Chapter 4: The Reading

Monday at ten, I walked back into the house I had left on Saturday.

Anthony walked in beside me. He had told me he would stay in the hall unless I needed him.

I needed him to be closer than the hall, and I didn't say so.

The reading was in Dad's study.

The lawyer sat behind the big oak desk with his papers squared in front of him.

Rowan sat to his right in Dad's leather chair, which nobody had asked him to take.

Pierce was on the sofa. Tobias stood by the window with his hands in his pockets, looking out at the wet lawn.

"Lizzie," Rowan said, standing. "I'm so glad you came. After Saturday, we were all concerned."

"You posted a video of me."

"We were concerned," he repeated gently.

I took the one chair left, at the far end of the room, and Anthony took the wall behind it.

Pierce saw him and snorted.

"The lender is here to watch the vultures," he said.

"The lender is here as a witness to the estate," the lawyer said, without looking up.

"At the request of the deceased. We'll begin."

He read for twenty minutes, in the dry voice of a man who had read a great many of these.

The house went to Rowan, Pierce and Tobias in equal shares.

Gerard Brannigan's seats on the company's board went to the three sons.

His accounts, his boat, his cars and his watches went to the three sons.

I had expected all of it. I still found I was gripping the arms of my chair.

"To my daughter, Elizabeth Brannigan," the lawyer read, and stopped.

Pierce stopped chewing his gum.

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