Roger Turner had been practicing law just a few years in Oklahoma City, when James Franklin Williams met him. Williams had persuaded Turner to come to Derrick to work for him. Turner had never regretted leaving Oklahoma City. Indeed, he had become the wealthiest lawyer in Derrick by working for Williams and taking Williams’ advice about investing.
Now, Henry Yates, the butler who had been hired years before and who had been visiting relatives for more than a week, escorted Turner into the living room where Frank, Mary, and George stood in front of the fireplace. Mary and George had been talking about each other’s ranch. Frank had been listening intently. Turner smiled and acknowledged everyone.
“Roger, please sit down,” Mary said.
“Thank you, Mary.” Turner sat on the large sofa.
The family members sat in chairs.
When Turner was comfortable, he put his briefcase in his lap, opened it, and retrieved a copy of James Williams’s will. He shut the briefcase and put it on the rug that was in front of the sofa.
He glanced at each and cleared his throat. “Yesterday, I spoke to Mary and informed her that I would be happy to share her late husband’s will with members of the family. This is the primary reason I’m here. I’ll read only the paragraphs that pertain to each one here. Okay?”
They nodded.
Turner cleared his throat again and looked at the document. He read:
“‘I, James Franklin Williams, the sole writer of this will and last testament, and the testator, leave all of my possessions to my wife, Mary Jane Williams, my son, Franklin David Williams, and my brother, George David Williams.
“‘Mary, my wife, I leave the following: my interests in the newspaper, Derrick Daily News, and the radio station, KADO, the money in the Merchants Bank, the house and all of its contents in Derrick, and the ranch, including the primary and secondary houses, other buildings, tools, equipment, and livestock. I also leave the shares of stock in the Merchants Bank to Mary. I also leave the shares of stock in various companies to Mary.’”
Turner stopped reading and looked at Mrs. Williams. “Although the names of the companies will be listed in the final document, I’ve brought a list, in case you’d like to see it.”
Mary shook her head. “That’s okay, Roger. I can wait.”
Turner nodded. Then he looked at the document and continued reading:
“‘I request that Mary provide ample salary increases for those who manage the interior and exterior of the house and lawn, service the cars, as well as those who operate the ranch. These increases should come out of the fund I have established at the Merchants Bank.’”
Turner looked at Mrs. Williams. “Any questions, Mary?”
Mary shook her head. “Not at this time, Roger.”
Turner turned to Frank. “This passage pertains to you, Frank.” Then he looked at the document and read again:
“‘Frank, my son, I leave the following: the Williams Petroleum Company in Derrick, Oklahoma, and the Williams Trucking Company in Chicago, Illinois. In addition, Frank is to receive the money in the Depositors Bank and Trust. The money has been put into a trust. Frank must be at least thirty years of age before he can withdraw or use any of it for personal purposes, including investing it in stock, land, and/or other businesses. I also leave the shares of stock in the Depositors Bank and Trust to Frank.’”
Turner looked at Frank. “Any questions, Frank?”
“I don’t think so.”
Turner then shifted slightly in his chair. “This passage pertains to you, George.” He read:
“‘George, my brother, I leave the following: the money in the Bank of Oklahoma. I also leave the shares of stock in the Bank of Oklahoma to George.’”
Turner glanced at George. “Any questions, George?”
George shook his head. “No.”
Turner glanced at each member of the family before he returned his gaze to the document and read:
“‘This last will and testament has been signed in the presence of my lawyer and good friend, Mr. Roger Turner, and his secretary, Miss Jean Carter.’”
Turner picked up his briefcase, opened it, dropped the will into it, shut it, and put it on the rug. “By the way, I’ve noticed that I brought the original―not the updated―version of the document.”
“What do you mean, Roger?” Mary asked.
“Well, your husband added two or three passages to the original. One or two were for the section pertaining to you and one or two were for the section pertaining to Frank, if my memory is correct.”
Mary nodded. “Are these passages important? I mean, do these passages change anything?”
Turner nodded. “Yes. Your husband added another company or two to the list mentioned in the section pertaining to you. He provided a suggestion or explanation in the section pertaining to Frank. Of course, these will be in the final version. Each will be given a copy. Any questions?”
“Roger, do you know how much money is in each bank?” Mary asked.
“Yes. Your husband provided the amounts when I was preparing your family’s taxes. If you prefer, I will write the amounts on pieces of paper and―”
“No need for that, Roger, we’re family,” she interjected.
“All right,” he said. He opened his suit coat and retrieved a piece of paper from an inside pocket. “The amount in the Merchants Bank is almost twenty-five million dollars. The amount in the Depositors Bank and Trust is about fifteen million dollars. And the amount in the Bank of Oklahoma is almost ten million dollars. As you know, James was a member of the board of each of these banks. I’m sure you will be contacted soon by a representative of each board. I will be happy to answer any questions concerning the shares of stock—that is, if anyone has any questions. Of course, the specific number of shares will be in the final paperwork.”
Mary, Frank, and George glanced at each other. However, none had any questions.
“Thank you, Roger. When may we expect the final paperwork?” Mary asked.
“I’d say in about six to nine months.”
“That long?” Frank asked.
“Yes. We have to make sure that all the bills have been paid, et cetera, et cetera. And we have to make certain that no one in this room had anything to do with your father’s death.”
“Surely you don’t believe one of us had anything to do with it?” he asked.
“Of course not, Frank, but the investigation is not over.”
Frank nodded. “I understand.”
Mary stood. “Would you like a glass of tea, Roger?”
Turner shook his head. “No, Mary, I have to return to my office.”
“How about a glass of wine?”
“Thank you, Mary, but no, I must be going.”
They watched Turner leave the room.
