Page 2 of Inheriting Miss Fortune

Orris met my eye with a lifted brow.

“Wyoming,” I said. “Apparently, he lives on a ranch there and is impossible to get a hold of. If I’d been able to find a number for him, I would have requested his presence today.”

One of my peers, an older attorney named Grace, who worked full-time on the Scotts’ business, leaned forward. “I believe it’s obvious from his lack of interest in these proceedings that he has chosen to relinquish his interest in this case.”

I stared at her. “Are you kidding? I just told you he hasn’t been informed about Katie’s—Kathryn’s—passing. He couldn’t possibly have relinquished his interest.”

Orris turned to her. “But youcango ahead and begin proceedings to challenge his guardianship.”

“I beg your pardon.” I moved my hands under the table in case they started shaking. While I would definitely defend my client vigorously, I really didn’t want to get fired in the process. “You maynotdo so. I understand the Scotts’ concerns, of course, butKathrynScott was also our client. She made her wishes very clear, and we executed them carefully in the preparation and signing of her Last Will and Testament. There is no legal standing to challenge Mr. McKay’s guardianship at this time. At the very least, it’s premature, and moreover, it is an obvious conflict of interest coming from this firm.”

Orris made a shushing gesture with his hand as the pastor began to interrupt. “Tully, I understand you’re upset. You and Kathryn were close.”

I nodded numbly. Even three days after her accident, I hadn’t really begun to process the fact that Katie was gone. Some part of me expected to see her striding into the conference room wearing her bright, mischievous smile, and I knew that when the day was done, my fingers would twitch against the urge to text her.Gurl, you would not believe the meeting I had today…

“No one is accusing you of not doing your due diligence in preparing her will,” Orris went on. “You’re a fine attorney who would have made sure the legal preparation was airtight. But surely you can see how Pastor and Mrs. Scott would be the best guardians for their grandchild now that Kathryn is no longer with us.”

I tilted my head at him, incredulous. “Surely I do not, sir. Are you suggesting a mother should not be able to choose who gets custody of her child upon her death? What is the point of preparing a will if that’s the case?”

Mrs. Scott began wailing again.

Orris spoke to me as if trying to gentle an unpredictable stallion. “Mr. McKay might be a fine man, but the child is clearly better off being raised by two loving grandparents who’ve known her since she was born, and the Scotts have plenty of money to make sure Eleanor has everything she could ever need for her comfort and education.”

It galled me to hear Lellie referred to as “the child,” as though she were “the vase” or “the chair.” It also irked me that I was expected to use her legal name, as if I hadn’t rocked Lellie for hours when she was only a few weeks old and hadn’t pulled a sticky glob of banana out of her ink-black curls only a month ago.

“Lellie is independently wealthy,” I stated, moving on to the next portion of Katie’s will. “As the sole heir of Kathryn’s estate, she inherits even more. Whoever ends up raising her will have plenty of financial support.”

I didn’t add that the estate was worth at least ten million dollars because it wasn’t her parents’ business, but they needed to understand that basing their custody case on being the more financially stable option for Lellie was a losing proposition.

Katie’s parents gasped. The surrounding attorneys typed and scribbled notes. Orris pressed his lips together.

Pastor Scott turned to Orris. “Remove Kathryn from my will and see about recouping her trust fund.”

I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him that trust funds didn’t work that way. Katie had gotten access to hers several years ago when she’d turned twenty-five. Because of her lukewarm and sometimes strained relationship with her parents, we’d immediately moved all assets into a new one. When Lellie had been born, we’d restructured the trusts again.

Mrs. Scott sniffled. “It will have to go to Eleanor now.”

The pastor shook his head. “She will not be listed as my heir. Not as long as that… thatranch hand… has custody of her.”

His wife looked at him in shock. “She’s all we have left of Kathryn. I won’t lose her, Frank.”

Orris, ever the peacemaker when tempers flared and clients became irrational, tried to calm everyone down. “There may be a middle ground here. What if we offer McKay a visitation scheme? If he’s currently a rancher in Wyoming, she could be in line to inherit a spread in Wyoming.” He turned to me and lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Devon McKay doesn’t own the ranch,” I admitted. “It’s my understanding he just works there.” Not that there was any indication of formal employment like a W-2 or payroll records. Which meant he was most likely getting paid under the table.

Orris’s white eyebrows came together. “A Yale graduate works at a ranch he doesn’t own? What in the world does he do there?”

Pastor Scott threw up his hands. “See? He never did make good, even with a Yale scholarship. Do we even know if he graduated? There’s no way on god’s green earth that low-life is getting my money. Or my granddaughter,” he added.

I thought back to the man I’d met at Katie’s house. To Dev’s inky-black curls and the striking hazel eyes that seemed to carry a lifetime’s worth of pain in them. He’d skimmed his hands along my skin as if worshipping it with tenderness. Not only had he been quiet and kind, but he’d also been generous. By giving Katie the ability to have a child with no strings attached, he’d shown himself to be selfless and thoughtful. I hadn’t realized he was the “old friend” Katie had asked to father her child until long after our hookup, but once I had, I’d understood that he hadn’t let himself come that night because he’d been due at the fertility clinic to make his contribution the following day. Dev had literally denied himself pleasure in order to do well by his friend.

Low-life? Hardly.

I may not have known Devon McKay well, but I believed he was a decent person, and Katie had certainly thought so.

Grace leaned forward, drawing attention away from the blustering pastor. “Do we know whether he even wants custody of the child?”

Everyone got quiet. Pastor Scott lost a little of his bluster. Orris looked thoughtful before he spoke. “Grace, draw up papers for him to voluntarily relinquish custody to the Scotts. There’s no conflict of interest in that,” he added, in light of my earlier objection. “And we have several options in case he fights it.”

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