A Daughter's Inheritance by Tracie Peterson, Judith Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

knew they stood to gain much from Grandfather’s passing. The three Broadmoor sons—Jonas, Quincy, and Langley— had always been the foundation for Hamilton Broadmoor’s estate. That didn’t keep second and third cousins from showing up to see how they might benefit, however.
    Fanny had been appalled to actually find a collection of women she barely knew rummaging through the house, declaring which pieces they intended to ask for.
    “I don’t understand why we have to be here,” Fanny said to her cousins. They sat on either side of her and waited, along with the rest of the family, for the reading of Grandfather’s will.
    “I don’t, either,” Amanda said, looking around. “I suppose it’s some formality, but Father said that everyone was to be present.”
    “They just want to pick apart Grandfather’s possessions and get what they can for themselves,” Fanny said sadly. “They were never here for him or for anyone else. They hate one another and treat one another abominably. The only reason they came to the island each summer was to get what they could.”
    Sophie squeezed her hand. “Ignore them. They are undeserving of your concern. Grandfather was no fool.”
    “It’s true,” Amanda whispered. “He didn’t brook nonsense, and there’s nothing to suggest he will now.”
    “But he’s dead. He has no say over anything anymore.” Fanny fought back her tears. She couldn’t help but wonder if this loss would signal the final demise of family as she knew it.
    “If I know Grandfather,” Sophie said, leaning close enough for them both to hear, “he will control this family long after he’s in the ground. You mark my words.”
    “Is everyone present?” Mortimer Fillmore stood in the center of the library and looked around the room. Extra chairs had been carried into the room to provide seating for the family.
    Uncle Jonas nodded. “I believe everyone was notified of the time and place for the reading. You may begin.”
    Fanny stared at the lawyer and decided he was probably close to the same age as old Mr. Snodgrass. She tentatively lifted her hand.
    “This isn’t a classroom, Fanny,” Jonas said. “You need not raise your hand before speaking.”
    “Where is Grandfather’s lawyer? Shouldn’t he be reading the will?”
    Mr. Fillmore’s complexion paled. She hadn’t meant to offend the man, but Mr. Rosenblume had been her grandfather’s lawyer for many years. It seemed only proper that a member of the Rosenblume Law Office would be present today.
    Her uncle frowned. “Since I am to be executor of the will, I have requested that my personal attorney handle the estate.”
    Fanny ignored the other relatives, who had by now begun to fidget in their chairs. “Did Grandfather inform you of your selection as executor before he died?”
    “Yes, Fanny, he did. Now if you have no further questions, I believe the rest of us would like to proceed.”
    A hum of agreement filled the room. If she asked anything else, the shoestring relatives would likely toss her out on her ear. All eyes were fixed on the old lawyer. He walked to Grandfather’s desk and sat down before he unsealed the thick, cream-colored envelope. He pressed the pages with his palm and faced the relatives one final time before he began. In a clear, crisp voice that belied his age, Mr. Fillmore first read a brief note to the family.
    “I do not want or expect my family to mourn my death. I am at peace with my heavenly Father, and I do not desire any family members to drape their houses with black bunting and wreaths or to wear the mourning clothes dictated by society. Those we love should be honored and loved while alive. Few of you honored or loved me while I was alive, and I don’t want the pretense of mourning now that I’m dead. You’ve all gathered to divide my money—not because you held me in high esteem; of that much I am certain. I have, however, placed a stipulation upon specific family members who will receive a