Frank looked at his mother who was still standing. “Well, Mother, it seems father still loved us.” Frank realized immediately that his remark was thoughtless, if not flippant.
“Frank, you shouldn’t have said that. You know your father loved your mother and you very much,” George said sternly.
Frank noticed the frown on his uncle’s face. “I’m sorry, Uncle George. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He changed the subject. “It’s funny.”
“What is?” George asked curtly.
“The part about the trust.”
“What about it?” George asked.
“Apparently, he had made the will some time ago, before I went back to school to get my MBA. Otherwise, I don’t think he would have included that clause.”
His mother smiled, but she didn’t say anything.
“Your father may have thought you wouldn’t need that amount until after you completed your MBA,” George said. “In other words, he could have made the will when you were working on your degree. At the time, he may have assumed you would work at the petroleum company after you graduated and you wouldn’t need that amount until you were on your feet, so to speak.”
Frank nodded. “I never thought about that, Uncle George. You may be right.”
Uncle George smiled. Then he stood and turned toward Mary. “I’d better be going.”
“I’ll see you out.”
Frank watched them leave the room. Then he walked to his father’s office, which was several rooms away from the living room, off of the hall. He walked near the fireplace and noticed the wet bar, which was several feet away to the right. He glanced at the various bottles of liquor and the short stack of glasses. He remembered asking his father one evening why he had so many bottles of liquor. He remembered his father laughing and then replying, “Frank, I keep these bottles around primarily for guests, especially business associates.” He remembered his father adding, “I prefer a glass of wine. Not that stuff.” He remembered his father pointing at the bottles of liquor.
Frank was standing in front of the fireplace when his mother entered.
“I’m surprised to find you in his office,” she said. “After all, you hardly ever come in here.”
Frank turned and noticed the curious expression on his mother’s face.
“I knew he came in here whenever he had business to attend to or needed some time to himself.”
Mary nodded. “I understand, Frank.” She glanced around the room and noticed the computer resting on the large desk. “I suppose I need to go through the desk some day.”
“Some day, but not today.”
She smiled and said, “I didn’t mean today, Frank.”
He nodded and said, “I know, Mother.”
Still smiling, Mary suddenly turned and left.
Frank glanced around the office and noticed a photograph in a dark frame on his father’s desk. He picked it up and smiled. Frank, a toddler, was sitting on his father’s lap. Frank looked at himself in the photograph. I must’ve been about two or three years old, he thought. He remembered that his father had been fond of the photograph. Frank returned the photograph to the desk. He glanced around the office again, noticing additional pictures of his father with prominent politicians. His father had supported several over the years. He wondered if his father’s financial contributions had paid off.
Frank left the office and went to the kitchen to see if his mother was there. When he entered, he saw Francine standing in front of the stove. She was stirring a large pot. “Francine, have you seen my mother?” he finally asked.
Francine turned and shook her head. “No, Frank, I haven’t.”
“Thanks.”
He went to the nearest staircase. “Mother?” he called.
His mother was upstairs. “Yes?” she replied.
“I’m going out.”
“Okay. Will you be here for dinner?”
“I’ll try.”
* * *
Frank drove to the building where Maria Martinez lived. He pulled into a parking space, got out, entered, and walked up the stairs to her apartment. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He glanced at his watch and realized she was probably at work. He shook his head as if he should have known that she was working. He walked down the stairs, got into his car, and drove home.
When he entered the house he noticed his mother was sitting at the dining room table, drinking a cup of coffee. He entered the dining room and smiled at her. “Is dinner ready?”
“It will be in a few minutes. Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Frank sat down and watched his mother pour coffee into his cup.
After she had put the coffee pot back on the pad she looked at him. “I’m surprised you’re back so soon. Where’d you go?”
“I drove to see Maria Martinez.”
“Really?” His mother was surprised.
Frank noticed the smile on his mother’s face. “Yes, really,” he replied, “but she wasn’t home.”
“Are you thinking about continuing your relationship with her?” she asked.
“That’s not the reason I wanted to see her.”
Mary shook her head as if Frank’s response was not the response she had expected. “Well, for what it’s worth, I believe you should continue your relationship with her. Maria is a very special person.”
“I know that, Mother.”
Francine entered from the kitchen pushing the wooden mahogany cart that was generally kept in one of the corners of the dining room. The cart had a large bowl of soup resting on it. She pushed the cart close to the table.
“Let me help you, Francine,” Frank said.
Frank walked to the cart, picked up the bowl of soup, and carefully placed it on a large pad on the table.
“Thank you, Frank,” Francine said.
Frank watched Francine push the cart to its usual corner. He asked, “Is there something else I can do for you?”
She turned and replied, “Yes, Frank. I’ve prepared a large salad and several sandwiches. If you’ll carry the salad bowl, I’d appreciate it.”
Frank followed Francine into the kitchen and got the large salad bowl, which he placed on the table. Then he returned to his chair.
Francine arrived a few seconds later, carrying a large dish filled with sandwiches. She placed the dish on the table. Then she glanced around, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Everything looks delicious, Francine,” Mary said.
Francine smiled. “Thank you, Mary.” Then she returned to the kitchen.
Mary glanced at the table. “What do you think, Frank?”
“About what?”
“What Francine has prepared?”
Frank cleared his throat. “Well, you can’t go wrong with a fresh green salad, home-made pimento cheese sandwiches, and vegetable soup. Francine’s pimento cheese sandwiches and vegetable soup are the best I’ve tasted.”
Mary nodded in agreement. However, her mind was on Maria Martinez. She glanced at Frank and wondered if she should mention Maria again. She watched Frank reach for the bowl of salad. She watched him fill his salad bowl. Although she wanted to discuss Maria, she didn’t. Instead, she filled her salad bowl and started eating.