This novel will be published in serial form, a chapter or two per week.  any comments, criticisms etc. are welcome.  Enjoy

A King’s Trust

 

Trust—“A right of property, real or personal, held by one party for the benefit of the other.”

            Black’s Law Dictionary

 

Trust—“an assured reliance on the character, ability, strength or truth of someone or something, one in which confidence is placed.”

            Webster’s Dictionary

 

 

Chapter One

 

The lawyer sat behind the steering wheel of his bright yellow Cadillac inspecting his hands. He liked how his nails looked.   He felt more elegant after his manicure.

 

And the feeling was enhanced when he was dressed in a new suit, a nice shirt, with cufflinks of course, and a tie his wife selected each morning.  The selection was inevitably accompanied with her lecture on acceptable taste.  The ensemble of a lawyer’s apparel must be well thought out she told him. His raiment must ever be a subtle combination of style and color to match his, as she delicately put it, “burgeoning physicality.”  The one she picked for today she might say was subdued but distinctive in color and pattern.  Pink and paisley would not have been his first choice, but with the light grey suit, he had to admit, it worked.

 

He flexed his fingers and checked his cuticles once again.  It was time.

 

Swinging out of the car, he checked the handle to make sure it was locked and walked across the parking lot.  He entered through the back door of his single-story office building.  It had once been a house. Back when there was a lot less traffic on main street.

 

As he walked down the hallway, he carried himself with a bit of grace.  Despite the tiny tinny voice on his scale announcing each morning that his weight continued to advance toward the three fifty mark, he knew in his soul he was an athlete.  Hadn’t Babe Ruth been big like him?  Hadn’t Charles Barkley?  Hefty men can still perform on the athletic field.  Or basketball court.  Or in courts of law for that matter.  And he could do both.

 

On the rare occasion he was called upon to actually litigate a case, he moved easily around the courtroom. He was a good sport and took the frequent fat shaming from his legal colleagues with humor and managed to return a few good-natured digs of his own.  He knew he was popular with the denizens of the legal community at the courthouse and, when he showed up, he usually got what he wanted.

 

Most of his court appearances were at the downtown courthouse where they calendared the civil cases.  He avoided criminal law.  Trusts and wills were his specialty.   He knew from experience, it was always better to avoid court.  Time in court cost money.  The billings, double billings especially, were much simpler when there was no record of his actual physical location. Still, all in all, he enjoyed the few times he ventured downtown and made an actual appearance on behalf of a client.

 

What he wanted this morning was for it to be noon.  Come noon the people in his waiting room would be gone. The provisions of this particular will and trust would be set.  And he could turn the entire matter over to his paralegal to draft the actual legal documents.  He could bill his time right over the top of hers though by then he would have gone on to other matters. Other billings.  Or better yet be at lunch.

 

The important thing was to just keep the meter running.  Time was money.  His time was expensive and the meter on his time clock never quit ticking.  Plus, he would leave the administrative matters to his secretary who would bill for three times what he paid her on top of the time he billed for the paralegal.  And most importantly he could go to lunch and the clock would keep ticking and the billable hours would continue to accumulate.

 

But noon was still two hours away, the entire King family was in the lobby and it was time to get to work.  He sat down at his desk and punched the red button on his phone.  It lit up simultaneously at the receptionist station and his personal secretaries’ desk as well as in the library where his paralegal did most of her work. The receptionist would wait for the secretary to approach the door to the inner waiting area and then she would push the button releasing the security lock and announce to those gathered that “Mr. Easley will see you now.”

 

As the inner door opened the secretary would be standing there smiling and turn to lead them down the corridor with its framed pictures featuring the “Nick Easley,

Attorney at Law” posing with friends, family and a judge or two.  In their robes, of course. As the secretary strolled down the hallway, her hips would slightly sway.  She knew perfectly well the effect it would have on those following behind her. There was nothing slatternly about her walk, but it exhibited just enough confident eroticism to be interesting in an age when sex in the workplace was scandalous behavior from a previous era.

 

The paralegal meanwhile would be making her way to the lawyer’s office.  Her chair had been pre-positioned to the left side and slightly behind the lawyer’s expansive shined and completely clean desk.  She would take notes and figure out what needed to be done.  The lawyer would never put pen to legal pad.  To do so, he felt, was inelegant.  And it just might communicate a lack of intellectual control.

 

The lawyer rested his folded hands on his considerable stomach as his paralegal walked in front of his desk and went to stand by her chair. He watched her as she passed and smiled not about her looks or her body, (not much to notice there anyway) but in satisfaction about how efficiently his office ran and how his staff knew their roles and what to do without being told.

 

He heard the footsteps and the bustle of the group following his secretary to his office.  A middle age woman, his secretary was “old school.” She got and kept her job in the early years the old fashion way.  By spending quality time on the couch in his office with the door locked.  Now, after all this time, she knew more about some aspects of his business than he did.  And he didn’t bother her for favors anymore.  He didn’t dare.   One day she told him in no uncertain terms, she didn’t like it, had never liked it and let him know that if he ever brought it up again, she would use her knowledge of how he ran his business, including his billing practices, to ruin him.  But that aside, she said they could continue in business together and both would profit.  From that day forward, she became more a business associate than a secretary. And he paid her well.  She was, he came to realize, worth every penny.

