The Long Road Home, page 29
‘Rick Peterson, William Thomas,’ the man said, holding out his hand.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Rick said, leaping to his feet and accepting the hand.
‘Rick,’ the man repeated.
Rick frowned slightly. ‘Yes.’ He nodded. He was surprised to find the man clasping him by the shoulder. They were still holding hands. It seemed a little more intimate, familiar, than merely shaking hands. But it was nice, not at all creepy. And it was over in not much more than a second or two.
‘Come with me,’ he said, turning around.
Rick followed. At the reception desk, William paused and spoke quietly. ‘Michael, as you know, Isabell is often late. Please keep her here. If she doesn’t want to wait, reschedule. I’m not sure how long I’ll be tied up for. I’ll let you know as soon as I have some idea.’
‘Right, this way,’ William said, leading the way into an office not far down a hall.
‘Thanks so much for seeing me without an appointment,’ Rick said, entering the room.
‘No problem at all. Take a seat.’ William sat behind a huge modern mahogany desk. ‘So, what can I do for you? Michael said something about us handling an adoption or not actually an adoption, but something to do with one?’
‘Yes. Do you know anything about this?’ Rick said, bringing up the funeral notice picture again. ‘It turns out I’m the orphan son. I’ve only very recently discovered I was even adopted.’
‘Oh. Goodness me.’
‘I’m not sure there was a formal adoption done, or if it was necessary – my aunt and uncle, who took me in, were named as legal guardians in my parents’ Wills. My parents, Beatrice and Bartholomew, died in a warehouse fire here in Ballarat, along with my twin brother, Sebastian. We were eighteen months old. Nineteen-eighty-seven,’ he added.
‘Yes, that tragedy is ringing a bell. Very odd they wouldn’t have told you, but when you’ve dealt with people as much as I have, unfortunately, nothing comes as much of a surprise any more.’
Rick pulled his wallet from his pocket, dragged out his driver’s licence from behind the clear pocket and handed it over.
‘Okay. Thank you,’ William said, barely glancing at it before handing it back. He then began tapping on the keyboard on his desk.
Rick itched to fill the silence, but he waited. This man didn’t need to know all the details.
‘Ah, here we go.’
At that moment the receptionist, Michael, appeared and placed a piece of A4 paper, which Rick assumed must have come out of a printer in another room, on William’s desk. He also placed a glass of water on the edge of the desk, an arm’s length away from Rick.
‘I might need to do some digging, but here’s what I know right now,’ William finally said, sitting back and clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. ‘There is a trust fund in your name. We’ve been managing it since the year two thousand, having had to remove your aunt and uncle, Joseph and Maureen Peterson, after one or both of them made a fraudulent withdrawal of one hundred thousand dollars. We initially didn’t query it because often boarding school fees or some such are needed by guardians, who may also take lump sums to reimburse for expenses over time.’
Rick’s mind started searching for an explanation. No boarding school. Other expenses, then? And then his blood froze in his veins. The second farm? No. He tried to push it back, but it kept coming. Fuck. The farm he’d thought they’d bought to set him up on – for him – had been purchased around then, hadn’t it?
He didn’t know why and how he managed to sound so matter of fact, but he said, ‘Maureen has just died. She left me exactly one hundred thousand dollars in her Will.’
‘That will be to reimburse for that then, I imagine. There should really be interest.’ If they sell up everything, would Danni and Matilda pay the extra because it’s the right thing to do? ‘You could try to sue the estate, of course, but I’d be inclined to let it go –’ Sue them? Christ, imagine the twist Hope Springs would get its knickers into over that, even if Danni and Matilda didn’t freak out! ‘– given the position you’re in financially yourself.’
‘Sorry? I’m not following.’
‘That’s understandable, it’s a lot to take in. It says here a letter was sent to you just prior to your eighteenth birthday. It would have been by registered mail – to be signed for …’ He paused and looked up and must have noticed Rick’s face, which he thought was probably very pale, going by the queasiness in his stomach.
‘Unfortunately, there seems to have been a failure in the system somewhere along the line.’
