Jonathon Masters, Esquire, Attorney at Law hung his shingle outside a modest brownstone in the more affluent section of Philadelphia. The lawyer had received a telegram several days ago indicating that Miss Kinsey Furlong, accompanied by her cousin, Mr. Scott Lancer, would be arriving in the city on the nineteenth. Noting the name of the hotel mentioned in the correspondence, Masters made certain his appointment card would be waiting at the front desk upon the cousins’ arrival. Checking his timepiece, the lawyer anticipated his next meeting and made certain all the documents laid out on his desk were in order.
Scott glanced down to confirm the street address printed on the lawyer’s appointment card and then shifted his gaze to the ornate sign indicating they had found the office of Jonathan Masters, Esquire. Checking his pocket watch, Scott was pleased to see they were on time.
“Ready to meet Mr. Masters?”
“No.”
“Lawyers don’t bite, Kinsey.”
“Perhaps.”
Entering the law office, Scott was greeted by a much older man than he had expected. Jonathon Masters sported a friendly smile and warm eyes that Scott hoped would ease Kinsey’s apprehension of being eaten alive. Handshakes and introductions led to the cousins seating themselves as the lawyer returned to his desk.
“I hope your trip was satisfactory.”
“Why are we here, Mr. Masters?”
Before Scott could encourage Kinsey to be a little less demanding, the lawyer began to laugh.
“Fletcher mentioned his granddaughter got right to the point. Of course, you want to know why you are here. So let’s get started, shall we?” Shuffling through his papers Masters continued. “Your grandfather and I were friends for over forty-five years, did you know that?”
“I didn’t know my grandfather had friends.”
Scott cleared his throat and shot Kinsey a stern look.
“Quit giving your cousin the evil eye Mr. Lancer. That was a perfectly legitimate statement. Fletcher Garrett could be a difficult man. I was his personal lawyer who handled all of his finances and business transactions so that made me his friend. Recently, I became the executor of his estate and now Kinsey, I am your friend. Mr. Lancer…Scott…are you aware Fletcher Garrett was a very good business man?”
“During our brief visit with Kinsey’s grandfather it appeared he was living comfortably.”
“He was. He had some debts but nothing outstanding. The persons that were in his employment were entitled to severance pay. And there is my fee, of course.”
Scott smiled, “Of course.”
“As executor I have taken the liberty to resolve these issues clearing the way to proceed with Fletcher’s wishes as stated in his will. Kinsey, your grandfather has left you all of his assets, properties and finances. They add up to rather substantial amount of money.”
Silence.
Scott, in shock himself, reached out and squeezed his cousin’s hand. “Kinsey, honey, you need to breathe.”
“Scott, this is a mistake. There’s been a mistake. This should be my mother sitting here, not me. This is wrong. Scott, I want to go.”
“Kinsey, I don’t think this is a mistake.”
“No mistake. It’s what your grandfather wanted from the very beginning. I apologize. You had no idea, did you?” The lawyer looked to Scott for answers.
“When Kinsey and I had the opportunity to visit with her grandfather, all of what you just mentioned never came up in our conversations.”
Masters smiled. He liked this young man who can say one thing but mean another. He would have made a fine lawyer.
“Kinsey, Fletcher Garrett’s will was revised the year your family left Philadelphia to live in Melbourne. He transferred his inheritance from your mother to you. Your mother was aware of his decision and made it quite clear she did not want his money. This last will and testament has remained untouched until two months ago when Fletcher entered my office and insisted on two revisions.”
Through wired rimmed spectacles, the lawyers glanced down at the documents on his desk. “Kinsey’s inheritance was to be placed in a trust fund where it would remain until she reached the age of twenty-one. The first revision changed the age from twenty-one to twenty-five. According to your grandfather you have quite a little temper, young lady. He felt giving you a few more years to acquire a more mature outlook on life would be in your best interest.”
Scott had to smile. The old man certainly nailed that one.
“Second revision involved the trustee of the trust fund. Scott, I was pleased to learn you would be accompanying Kinsey to Philadelphia. It certainly makes signing the paperwork as the designated trustee of Kinsey’s fund much easier. You made quite the impression on Fletcher, Mr. Lancer. He admired how you didn’t mince words and had a fine grasp on his granddaughter’s high-spirited personality.”
Scott took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Forgive us sir, this is a lot of information to digest.”
“It is and I, again, apologize. I was under the impression your grandfather told you.”
“My grandfather? You mean Kinsey’s.”
“No. Your grandfather, Scott. In fact, he’s on his way here from Boston. I believe he will be arriving later this afternoon. You didn’t know?”
It suddenly seemed warm and stuffy in the office of Jonathon Masters, Esquire, Attorney at Law.
“Mr. Masters, may I ask who was the trustee of Kinsey’s fund before Fletcher had it revised.”
“Why, of course. It was Harlan Garrett.”
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