Chapter 7

I returned to my chair and took a seat.

Arthur sat on the sofa, leaning forward as he stared at the paper in the attorney's hand.

My sister-in-law sat beside him, her face livid.

Beatrice clutched a tissue so tightly her knuckles turned white.

The attorney laid the document flat on the table.

"The fourth page was handwritten by Mr. Richard Montgomery."

He began to read.

"'I know you are waiting for this will.'"

"'Arthur is waiting for the house. Beatrice is waiting for the savings.'"

"'You think I don't know.'"

"'But I know everything.'"

A heavy silence fell over the living room.

The attorney continued.

"'Arthur. In the three years since my stroke, you visited four times."

"'The first time was when I was hospitalized."

"'The second time was during Christmas; you stayed for a day and a half."

"'The third time was my seventieth birthday, and you brought a cake."

"'The fourth time, you won't be visiting, because this time it's my funeral.'"

Arthur's face flushed deep red before draining completely of color.

"'You transferred two thousand dollars every month. Three years, seventy-two thousand. You thought that was enough.'"

"'What you didn't know is this: every time you called and said, \"Pops, take care of your health,\" I had Elias help me scroll through your PhotoStream after we hung up.'"

"'You were playing golf in The Bahamas. You were dining at Epicurean-starred restaurants in Paris. You bought a new car in the Silicon Corridor.'"

"'How much was that car? Your wife posted it on PhotoStream. Four hundred and eighty thousand.'"

"'Four hundred and eighty thousand is enough to hire a full-time caregiver for six years.'"

Arthur's hands were trembling.

"Pops..."

The attorney didn't stop.

"'Beatrice. You visited five times. Every time you came, the first thing you did was take a selfie with me.'"

Beatrice's tissue fluttered to the floor.

"'I read all the posts you made on PhotoStream. Elias read them to me.'"

"'“Dearest Pops”—you didn't even know what medication I was taking.'"

"'“Always by your side”—the longest you ever stayed was four hours.'"

"'“Miss you so much”—you never even said goodbye when you left.'"

"'You gave Elias two thousand.'"

"'Two thousand.'"

"'To take care of me, Elias changed positions and gave up his promotion. His monthly salary is eight thousand five hundred. In three years, he lost out on three hundred and six thousand.'"

"'You gave him two thousand.'"

Beatrice lowered her head.

Her shoulders were shaking.

This time, the trembling was real.

Great-Aunt Clara set down the salted peanuts she had been holding.

Uncle Albert slowly lowered his teacup.

The room remained dead silent.

The attorney flipped to the next page of the document.

"Next is the second half of page four."

He glanced over at me.

"It is also the most important part."