Yeah, you could say that. Rick tried to blink away his confusion. ‘What was the letter about?’
‘Advising of your access to your trust and its balance and seeking instructions on how you wanted to proceed. Oh dear. You’ve really been let down all round, haven’t you?’
‘It seems that way.’ Had he spoken the words out loud? ‘So, um, what is the balance? Is that what you meant about my financial position?’ he asked, finally gaining some clarity.
‘You’re the sole beneficiary of a trust which currently has a cash balance of a little over four-point-two million dollars, plus a building.’
‘What? No. Really?’ Four million dollars? More than four million dollars? Rick felt the blood rise into his face and then drain away again. As he found himself reaching for the glass he almost laughed.
‘Yes. And the building.’
‘What building?’
‘Um. Let me see. Yes. You own a warehouse at One Crabtree Lane … It’s managed by the real estate agency named Olsen and Owens. They’re just in the next street over from here. They’d be the best people to speak with about that side of things. I know Gavin Owens well.’
So I have somewhere – of my own – to live? And I have my own money? And enough? More than enough? Oh wow. Rick’s head started to spin as it tried to make plans. He brought himself back. One step at a time. The warehouse wasn’t empty. He’d go and stay with Blair and take time to figure things out. But, fuck!
‘Wow,’ Rick now said aloud. ‘I’m a bit stunned, to be honest. So, is this money – the cash portion, is that all because someone set up a fund for money to care for me? Who? You – as in the firm here managing the trust?’
‘No, that wouldn’t have been us that organised the fundraising – the trust was active well before then. From this, it looks as if your maternal grandparents, the Willoughbys, set it up. Unfortunately, they both pre-deceased your parents by, er, oh. Just a year or so,’ he said, frowning slightly as he scrolled and peered at the screen. ‘Yes. Here it is. We became managers, on your behalf, after your parents’ deaths. I can’t tell you who organised the fundraising, because I don’t know. I could perhaps try to find out. Unfortunately, I would have to charge the trust for the time in searching, though …’
‘I understand.’ Was it Sarah? No, she would have mentioned it – or at least directed him to the law firm. God, please don’t tell me it was Joseph’s doing.
‘Could I perhaps suggest it might be best for you to let the dust settle for a bit?’ William said kindly. ‘You’re already dealing with an awful lot at the moment.’
‘Mm, you could be right. I’ll leave it for now.’
‘Okay. You can always change your mind later.’
‘Yes.’
Rick sighed. Did it really matter? Well, did it? Alice would say if he was meant to know, he would – in time. Anthea might agree.
‘Their occupations are listed as artists, so perhaps they were part of a group or attached to a gallery. Someone is bound to know something.’
Rick nodded thoughtfully in response. He had the strange sensation that he was meant to visit the local galleries, that Bart and Beatrice were asking him to, guiding him.
‘Hang on,’ he said, something coming back to him, ‘did you say the trust was started before my parents’ deaths?’
‘Yes. And there was already a reasonable balance. From an inheritance – your grandparents on your mother’s side; Eleanor Anne and Richard Harrison Willoughby. I’ll write their names down for you,’ he said, pulling a notepad towards him and picking up a pen. ‘Thankfully your parents were sensible and had reasonably up-to-date Wills. You inherited their assets and your brother Sebastian’s assets – and then of course the fundraising proceeds as well. And the rent from the warehouse has been topping up the principal ever since, of course,’ he added as he scribbled.
Rick found tears filling his eyes. He quickly wiped them away. ‘Oh god. I’m sorry. This is such a shock – and a huge relief, actually.’
‘I understand,’ William said, pushing a box of tissues across towards Rick. He took one and wiped his eyes and blew his nose before stuffing the soggy item into his pocket.
‘Why didn’t they leave me with someone else – someone nice, then, if they were so organised?’
‘I can’t answer that. Perhaps they were the only remaining relatives and they thought it best you were with family. I’m sorry if it wasn’t a happy experience for you.’
