Richard I sit in the conference room, wading through brochures, catalogues and websites, trying to find somethingâ¦.
â¦. suitableâ¦.
â¦. and just the tiniest bit originalâ¦.
And something she doesnât already haveâ¦.
*sigh*
Thereâs movement in my office beyond.
Elizabeth?
Sheâs earlyâ¦.
Quickly, I whisk a plan of the City Project site over my work area, but when I look up, itâs not Elizabeth but Michael standing in the doorway.
âHi, Richard⦠Hope you donât mind. Francis let me in. Thought Iâd spend half an hour on some more of that lot while I was twiddling my thumbs.â He gestures towards the stack of tattered and dusty boxes housing forty years of junk paperwork from Elizabethâs recently deceased Uncle Albert.
âNot at all. Itâs very good of you to keep at this on Elizabethâs behalf.â
âItâs no problem at all. Iâm waiting for James and Charlotte so itâs not as if I have anything better to do âtil they turn up. And as I mentioned, Iâm actually finding it quite interestingâ¦.â
Each to their ownâ¦.
He picks up a box, already half-empty, so I assume heâs been working on it before, and flicks out a sheet, examines it briefly then tosses it in another box being used for waste.
I return to my own thankless task, flicking through web pages looking at more and more useless crap.
Useless expensive crapâ¦.
Not that I can't afford it, but Elizabeth already has everything.
What else can I give her?
A lot of what I see is simply bling, usually with a designer name attached, so folks with pretensions and more money than sense buy it.
Sighing, I try a change of tack.
A theatre performance perhapsâ¦. A movie? The Opera?
She hates Opera Ballet perhaps?
Michaelâs head pops up. âSomething wrong?â
âItâs Elizabethâs birthday in a couple of weeks.â
He chuckles. âYes, I can see that would give you a problem. Settled on anything?â
âNo. It's all the same-old-same-old. She has a wardrobe full of clothes and more in boxes in the attics plus all the bags and shoes and jewellery that might go with them. She has two cars....â
âSomething for the cars then? Accessories for those?â
âThe fact is, she never drives. It's always Ross or me. Her cars sit in the garage. About the only time they move is when Ross brings them out to turn the engine over and give them a polish.â
âBooks maybe? That always a hit with Charlotte.â
âShe's not very bookish. The odd light novel, but she's not um....â
I don't like to talk down my own wife but.â¦
â.... academically inclined as Charlotte is.â
âI can see you do have a problem.â
âIf you have any ideas, let me know.â
He touches his forehead in a mock salute. âWill do.â
I eye the stack of mouldering papers on the tabletop in front of him without pleasure. âYouâre working through a lot of junk there.â
âYesâ¦.â He drops a handful of what looks like receipts, faded into illegibility, into the waste boxâ¦. âBut I keep finding the odd pearl.â
âReally? Such as?â
âOh, nothing major, just clues to a life gone by.â
âYou mentioned youâd found he was a bankruptâ¦.â
âYes.â He points. âThe documents are over there on that stack.â
I pick up a manila file, crisp with age, flicking disinterestedly at the contents. âDid you find out who his creditors were?â
âUm... Itâs there somewhere.â¦â He stands, glances at the file in my hand then rummages through the stack it came from. âThere were a few, but the main one was some company called umâ¦. VLD Entertainmentâ¦.â He passes me the sheet. âMean anything to you?â
I suck at my teeth. âYes, VLD was a holding company for a string of casinos and gambling dens in the area. They went out of business years agoâ¦. Or perhaps they were bought outâ¦. I canât really remember. Itâs got to be thirty years back.â
Michael sniffs, reflectively I think, âCasinos ehâ¦. If he had a gambling problem, that would explain a lot.â
âIt would indeed.â
âExplain what?â Itâs Elizabeth, standing in the doorway.
âDid you know your Uncle Albert had gambling debts? It drove him to bankruptcy.â
âDid he?â She stares into space, twiddling with the top button of her blouse. âThat makes sense of a few things.â
âLike what?â
âI was just a little girl, but Uncle Albert never had any kinds of games in the house, no board games, no quiz books, no playing cards, not even the sorts for children. You know, Snap or Happy Families⦠that kind of thing. And now I think about itâ¦.â Her voice turns distantâ¦. âWhenever we children were playing anything, if he tried to join in, Aunt Delia would find some way to call him away.â
âAunt Delia was his wife?â
âHis second wife. The first one left him.â
âDo you know why?â
She shakes her head. âI was just a baby when it was happening.â She sucks at her lower lip. âIf he went bankrupt, perhaps that broke up their marriage.â
âPerhaps.â
Michael works through a handful of yellowed papers, glancing at each one before screwing it up and tossing it to the waste. âWhat are you planning on doing with the house?â he asks. âIf you donât mind my asking.â
âI donât mind at all. But the house isnât mine. It came to the family through Aunt Delia. It goes back to her daughter.â
âOh!â he sounds surprised. âSorry, I assumedâ¦.â
âNoâ¦. The house goes to Monica. The bit of cash there is going to Albertâs sons, David and Stephen.â
Michael scratches at a temple. âSoâ¦. Albertâs sons and Deliaâs daughter are inheriting everything of value, but Albert appointed you as executor to the will?â
Elizabeth holds up her hands, gesturing around the office. âWhat do I need with more money?â She laughs. âIâm hardly scraping around the bottom of my purse for the last few coppers to put in the meter.â
âNo, of course not, butâ¦.â Michael bites down on whatever he was about to say.
Elizabeth surveys the expanse of paper. âPerhaps he just wanted someone impartial to administer the will?â
Michael gazes at the heap, and the other boxes, tugging at his chin with thumb and forefinger.
âPerhaps.â
I canât, or at least donât want to continue my search for a birthday gift for Elizabeth with her sitting there, so I make my way next door to my office instead.