The Philanthropist's Danse by Paul Wornham Read Free Book Online Page B

more good.
    As more guests arrived, the dining room filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinks of heavy cutlery on fine china. The guests had spread out over the available tables. Philip and Junior sat together but had nothing to say to each other while Larry MacLean and Freddie Hagood enjoyed a quiet conversation across the room.
    Only Bethany was absent when William walked to the center of the room. “Good morning, we’ll start promptly at nine in the conference room, I’ll see you shortly.” He left to collect his laptop. He was ready, even if his guests looked far from it.

Chapter Six
    W illiam Bird entered the conference room and was surprised to see Bethany already waiting. She looks like hell , he thought, as he set up his workspace. His laptop stayed closed, it was only needed to record the group’s votes. Everything else was on note cards or committed to memory.
    Once he was ready, he looked at Bethany who looked back through red-rimmed eyes. “How are you, Beth?” She said nothing. Her eyes left his and returned to contemplate the table in front of her. “Do you want me to get you a coffee, or something to eat?” She made no indication of having heard him, so he let it go.
    He walked to the window and waited for the others. Over three feet of snow had fallen overnight, but the groundskeepers had cleared the drive for the delivery truck that brought the day’s fresh supplies, mail and newspapers. The drive was already covered again, the storm was relentless. It was going to be a long day for everyone, whether they were in the conference room or working at keeping its occupants comfortable.
    He heard others arrive and noticed how their conversations dried up when they saw Bethany. Camille Jolivet saw her half-sister’s disheveled grief with a wicked satisfaction. The guests found their places without needing nameplates to guide them, they all remembered their places. Jeremy’s staff brought fresh coffee and stoked the fire, adding a couple of huge logs that would take hours to burn.
    William stood behind his chair, his hands on the high back and waited for the group to settle. “Good Morning and thank you for being on time,” he realized he sounded formal but continued, hoping the occasion might benefit from a little formality. “Let me recap the purpose of this meeting so there can be no misunderstanding your purpose.”
    No-one interrupted him today, even Junior just listened. “Mr. Thurwell has chosen you to share his fortune. There is no Will other than his instructions for the week. The decisions you make will be respected as Mr. Thurwell’s last wishes.” He paused and looked at Junior and Philip. “In the event of any legal contest to these arrangements, all disbursements will be voided, and the entire fortune will be seized and donated to the Thurwell Foundation.”
    Junior’s eyes flashed in anger. William could tell the thought of contesting the process had already occurred to the eldest son. He scowled at the lawyer but said nothing. Bird was a pawn, his father had set up this humiliation, but for what purpose Junior had no idea.
    Bird continued, relieved that Junior held his tongue. “As I told you last night, you have little time to complete your task. At midnight tonight, the fortune will be reduced by twenty percent. That penalty will be repeated each midnight until you reach a decision or there is no fortune left for you to share. The money you forfeit goes to the Thurwell Foundation.”
    He looked around the table where the guests exchanged glances that might have carried meaning, or not. “My role is to ensure Mr. Thurwell’s last instructions are respected and to record the decisions you make. I can make no recommendations, nor can I change the terms of this gathering. If you successfully agree a person’s share, that person may be excused from further deliberations but must remain at the mansion until all business is concluded. If you prefer to take no part