Chapter Fifteen

 

 

David Rossini was a short, plump man in his fifties. He wore a tonsure, or monk’s haircut, and what little fringe of hair he had was more salt than pepper. Despite his less than striking looks, he had a pleasant countenance and a warm smile. Nevertheless, he gave Tess and Aaron a look as if he were taken aback by them.

Figuring to disarm the man who might be suing them for some unknown reason, Tess asked brightly, “Are you related to the Italian composer?”

Rossini chuckled as he shook their hands and indicated the two chairs in front of his wide, teak desk. The paneled walls and thick Turkish carpets reflected a level of wealth she’d never before seen in an attorney’s office. Whoever this man was, he exuded success and a rich clientele. So what were they doing here?

“Not that I know of, Miss MacIntosh. Everyone in my family is tone deaf, can’t play or sing a note.” As he sat, he unbuttoned the jacket of his gray silk suit. Tess noted the expensive fabric, a beautiful raw, nubby silk that would look elegant on a man with Aaron’s physique. Then and there, she determined to take Aaron shopping for such a suit. And she would talk—or seduce—him into accepting her investment.

Rossini looked first at Tess, then at Aaron, steepling his chubby fingers in front of his face and tapping his chin.

“What is this about, Mr. Rossini?” asked Aaron impatiently.

Tess shot him a warning look. Instantly, it struck her that this attorney had something to do with Frank Marello.

“Do you represent Frank Marello?” she asked peremptorily. Aaron looked at her, his mouth dropping, his face paling.

“Tess!” Shock registered on every feature of his face. Apparently, he’d never considered the connection. Rossini waved away Aaron’s startled look.

“Sorry, but I needed a moment to assess something. You two are not quite what I expected. You’re younger, for one thing. Quite a handsome couple and apparently unaware of what I am about to announce.”

“Well, I’m clueless, anyway,” groused Aaron. “What’s going on? Did you know Frank Marello? We’re not being blamed for his death, are we? I thought it was declared a suicide. People on the ship saw him…”

“No, there’s no cause for alarm, Mr. Peterson. This has nothing to do with his death. I just wanted to take a little time to assess your relationship with Frank Marello. What you thought of him, for example.”

Aaron looked perplexed. “I-I don’t understand. We didn’t have a relationship. He came every night to our show, sat there and didn’t say a word.”

Tess, beginning to understand what this meeting was about, prompted him with a nudge. “Aaron, that one night you played poker with him.”

“Well, just that one night. We played in a poker tournament, just five of us men. Had some laughs over drinks, talked a bit. I could see he was depressed. Frank told me his life story that night…” He trailed off and looked over at Tess. “He said he could tell how much we loved each other, that I should ask her to marry me. I told him it was complicated, Tess was engaged to another man—” He broke off, embarrassed now at his candor with a stranger.

“Then,” Tess broke in, “the night Mr. Marello died, he gave me these earrings. He told me that they were his wife’s and now another…woman should have them.” She took the black velvet box out of her big tote bag and gave it to Mr. Rossini, who opened it and nodded before setting it down on his desk. “I was going to pawn them today, but I couldn’t.” She glanced at Aaron and told him, “I wanted to raise more money for your play but for some reason, Aaron, I couldn’t part with these. It just dawned on me that’s why we’re here. Mr. Rossini wants them back for Frank Marello’s estate. There’s someone in his family who should have them.”

“These emeralds are indeed valuable,” Rossini said, gazing at them both with a contemplative air, “but in his estate there is much more of value. Frank wanted you to have them, Miss MacIntosh, so they’re yours…to do with as you wish.”

It was Tess’ turn to drop her jaw. Rossini gave the velvet box back to her.

“I must conclude that Frank never spoke to you about his intended bequest,” Rossini went on.

“Bequest?” Tess and Aaron chorused. Tess sat still, her nerve endings starting to tingle. Omigod. Omigod.

“Frank Lorenzo Marello was my uncle and is still my client, postmortem. He was a wonderful man, a brilliant engineer and a successful businessman. His corporation made him a very wealthy individual. Unfortunately, wealth is no guarantee of lasting happiness or good health. The last five years of his life were unbelievably tragic. Having lost his wife, my lovely aunt, and then his two sons, my uncle was hit with yet another shock. Terminal pancreatic cancer. He told me before he left on that cruise that he would never return. As his only remaining relative, other than my son and daughter, I suspected what he was planning to do. After witnessing the slow, agonizing effects of his wife’s illness and how immediate and painlessly his sons had passed on in their car crash, he often spoke about the blessings of a quick death. Knowing my uncle as I did, I accepted his decision and respected it.”

