fred. “Would I get the money then?”

“I would,” Katie said.

I didn’t want Eric riding his motorcycle on this planet while his mind was on another one, so we stuffed him into our car and got home for lunch. I’d told Fred I’d think about it, so I did. I was over the emotional reaction, just down to annoyance and bewilderment and being tired of it all.

Fifty million. I knew at least enough about Melvin’s business to know that Eric was wrong about that. My guess was five or six times as much, maybe. It didn’t make any difference, except the more it was, the less I wanted it.

I was curious-that was all. But ask any cat about curiosity.

With what we had now, we still managed to pay the mortgage each month. As we pulled up to the house of that mortgage, I wondered what Katie would do with real money. Our little French Provincial cottage with six bedrooms, two formal and three casual living rooms, a dining room that could seat twenty-plus the few informal areas that I actually liked-all on two acres, would only be practice.

We chose the sunny dining nook overlooking the gardens for our lunch. Rosita did a great job.

Eric revived fine, or even too much, until he was excited and babbling, overpowered by too many massive issues in too short a time. I finally kicked him out of the room so Katie could get a few words in.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Stop being foolish.” She’d been worn raw by the tension of the morning and by the funeral yesterday, and now by her own hopes.

“Stop acting this way.”

“I’m not being foolish. I don’t want the money.”

“I do.”

“Then you’re being foolish,” I said.

“It’s right there, right in your hand. Just think!”

“I am!” I said. “Don’t you understand?”

“I do understand. You’re so twisted by how you hated him that you can’t see anything else.”

“I didn’t hate him.” We both knew I hated him.

“Then what do you call it?”

Why were we talking about him? “It’s not hate,” I said. It was being overshadowed by a mountain.

Katie backed down. “I’m sorry. It’s too much to deal with.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“It’s just that I want it,” she said. It was almost a sigh. “I want the life we’d have together.”

“We wouldn’t be together. I wouldn’t be here. Angela didn’t have Melvin, just his houses and money.”

“We’d make time for each other. It just wouldn’t be as much.”

“And it wouldn’t be me, anyway. I’d be some other person.” Maybe she wouldn’t mind that too much.

“You’ll always wonder what it would have been like,” she said.

It was true. How did she know that? I hadn’t realized it yet.

What a marksman she was to find that chink. “I think I know.”

“You haven’t had time to think.”

“I told Fred I’d think, so I’ll think.”

“What will you say to everyone?”

“Just that it’ll take a couple days. It’s a lot to deal with.”

And that was enough to revive her hope. She hugged me, and I knew we were still in it together.

I found Eric in my office, playing a Grand Prix game on the Ferrari Web site. I’d have to remember to lock the door when he was in the house.

“Have you already ordered a new car,” I said, “or are you going to at least take a day to pick a color?”

“Red, of course.”

“What number are we up to?”

“About eighty,” he said.

“Rule number 80. Don’t buy anything for one month after your father dies.”

He grinned. “I was just looking.”

Katie and I had one full-time employee, our cook and maid, Rosita. Eric had one part-time employee, his mechanic. That person was part time and Rosita was full time because Eric did a lot more of his own repairs than Katie cooked or cleaned. We also had a landscaping company to keep our grounds nice, and he has maid service, but the real priorities were clear-cars for him, food for us.

“Fred was right. Now that you’ve got money, you need to act like you’ve got a brain.”

“I know.” He closed the game. “But we’ve got millions now.”

“Pretend like you don’t.”

“But we do.” He stared at me. “Would you really turn it down?”

“I really would.”

He looked straight at me. “I have never figured you out, Jason.”

“You won’t, either.” Eric knew me better than anyone in the world, even than Katie, but it did him no good because he had no brain. Acting like he had one would be hard work.

“I’d like to. You’re all I’ve got.”

That’s why I had always felt so sorry for him. “Then grow up.

You won’t understand an adult until you are one.”

“Give me one clue, at least.”

“Money is not everything.”

“What else is there?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m hoping there’s something.”

“You always make it so hard.” He leaned back in my chair. “I figured it out a long time ago. Just maximize pleasure and minimize pain.”

“It’s the minimize pain part. Melvin’s cash comes with a high pain factor.”

“I still don’t see it.”

“Maybe you will. Now get out of here. I need to make some calls.”

He closed the door behind him, and I was alone. I don’t like other people in my office. It’s the only room in the house that Katie didn’t furnish, and she could have done a better job than I did, but then it wouldn’t have been what it was for me. It’s mostly bookshelves filled with books I’ve read and walls filled with pictures I like looking at. They’re prints of old sailing boats and the men on them fighting the weather and sea. I soaked in their struggles for a moment and then picked up my phone.

I only had one call to make, to Pamela, the late Melvin’s never-late secretary.

“Jason, sweetie, how nice to hear your voice. I didn’t get to talk to you yesterday morning. How are you doing?”

“Sort of struggling,” I said. “I could use your help.”