 

She walked in and he registered the look in her eyes.  “Watch out”, the look said.  She then stood aside as each person in single file entered the office.  Once all seven were there and looking for a place to sit down, she left and closed the door behind her.  The lawyer made no effort to find chairs for everyone. He knew at least one, maybe two, would have to stand.  That was okay with him. It would speed the meeting.

 

His main client, Lenny King, was a business executive, an assertive man, and entitled man and he automatically took one of the two luxurious leather client chairs right in front of the attorney’s desk.  The lawyer watched with interest to see if one of the three children or perhaps one of the business partners would take the other chair.  There was a third client chair back along the wall. And, of course, there was the couch.

 

The couch could accommodate three people if they didn’t mind sinking into its super soft confines and having their knees touching. It was especially challenging for women in dresses. It was so low it elevated their knees above their stomachs.  It was a position in which the lawyer liked to place women.  Awkward and vulnerable, trying to keep their dress down, feeling trapped.  Though with the regrettable prevalence of pants suits nowadays some of the more interesting views he had been privy to in the past were now rare.  Neither of the two women was wearing a skirt.  A disappointment to the lawyer, which passed quickly. He hadn’t expected anything different.  This was business after all.

 

It was his client’s daughter, Nadine, who took the other chair in front of the lawyer. He was surprised. She pulled the heavy chair over even closer to his client.  He felt a momentary twinge of protectionism.  Lenny King was a good client, in fact had been his client for the last twenty-five years.  He knew the billings from just this one client had help pay for his two oldest children to attend the very expensive private colleges they had chosen.

 

That said, his client could be an ass.  He was frequently too demanding.  He could also be too enamored of his own judgment on all things, political, or otherwise.  He thought he knew best on many things that were beyond his field of expertise, even the law, but no matter.  It meant he was frequently in legal straits, needed the assistance of the lawyer and, best of all, he paid his bills religiously on time.  And the sums on the billings oftentimes were ridiculously high.

 

He was a good client even if didn’t always follow his lawyer’s good advice.  He was usually a good sport about it when the lawyer quietly mentioned that the latest legal difficulty could have been avoided had he listened to the lawyer’s counsel.  But no matter, here he was today to surrender his business concerns, move into retirement and enjoy the fruits of his labors. The lawyer had advised against this too, at least as to how he proposed to dispose of his responsibilities but was overruled by the client.  Not an unusual occurrence in their relationship.

 

The lawyer waited a moment for the group to settle into their places.  One was left standing. The youngest of King’s three children. Dylan.  He was the slow one.  There had been some mention of autism, but the lawyer admittedly knew little about the condition and couldn’t render an opinion one way or the other.  The boy was truly a nice kid.  Well, not kid.  He was twenty-eight now.  But he was still shy and awkward.  He always seemed to be studying his surroundings rather than the people with him or what they were saying.  And his answers to questions could be disarmingly honest. He could say something that from others would be considered an insult, but there never seemed to be any malice in what he said.  Consequently, his responses though frequently inappropriate were usually overlooked.

 

The two business partners, Crabtree and Willets, sat on the couch together, but at opposite ends. Crabtree was a female in her late fifties. She was sharply dressed.  Her hair was immaculately styled if too stiff. Every hair was in place.  It wasn’t natural.  Her partner’s appearance didn’t match her standards.  The contrast made Willets look sloppy.  The lawyer had known him for years too.  He was smart and loyal and now wealthy, but he would never change.  It didn’t matter how expensive or finely tailored his suits were they always looked like he had slept in them. His lap invariably had crumbs; his tie stains from his last meal.

 

The second son, Regan, sat in the chair along the wall.  He had a perpetual sneer on his face.  It had been there since he was five years old.  It perfectly reflected his personality.  He was bright for sure, but he had inherited the qualities from his father that could make him an ass without the good-natured self-abnegation that made the Father’s transgressions forgivable.  The son didn’t possess the grace to admit he could overdo it once in a while, that he did indeed make mistakes and those mistakes were sometimes real doozies.

 

The lawyer cleared his throat.

 

“Well, welcome, everyone. Mr. Lenny King, your family and partners.  Once again please accept my condolences on the loss of Mrs. King.  She was a truly great lady.”

 

Mr. King, his two sons and business partners nodded their heads in unison, but not the daughter, Nadine. She stared straight ahead at the lawyer, obviously waiting for him to get past the preliminaries.

 

“Mr. King, as I’m sure you have been informed, has decided to retire.  He and I have discussed the matter extensively and he has made his wishes known to me.  I have drawn up some preliminary paperwork to insure the legalities are addressed and this meeting today is to discuss those matters.  It is Mr. King’s desire to be transparent and address your questions and concerns at this time. You are the interested parties and have the most to be concerned about. Once this meeting has concluded and it is clear what Mr. King’s desires are in these matters, then a final set of documents will be drawn up for his signature.  And his intent will be memorialized.”

