Page 40 of Gifted & Talented

“Hello, dear,” said the older lawyer to Eilidh kindly, which was when Eilidh realized it was her godfather, John. (Eilidh had come along in her parents’ lives after they had already divvied up the godparent honors to the important people, so the man who had been Thayer’s roommate for five years in the eighties and was now—or maybe was not—his estate attorney had been appointed Eilidh’s godfather after Meredith and Arthur had been given three each.)

“Well, I assure you, I spoke to Thayer just last month about his will,” said Ryan, the initial lawyer who was Meredith’s sworn enemy for the time being. “Mine is the most up-to-date.”

“Young man,” said the now-squinting older lawyer who had sent Eilidh a nice card and a check every year on her birthday for as long as she could remember, “unless Thayer was half out of his wits when he hired you, you cannot possibly have the legal will and testament. Thayer Wren was religious with his estate planning, once a year on his birthday.”

“Well, his birthday was two months ago,” said Ryan, “so I win.”

“I’m challenging this,” said Meredith, before turning to Gillian. “I can challenge this, can’t I? On the basis of my father not being stupid enough to hire any idiot off the street to represent his entire life and legacy?”

“Mm,” said Gillian, who seemed suddenly very interested in her tongue.

“Meredith, didn’t you drop out of Harvard?” posed Ryan conversationally.

“They parted ways mutually,” said Arthur. By then, Philippa had swanned back out of the room, claiming something about the alignment of her chakras. “And anyway, she’s right, whichever will John has in his possession is definitely the legal one.”

“You do understand the nature of linear time, yes?” said Ryan.

“Yourwill—if it even exists,” said Meredith, to which Ryan began to argue but which Meredith efficiently and loudly shut down, “could have been made under duress. Under false pretenses. He could have been blind drunk for all we know!”

“That’s true,” said Gillian thinly, as if from a very great distance. She seemed to be trying to remind herself of something at the moment, or possibly the statement was meant to be a personal reassurance.

Thankfully, before Ryan and Meredith could get into any further arguments about whatever Meredith might still be angry about—ohyes,recalled Eilidh, suddenly blinking with delayed cognizance, this wasRyan Behrend,the one who’d beaten Meredith at the science fair with a project he’d stolen from his older sister, something that had provoked Meredith into such an unexpected fit she’d destroyed nearly a thousand dollars in school property and been sent away to boarding school—ohgod,thought Eilidh, how had she forgottenthat?—the older lawyer stepped in to mediate the conflict.

“We don’t want to disturb the family at this stressful time,” he said pointedly to Ryan, gesturing into the other room. “Why don’t we compare documents and discuss between the lawyers before subjecting the family members to any further distress?”

His words were extremely reasonable and gentle, Eilidh thought, but he had the browbeating tone of someone who expected to be paid exorbitantly and did not intend for any other outcome.

Just then, Eilidh’s phone buzzed with a message. It was Dzhuliya, Eilidh noted with a brief lurch of surprise, notable for some added tingle of excitement. What, she thought, might Dzhuliya have to say to her this morning? They never spoke about work aside from Eilidh’s crossover with Thayer’s schedule, so really, possibility ran the gamut. Every other week or so there was a meme, or maybe a brief exchange of articles one or the other might like, usually the latest in reality TV recaps or group chat material about celebrities.

Then again, the latest in celebrity news was the passing of Thayer Wren, so never mind.

Is the lawyer there yet?

Just checking!Dzhuliya added in a hasty second bubble.Wanted to make sure everything is going smoothly. Trying to take care of as much as I can on my end!

Ah yes, Eilidh recalled, this was just Dzhuliya doing her job, or whatever was left of it. (How badwerethings for the employees of Wrenfare? Eilidh often wondered about the Real World like a fairy-tale princess, never really conceiving of the possibility that she could ask.)

Which one?asked Eilidh in a joking tone that she realized only belatedly would not come across in a text message.

Immediately, as if Dzhuliya had been waiting for her response, a message bubble began typing in response, replies that came in quick, sharp succession.

What do you mean?

Ryan’s reached out to you, hasn’t he?

He should be going over the will with you today.

Eilidh felt a cool sensation wash over her, something she felt certain was dread. She couldn’t say why, but if she’d learned anything about the things her body did to her recently, it was that ignoring them didn’t help.

The will.

The will of her dead father.

The last thing her father would ever say to her.

Panic rose up, a mushroom cloud of atomic proportions. The thing in her chest buzzed like a hornet’s nest, festering, swirling, cycloning in. She felt the presence of the swarm and knew her only hope was to dissipate it, give it the space to discreetly thin.

Eilidh needed to talk about this—she desperately needed to talk. Could she discuss any of this with Arthur, though? With Meredith? Absolutely not. They’d already made it plenty clear they would not be doing anything of the sort.

---