A Perfectly Good Family by Lionel Shriver Read Free Book Online Page B

pugnacious jutting of that chin, I recognized my father in court. ‘And what about the furniture? All those doo-dahs? Is the ACLU going to want my blender?’
“Less your mom was collecting antiques—’
‘Only the cheese,’ I intruded.
‘No art works?’ he asked me.
‘If that organization wants my fifth-grade clay elephant, they can have it.’
‘Most household contents don’t assess at more than a few thousand bucks,’ Hugh assured us. ‘On this point I bet we could convince the ACLU to ease up. It is, after all, a darned gracious bequest. And I bet a lot of your folks’ what-all has sentimental value.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ said Mordecai.
‘But they won’t forget the house?’ Truman pleaded.
‘Not a snowball’s chance. Too much do-re-mi. Oh, they’ll be nice about it—at first. But those fundraising boys are hungry. That it’s for a good cause only makes them more aggressive. They’re not ashamed of themselves. Not that shame usually holds anybody back anyways…’
‘Is there no way to contest this?’ Truman’s nostrils were flaring.
‘Contest it!’ Mordecai cried. ‘Come on, it’s got Mother and Father written all over it! Sanctimonious holier-than-thou liberal bullshit!’
‘Father wanted to get to heaven,’ I mumbled.
‘Yeah, well,’ said Mordecai, pursing his lips. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t give his place up there to a black handicapped dyke instead.’
Hugh was leaning back watching the show, and looked weary. Back when we had that beer it had been awkward at first, and I blurted that being an estate lawyer must be awfully dull. I guess that wasn’t a nice thing to say about someone’s profession, but I’d been thinking about my father’s calling, crusading against racism, in comparison. Hugh had said no you’d be surprised. Estate law’s sometimes more interesting than you’d like. You see a lot of—He’d cut himself short and said, well, it’s hard not to get cynical about people.
Hugh sighed. ‘With the ACLU, you got two choices,’ he announced when we’d finished bickering. ‘You can all chip in and buy out the organization’s share as a family—’ He scanned us sceptically, as if regarding our trio as a cohesive collective unit were risible—‘or you can sell.’
‘We’re not selling,’ Truman declared.
‘That may be something you have to decide with your brother and sister.’
‘I live there!’
‘For the time being, kid.’ Mordecai played with an alligator clip that fixed his braid and worked the jaws up and down.
‘Should you retain the property with the non-profit paid off, then you three could decide how or whether to dispense with the real estate at your leisure.’
‘The last thing some of us need,’ said Mordecai, cutting his eyes towards Truman, ‘is more leisure.’
‘What if two of us have some feeling for the house we grew up in,’ Truman hypothesized, ‘but all the other guy cares about is his filthy lucre?’
‘If you can raise the funds, two of you buying out the third is one option—’
‘Hold on here,’ Mordecai railroaded. ‘You’re saying with the bastions of social justice out of the picture our jolly threesome can blather for months if not years about what happens to Mommy and Daddy’s $380,000 ramshackle mansion—?’
‘It’s not ramshackle!’ said Truman.
‘And meanwhile little True here makes up his bed in my house every morning and waters the petunias and grows old. Isn’t there any way to push this programme?’
‘You’re any of you within your rights,’ said Hugh, ‘to file suit for partition.’
‘So that what,’ I said hopefully, ‘the house is divided up and we each get a floor?’
‘Physical partition is recommended once in a blue moon, but unlikely in your case. I dare say the court would regard awarding one floor each to grown siblings as a re-enactment of the Civil War. No, ordinarily the court demands the property be put up for auction. Any of you current part-owners would be free to