 

Mr. King spoke up for the first time.  “Yes.” He turned slightly so all those behind him would feel they were part of the conversation.  Interestingly to the lawyer, this meant his back was half turned to the daughter.

 

“You are my family, my partners, and my best friends.  I know each of you have concerns, but I want you to know how all this is slated to happen. And I want you to know it all right here and right now.  You are my loved ones and my dear friends and my business partners.  Yes, especially my partners.  We have built a very successful business together, hell, an empire really, and while I will be gradually withdrawing from further worries and stress, I wanted to insure everyone, including you, are well taken care of.  You are all family or like family to me anyway.”

 

There was a silent moment. The lawyer felt all of this was coming across as being contrived.  It made the silence awkward.

 

“Would you like me to explain the provisions of the Trust and Will now?”  He directed his question at Mr. King.

 

Without turning back to face the lawyer, the client replied, “Well, yes, that would be fine, but let me say this.  I know it’s not something I often say.  I think you know its not easy for me to say.  But, well, here it is: I love you all.  And if I could I would continue as President of the company and, well, all of us, in our present roles, forever, but with the loss of my Edna, I have lost that old drive and want to rest a bit, enjoy the days left which God allows me to have.  Each of you will be taken care of for sure.  I will reserve some small share of control over my wealth and business interests for security sake.  This lawyer here, the good Mr. Easley, by the way, insisted upon these provisions, but they are nothing really.   My trust in each of you is absolute.  You will all equally share in the wealth and power of my former position.  Powers of attorney over various aspects of my business as well as my wealth, will be delivered concurrently with the implementation and execution of these documents, uh, plans and I think you will see reflected my generosity of spirit and how much I hold you all in such high regard.”

 

The lawyer unfolded his hands and rolled his chair forward to begin his dissertation when the daughter spoke up.

 

“That’s all well and good, Father, but how do we know these documents drafted by this lawyer will protect all you have built.  Or us. We need significant authority here if we are to be effective in keeping the business going and I know how you value effectiveness.  Lord knows we’ve heard enough lectures about it,” she added with a sardonic smile.

 

She looked back at the two partners as if for support. They were obviously surprised by her assertions and her aggressiveness.

 

She continued, “I recommend we have an independent law firm look over these documents.  And accountants too, preferably C.P.A.s.  No offense to Mr. Easley, but, you know, like you would say, just for security sake.”

 

The lawyer was starting to feel like the noon hour was getting farther away and would not be bringing him the usual welcome relief of a sumptuous mid-day meal after all.

 

The father had turned toward his daughter as she spoke.  The lawyer was the only one who could see how he smiled indulgently as the lawyer was sure he had been smiling at his children his entire life.  But, the lawyer thought, his children are no longer babes in the woods, especially this one.

 

The Father said, “That is why we are having this meeting.    No.  We won’t be having any other lawyers at the table.  And no C.P.A.s either.  I don’t have to do any of this, you know.  As Mr. Easley, I’m sure, will tell you.  It is in the spirit of my love for you and, frankly, my generosity that you are here at all.”

 

The daughter’s posture closed up.  She crossed her legs away from her father.  She set her mouth.  She wasn’t satisfied.  But she recognized she was powerless to change her father’s course. And it would be imprudent to push the matter.  The father reached over and put his hand on her arm.

 

“Nadine, you know I have always favored you.  Why would you think this,” and his arms gestured wide around the law office, “would be any different?”

 

The lawyer watched the other two kids as Mr. King counseled with his daughter.

 

The one boy, Dylan, the innocent one, smiled.  But, of course, he was always smiling.  The other boy, Regan, sneered, but that was also no change.

 

The lawyer looked at the partners. The man was nodding his head.  Willits.  He had been a childhood friend of Mr. King.  He had been with him since the beginning.  Made a lot of money.  But the relationships, the business, was more than that to him.  He often joined the lawyer and Mr. King on the hunting and fishing trips they shared.  The woman, Crabtee, was staring straight ahead. She had been with the business for a little over two decades.  A relatively short time in the life of King’s business empire.  She wasn’t happy.  She was a disciplined one, however, and was keeping quiet.  For now.

 

“So, shall we begin?” the lawyer asked.  There was no answer.

 

He continued on anyway.  “Ms. Bright here, my paralegal, will now go over the provisions I have drafted.”

 

He hadn’t drafted a word. In fact, as of that moment, he didn’t really know what the provisions actually said.  He had simply passed on to his paralegal the general instructions he had gleaned from his discussions with Mr. King.

 

He smiled in satisfaction again. He was confident in his operation and in his staff.  The billing on this was going to be extra good.  His secretary would make sure it was.  She knew this might be one of his last unaudited billing related to this family and this business.  Thinking of that gave the lawyer an idea about a rider he would discuss with his paralegal.  She would write it and he would show her where to place it for the minimum exposure and maximum effect.  With a little luck it would never even be noticed unless he needed to invoke it someday. He worried the daughter might spot it and ask its meaning or, worse, have another lawyer secretly answer her questions.  He would need to be extra cautious with this Nadine.

 

His mind drifted to lunch. Something at the Prestige would be good, the best restaurant in town.  Something rich and tasty.  Something expensive.