"Did anyone get it?" Elizabeth asked.
"No," Philroy said. His voice had a dryer, toady quality now as opposed to a wet, froggy one. John gave Violet an I told you so glance. "This means the prize of one thousand dollars will go to the hospital for Sick Children."
"All this work for a thousand dollars?" Elsa pouted.
"Better than all this work for five hundred," Rosie said.
"Now, now," Philroy said, squeezing honey into his tea.
"Now what?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.
He sighed, but good naturedly. "Now for the rest of the will."
"Finally!" Paul said, reaching for the papers.
"Not a chance," Philroy said hoarsely. He opened his folder, took a great deal of time wetting his fingers and re-organizing pages. When at last he was ready he began, "To my dearest –"
"Speak up! Speak up!"
"To my dearest when removed sister-in-law, Edie Finch, I leave this cottage and all of its contents. I know my brother, Maurice, wanted nothing but your comfort and happiness while he was alive. I hope this place will fulfill his wishes."
"My comfort, all right," Edie sniffed wretchedly, dabbing away a tear. "He wanted it all on the number seven."
"To my niece, Vera Greer, who always enjoyed an Orange Julius, I leave to you and your husband, Rolph, the condo in Boynton Beach. There have been problems with sharks along the coast lately, but something tells me their days are numbered.
"To my nephew, Thomas Finch, I'd like to say the fact that you never could remember the end of any joke you started made me laugh harder than most punch lines could. To you I leave my apartment in the city. Take your wife, Joan, please! Ba-da-dah!
"To Elsa Greer, because you were always such a headstrong girl, I give you twenty thousand dollars to do with as you wish. To James Greer, because you're the solid sort, I thought you might prefer the equal value in some shares of stock I have in various companies including a macadamia farm in Mauna Loa.
"To the youngest whom I barely knew, Elizabeth Greer, and Paul and Marcia Finch, I leave you each the sum of twelve thousand dollars which may be spent solely on rent, tuition or travel. You're welcome.
"As for John Finch..." Philroy stopped reading and handed John an envelope. John looked surprised as he examined it.
"What is it?" Elizabeth demanded excitedly.
"Aren't we here to be witnesses?" Elsa asked.
"You witnessed me give him the envelope. What's in it has nothing more to do with any of you."
John shrugged and twisted a finger under the flap making a little hole in the envelope's corner.
"To my dear, sweet, Violet March, my Pookie, my Opossum..." John looked up from his tearing to laugh at Violet who was gawking at Philroy in disbelief. The lawyer exhaled and continued. "...my Honeylamb, my Gingersnap, why you insisted on all of these aliases is a mystery. To me, you were simply my friend. However, if either one of us had at any time found the other remotely attractive I'm sure I would have died a lot sooner. For you, I've chosen a token of my affection and gratitude: an heirloom of sorts. Philroy will have it sent to you. I hope it will bring you much happiness.
"And to you, Philroy Palm, you chop-licker you, take five thousand dollars on top of your usual ransom and sue someone for fun.
"Goodnight, dear family. That's all I wrote. Contest any of this and the lawyer gets it all."
YOU ARE READING
Worth
ChickLitWhen an eccentric old neighbour dies and names Violet March in his will, she is even more surprised than his estranged and spoiled family. To make matters stranger, she learns that all must attend a pretend murder-mystery weekend for any to claim a...
