“I’ve changed my mind, Mr. McBride. I’ll come to your office with a basic outline for my will whenever it is convenient for you,” I said.
“Good. Good,” he responded. I could hear the rustle of endless papers in the background.
“When would that be?” I continued when he didn’t respond further.
“Tomorrow?” It sounded like a question. “Oh no, I’ll be out of town. Would you mind if an associate handled this? It’s a fairly routine matter,” he added.
I paused. This wasn’t going to help me at all. “I would really prefer that you handle it. I’d feel more comfortable.”
“Ah,” he started, “Let’see. I may not be able to sit down with you for several weeks. You could go back to Maine and have your own lawyer take care of this, if you want. But it’s imperative that it be done within the week.”
“No,” I insisted, “I’d rather settle this while I’m here.”
“I’m sorry; I’m swamped over the next few days. But let me transfer you to the office manager. Maybe an associate can fit you in now. And Mackenzie?”
“Yes,” I said, hiding my disappointment.
“You’re doing the right thing, I promise you.” The line clicked off.
“I know I am,” I murmured.
Only moments later I was told to come-on-down. As is. Someone would see me and take care of composing my last will and testament. I hadn’t planned on this. I didn’t have anything ready. But it didn’t matter what they put on paper. I could always change it later.
I had hardly lowered myself onto a lacquered chair in the waiting room when I heard, “Mrs. Weichmann, Mr. McBride will see you now.”
“Mr. McBride? I thought he was busy.”
She smiled. “He’s here. Down the hall…”
I’d nearly reached his office door when I heard, “Ms. Weichmann.”
A man was standing behind me. “My office is right here.”
He pointed across the hallway. He was at least six two and had that blue-black hair that is rare. His skin was so fair in contrast that he looked like one of those porcelain dolls you put on a shelf. The hint of a five o’clock shadow was there and probably always was; his suit tailored and expensive. He looked familiar in some way. As I passed him I noticed that his eyes were a bright pale blue surrounded by long, spidery eyelashes. My hand went automatically to my head smoothing the curls that often sprung out of place without warning. I suddenly regretted that I hadn’t at least gone back to the hotel room to change and wash up a bit. I could feel the layer of sweaty grime on my skin.
“No, I’m here to see Mr. McBride,” I stated firmly. I had come too far to be passed off to someone else.
“Yes, you are. I’m Dylan McBride.” He smiled at me, showing straight white teeth and dimples.
“William McBride’s son?”
He nodded. “I’ll be back in one minute. Make yourself comfortable.”
The office was cramped and windowless. The desk, the four bookshelves and the chairs all looked as if they’d been purchased in one shopping trip to IKEA, functional, reasonably nice but not expensive. The office was devoid of personal effects. There were no law degrees or photographs on the wall. The desk top was completely clean of papers or clutter. I stared across the empty expanse of pine at his bookshelf. Nothing here to help me. Just then he came back in and blocked my view when he lowered himself into his chair.
“Have you come up with some ideas about your will, Ms. Weichmann?”
“Mackenzie, please call me Mackenzie” I said.
“Interesting name.” His arms rested on the desk top, his fingers interlaced. His eyes studied me; the steady gaze made me slightly uncomfortable.
“My mother’s maiden name.” I cleared my throat. “Her name was Joan Mackenzie. My mother and father couldn’t agree on a name until after I was born, so they just slapped my mother’s maiden name in front and that was it.” I was babbling. He eyes were still on me; he said nothing. I continued. “And I never liked the name Weichmann. It doesn’t go with Mackenzie. It sounds like a Nazi name, but that was Eichmann, wasn’t it? And now I find out all this time I could have been Mackenzie Whitfield. That has a nicer sound to it, but I think I’m going to go with my maiden name, Carlisle.”
“So…” His smile was tight. “…the will?” He hadn’t even been listening.
“Yes, well this was such short notice. I didn’t have a chance to write anything down. It’ll be very simple though.”
“No, we’ll start with this.” He pushed a piece of paper at me. “Answer these questions first and then we can talk some more.”
I looked down at the sheet. The words executor and beneficiary popped out at me. The letters all started to blur together. I couldn’t concentrate. I glanced up.
Dylan was studying Nick’s documents, rocking slightly in his chair. “It’s a bit of money to consider,” His eyes held mine briefly.
“Did you know the Whitfields?” I asked abruptly.
“Not really. My father knew the family, but I can’t say I did. They lived not too far from us when I was growing up but didn’t socialize much, I guess.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The statement was wooden, but I barely heard it. ”Where did you grow up? Near here?” I tried not to sound too eager.
He nodded distractedly. “Chestnut Hill.” He was engrossed in the papers in his hand. “If you aren’t interested in setting up trusts, anything like that it shouldn’t take long to draw up a document so we can probate your husband’s will. You need to finish those questions and then we can move on to…” He stared at me. “Are you with me, Mackenzie?”
I nodded. “Does Nick’s mother still live there, do you know?”
His brow furrowed slightly. “I think so…”
“Would you happen to have her address? I want to send her a card.” I had moved to the edge of my seat.
He dropped the papers and leaned forward. “A card? To Nick’s mother? You mean you haven’t spoken to her?” His head tilted to one side with curiosity.
Nick had used precious last minutes warning me not to trust anyone. I had no idea if he meant to include this man on the other side of the desk when he spoke those words. My stomach was clenching. Dylan McBride’s cornflower eyes were boring straight into mine. “No, I haven’t. Nick wasn’t on close terms with her. But I thought she should know…” I hesitated. “I’m at a loss as to how to do that. He didn’t give me so much as an address.” I moved back in my chair and rubbed at my face with my hand. “I was going to Google her but I don’t even know her name.”
Everything about him suddenly relaxed, softened a bit. “It’s funny, when I read your file I thought you were going to come in here eager to get this taken care of.” He raised Nick’s will in the air and shook it slightly. “To get your money. Most people would. But you almost seem bored with the details.”
“The money was a complete surprise. To tell you the truth, it doesn’t even seem real.” I sucked in air sharply feeling my eyes begin to water. I didn’t want to cry. “It’s been very hard, Mr. McBride, because I’m all alone with this. My family is…scattered around. And I never knew Nick’s. Please, can you tell how to reach her?” My best attempt at holding myself together failed and I felt a tear roll down onto my cheek. I wiped it quickly with a finger tip.
When I looked up a small smile played on his lips. His abrupt, business-like demeanor was gone. “That would make you happy? To meet her? Really?”
I nodded. I felt like such a ninny sitting in this law office in my shorts and tank top, clutching my cheap purse to my bosom.
He rubbed his chin lightly with his thumb and index finger. “All right, look, I’ll show you where the house is. You’d probably never find it on your own…”
“Would you really?” This was more than I had ever hoped for when I walked in his office.
He nodded. “Meet me back here at six. Sharp.” He pushed the pen closer to me. “Now, can you make me happy and get started on these questions? My father is going to expect this to be ready…”
But I was half way out the door. My will could wait.