It really, really wasn’t. But it wasn’t all bad, was it? Rick tried to make himself think of some happy moments, but he failed. It was a montage of being told off, his ideas being ridiculed, and his dreams thwarted. He shook it aside. Anthea would probably say he needed to look to the future, not dwell on the past. Come to terms with it, not forgetting or dismissing its lessons, while focussing on the here and now. No, he couldn’t let all that run into his future.
‘But I do have a lot to be thankful for,’ he said, thinking aloud, a little forcefully. For a start, he was alive and healthy. And he was young, with plenty of skills to fall back on. Farm life had been good for equipping him with practical skills. He would soon have a roof over his head – his own, rent free, mortgage free roof – and a sizeable bank balance. Plenty of people would kill for that. Money didn’t buy happiness and couldn’t make up for all the love he hadn’t been shown. But it certainly helped him feel he’d be okay while he healed from that. It bought him time and gave him options. And of course the greatest gift in all this was realising he had a creative soul, which he was now allowed to use. He was free to pursue a new career.
‘I’m going to study,’ he blurted suddenly. ‘Art. I’m going to be an artist.’ Make up for all those years of school and tertiary education he’d been denied.
‘That’s great. Good for you,’ William said. ‘If there wasn’t anything else, I’m afraid I had better be getting on.’
‘Oh, yes. Sorry.’ Rick wondered how long he’d been sitting silently musing on his thoughts and taking up this patient man’s time. ‘What happens now – with the trust?’
‘That’s up to you. We can organise for you to have full control or we can continue to manage it. It’s entirely up to you.’
‘Could we just leave it as it is? I need to figure a few things out.’
‘Certainly. You know where we are now,’ William said, getting up from his desk.
Rick stood up too. His legs were weak and quivering. He hoped they’d hold him.
‘Actually, could you please let the real estate agent managing the warehouse know I might want to live there when the tenants leave?’
‘Yes. I can do that. I’ll let him know right away,’ William said, leaning down and making a note on a pad on his desk.
‘Thanks so much. For everything,’ Rick said, holding out his hand.
‘It’s been my pleasure. Here’s my card. Just let me know if there is anything you need. Whenever you’re ready. Take care now.’
‘Okay. Thanks. It’s a lot to get my head around,’ he said while staring at the card but not really seeing it.
Chapter Twenty-nine
In a daze, Rick somehow found his way back to Alice’s flat and his car, which he’d packed ready to go before he left to walk to work with her. He hadn’t wanted her to feel she had to give him a key. He unlocked the driver’s door and got in. He sent Blair a text and waited for a response. Rick really hoped he was home and it was okay for him to go out there now. He knew he should probably be doing other things but didn’t feel he had the energy. He’d had enough information for one day. His brain was full. He’d call Alice later. He didn’t want to disturb her at work. And he didn’t want to blurt out his news and be insensitive – she wasn’t exactly flush with cash, so it might be a bit hurtful. Not that she wouldn’t be glad for him, but still … Oh! Hang on a sec. Technically I had this money when we were married, and when we divvied things up. So that means I definitely owe her something. Oh man. This could do my head in completely if I let it. Breathe, Ricky boy, breathe!
Would he keep it all to himself or tell Blair? he wondered while he continued to wait. It might help to talk to a stranger. He felt he kind of needed to tell someone.
He found his thoughts straying to Ashley, as they had on and off over the weekend. Each time he’d sent them on their way. She was meant to be hooking up with Blair. But as a neutral person – an educated one at that: a lawyer – she might be useful. Should he ask her out for coffee? And ask her what? Ah, who was he kidding? He couldn’t be around her on his own.
What about Blair and Alice? The whole thing was weird. But, god, he didn’t want to find himself in the middle of a love triangle. Or was it a love square? Or maybe a circle. God, too much for me, he thought with a laugh, blinking and shaking his head.