By now, Aaron was frowning and staring at his hands, clasped together tightly in his lap. His face was stricken, making Tess’s heart begin to pound. His eyes had turned red and puffy, for he still agonized over his failure to prevent the man from committing suicide. As if Aaron bore the weight of the world’s sorrow, but that was the man she loved. His humanity inspired her. Empathizing with him, she felt her eyes sting and well up.

So what was a bequest? She wasn’t certain what the word meant.

“I tried to show him that life was still worth living,” Aaron said quietly, “that you could still find some joy, some peace, however small. I tried to show him how my music gave me joy and peace, and the same was true for Tess.”

Rossini nodded solemnly. “I understand you helped to identify his body afterwards.”

Aaron’s reply was barely audible. “Yes.”

“Thank you for doing that. It must’ve been difficult.” Rossini shuffled some papers, then opened a folder. “My uncle called me the day of his death and told me about two young people, whose lounge act on the ship was the last bit of enjoyment he’d have on this planet. He actually thought it ironic because he’d never been a lover of music. I think whatever pleasure he got in his last five days was from watching you two enjoy yourselves as you shared your gifts with the passengers on board. He said you showed such love and passion for your music, the same kind of love and passion he’d felt for his work during his golden years.”

As Rossini spoke, Tess reached out across the space between their chairs and seized Aaron’s hand. Tears rolled down one of her cheeks; Aaron tried to sniff back his, but finally gave up.

Rossini smiled and slid a box of tissue over to their side of his desk. They couldn’t speak, but both snatched tissues and dabbed their faces and wiped their noses.

“My uncle wrote an Addendum to his Last Will and Testament that very day. It was witnessed by the—” the attorney consulted a sheet of paper—“First Officer of the Star Empress and notarized by the Chief Purser, and faxed to me that same day. It is a personal bequest in the amount of one million dollars. A half-million to each of you, to do with as you see fit.”

Tess covered her mouth and stared at Aaron, paralyzed with shock. With difficulty, she forced out a raspy voice. “There must be a mistake. He gave me those earrings. Why would he—” She broke off, suddenly speechless. It didn’t make sense. People didn’t just give their money away to strangers. Her own parents never gave her a dime.

“Yes, Miss MacIntosh, I’m aware of that,” said Rossini, “To this day, I don’t understand why Frank took those earrings with him on that cruise…unless it was his intention to pass them on to someone who reminded him of his wife…her beauty—” he smiled tenderly—“her red hair…her lovely voice.” The attorney pointed to a gilt framed photograph on the shelf along one paneled wall. It was a family portrait: A much younger Frank Marello in a suit, his attractive, red-haired wife in a black gown, two dark-haired boys in their teens. “She sang at all of our family gatherings. Mary had a lovely voice. My uncle was like that, a little secretive about personal feelings. However, there’s no mistake about the bequest or the Addendum. Everything is sound and legal. No one will contest this Addendum, I assure you. I’ll have you sign some documents first before taking receipt of these two checks.”

He took papers from the folder and placed them, along with two pens, in front of Tess and Aaron. They hesitated and looked at each other. Aaron shook his head and wiped his eyes.

“It doesn’t seem right.”

“No one shall contest this bequest, Mr. Peterson, extraordinary and generous as it might seem to you. As I stated before, my uncle was a very wealthy man. He made many other similar bequests during the last six months of his life. He knew he was dying and this was his way of giving back.”

After several minutes of quiet weeping, Tess’ tears dried up and she grew silent. She felt conflicted, both elated and guilty. It was Aaron who finally crossed the emotional barrier. He wiped his face and cleared his throat.

“If it’s all right with you, Mr. Rossini, I’d like to dedicate all of the performances of my play to Frank. Without this incredible gift, those performances wouldn’t be possible.”

The attorney blinked a few times and then smiled. “My uncle would’ve liked that. I imagine he’ll be there in spirit.”

“I know he will,” said Aaron. He looked over at Tess and grinned. “Rehearsals are back on.”

Frank Marello had just breathed life into Aaron’s dream.