Page 11 of The Fadeaway

“Let’s dive right in,” Alan says, waving at two mid-century designed chairs for Ruby and Helen. He sits behind his desk and slides on a pair of reading glasses as he taps at his keyboard. “First of all,” he says to Ruby, looking back at her and taking his reading glasses off again as he makes eye contact with her. “Let me say how deeply I adored your mother. Patty Dallarosa was aforce to be reckoned with, and I miss her laugh, her friendship, and her legal banter.”

“You knew my mother professionally?” Ruby frowns. “She wasn’t just a client?”

Alan’s laugh booms throughout the office and he leans back in his chair, pushing his shirtsleeves up further. “Oh, lord no. Patty and I go way back. We worked together on a huge trial in Los Angeles County in about…1995, I guess it was. She was several years into her career by then and man, was she a sight to behold.”

Ruby smiles at this, loving the look of admiration on Alan Berkshire’s face as he remembers Patty in the prime of her career.

“Dressed to kill, always,” Alan says, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepling his hands before him. “She’d walk into a courtroom in head-to-toe Chanel with her hair and makeup done in whatever style was current. I’m not kidding you, Ruby,” he says imploringly, as if she might not believe his words, “your mother could have been a runway model, even in her forties. Or a movie star.”

“That’s true.” Ruby beams, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She’d always been unfailingly proud of her beautiful mother. “My mother never left the house without being fully dressed and made up. In fact,” Ruby says, glancing out the window at the satiny sky, “she never started her day until she was dressed. That was one of her things: get ready enough so that no matter who knocks on your door, you’re ready.”

Alan is shaking his head. “She looked like a perfectly turned out starlet at all times, but her mind and her tongue were like cut glass and velvet, respectively.”

“That’s a perfect way to describe her,” Ruby agrees. “She was never at a loss for words—some of them quite sharp—but shealways knew the perfect way to sand them down and deliver them so that you weren’t even sure you’d been cut.”

“I watched her do it over and over in court,” Alan says, following Ruby’s gaze out the window.

"My mother was a one of a kind." Ruby puts a hand to her cheek. Tears are never far when she's thinking about Patty, but she'd rather keep herself in check here at the lawyer's office and not crumble into a pile of tears and memories. "I will miss her forever."

They take a brief pause, and then Alan puts his reading glasses back on and sits up straight. "On that note, I say we get down to it."

Ruby gives a firm nod and Helen pats her hand and then stands, holding her iced coffee. "If you'll excuse me for a moment," she says, nodding at the door. "I'll just ask the nice young lady up front--your daughter, I presume?--to show me to the restroom."

Alan smirks at Helen. "Third wife," he says with a guilty and slightly apologetic shrug. "She tells me that I need to keep things relaxed around here if I'm going to attract a younger, hipper clientele."

Helen stands there, looking down at Alan Berkshire disbelievingly. "It's your business, Mr. Berkshire, but as an estate lawyer, I’m not sure that ‘younger and hipper’ is really your target audience.” With that, Helen shows herself out of the office and closes the door gently behind her.

"She's got a point," Alan says, looking at Ruby over the top of his glasses. "She definitely has a point."

"Well, we've all gotten sidetracked by love a time or two, haven't we?" Ruby says kindly. "Anyhow, you were saying?"

Alan frowns at the computer screen before looking at Ruby again. "Well, your mother's net worth is fairly substantial," he says. "She invested well, and once you talk to her accountantI'm sure you'll get more up-to-date figures, but as of our last discussion, she had something like forty-six million in stocks, savings, and real estate holdings. Her will has some provisions that we'll need to adhere to, but as her next of kin, Ruby, you stand to inherit the bulk of that money."

Ruby blinks. She sucks in a breath and holds it. Blinks again. Releases the breath in one loud puff. "Forty-sixmillion? But...how? I..." She is at a loss for words at this point, and instead of saying more, Ruby clamps her mouth shut and waits.

"I think once you speak to her accountant and see the actual stock portfolios it might make more sense, but essentially, Patty took your father's life insurance policy and paid off her house. She then went back to work and put the lion's share of her salary into the stock market. That might have felt like a risky move for a relatively young widow, but Patty was playing the long game, and she was on the receiving end of some solid advice, as far as I can tell."

Ruby folds her hands, unfolds them. She's still trying to grasp how her mother might have turned her life into an estate worth forty-six million dollars. "What kind of advice do you think she got?"

Alan Berkshire shrugs. "Someone told her to invest in Apple in the eighties, and she did. Beyond that, I couldn't tell you the specifics, but she did well. As far as real estate, she owns the house here in Santa Barbara, as you know, and one in Seattle. She also owns an apartment in New York City, and--"

"Wait." Ruby slides forward on her chair, holding up a hand. "New York City? My mother?" Ruby shakes her head adamantly. "That must be a mistake. My mom doesn't own any property on the east coast."

Alan pulls a face that saysI'm not quite done yet, and Ruby sits back in her chair, still shaking her head.

"She also owns a bungalow on Jekyll Island in Georgia."

"No," Ruby says, and it's not a protest, but a proclamation. "My mother would have told me if she owned more property."

Alan stands and places his reading glasses on the desk. He walks around it, sits in the chair formerly occupied by Helen, and looks at Ruby searchingly. "I find--in life, and in my business--that there are many, many things we don't know about our loved ones, Ruby. Both good and bad things. Fortunately, I think you'll find that most of what you don't know about Patty isgoodstuff, but I want you to know that thereisstuff."

"But..." Ruby trails off, still processing the apartment in Manhattan and the so-called bungalow in Georgia. "My mom and I shared pretty much everything. There was no reason for hernotto tell me these things. No reason at all."

"None?" Alan raises his eyebrows and waits for Ruby to come to her own conclusions.

Ruby racks her brain, thinking of what might have compelled her mother to keep secrets from her. Of course, it's natural for a daughter not to tell her mom everything, but as Patty had gotten older she pretty much just gardened and walked on the beach and met friends for happy hour for the last couple of decades of her life. What part of that needed to be some big secret? But what about the forty-six million dollars? How and why would her mother have accumulated that kind of money and kept it tucked away and hidden? None of it made any sense.

Ruby sighs; she's suddenly exhausted. "I guess I got kind of busy with my own life," she says, waving a hand through the air listlessly. "I was raising kids and then I was in the White House, and--"

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