When Rick’s attention was caught by the movement of a curtain in the window of another flat in the group, he turned the car on. He didn’t want to have to explain his lurking to the police. He reversed out and into the street and then around the corner where he parked again, this time under the shade of a tree. While he waited for a reply from Blair, he pulled up the details for the nearest bottle shop on his phone, and directions to it. He didn’t want to drink anything, now or probably later, but he also didn’t want to turn up to Blair’s empty-handed and he couldn’t immediately think of what else to take.
* * *
‘Hey, there you are,’ Blair said, appearing from around a corner of a corrugated iron shed. ‘Found me okay, then?’
‘Yep, no problems at all. Lovely spot you have here,’ he said, looking around. And he meant it. He’d enjoyed the drive out, especially once the traffic had thinned. He had a soft spot for tall timber. Perhaps it was because he was away and his opinion was clouded, but this area seemed so much more beautiful than the country around Hope Springs.
‘Thanks. It’s home. Welcome,’ he said, holding out his hand.
Rick accepted it with a firm grip. ‘Here, this is for you. I wasn’t sure what else to bring. Wine. I got one of each – red and white.’
‘You didn’t need to do that, but thank you,’ Blair said, accepting the package he held out. ‘I’ve made us an early lunch. This way,’ and he picked up the handle of Rick’s overnight bag with his other hand before Rick had a chance to.
‘Great looking house, too,’ Rick said on the way up a path towards the dark bluey-purple-painted weatherboard house.
‘Yeah. Thanks. I love it. It’s not huge and it’s pretty basic but it does the trick. Even if I had ten million dollars, I’d probably still be here. You’re just in here,’ he said as they got inside, putting Rick’s bag into a room off the hall to the right. ‘Let’s eat, and then I’ll give you a proper tour.’
In the kitchen Rick was surprised and pleased to see two dogs – a large, lean black and white kelpie-border-collie-cross, he thought it was, and a smaller, slightly stockier red kelpie – lounging around on big mats in a strip of light shining through the glass sliding door. They got up and stretched and loped over to him. They stood, gazing up at him with their tails waving slowly back and forth. Rick’s heart panged for Jess and the dog, Timmy, he couldn’t remember having known. And then the next thought he had was that good people had dogs inside.
‘Aren’t you lovely?’ he said, holding out his hands for them to sniff and then patting their heads.
‘Meet Eric and Ruby – you can see who is who,’ Blair said. ‘Guys, this is Rick.’
‘Great names,’ Rick said.
‘Sit, take a load off,’ Blair said, waving towards the table where a small pile of sandwiches sat on a chopping board under a glass dome. There were two tall water glasses turned upside down on a tray and a jug of water under a crocheted cover with orange beads hanging down. Maureen had had one of those. Rick was pleased that thinking of her caused him to feel nothing much at all. She was gone. She was the past and he was looking to the future. He had the thought of what to do about the funeral lurking at the back of his mind, which he tried to keep back out of sight. ‘Cup of tea or coffee? Or you can just help yourself to the water, or have a beer if you want. I don’t tend to indulge until after five, but you feel free.’
‘I’m right, thanks.’
The dogs walked away and lay back down in the sun.
‘Help yourself,’ Blair said, taking off the glass dome and setting it aside.
Rick took a couple of sandwich halves and put them on the small plate in front of him. He hadn’t thought he was all that hungry until he smelt the egg filling.
‘So, how was the rest of your weekend? Find out anything interesting in your search?’ Blair asked, between mouthfuls and sips from his water.
‘Huh?’
‘You were going to check out the address you had when we said goodbye to you on Saturday,’ Blair prompted.
‘Oh yes. God.’ Rick was again surprised at how much had happened, how much he’d learnt, in such a short space of time. ‘Do I have a story for you …’
‘Wow,’ Blair said, his eyes wide, when Rick had caught him up on all his news. ‘I’m not sure what to say about all that. Better late than never? So, what does Alice say?’
‘I haven’t told her what I found out at the lawyers. I didn’t want to disturb her at work. I’ll call her later.’
‘Fair enough. I think she’ll understand. She’s a good sort.’
‘Yep. The best.’ Rick tried to imagine going through this without her and stopped. He did have her. And he didn’t want to imagine his life without her in it again.
