Chapter 7: The Twenty-Sixth
Nora filed the original will with the probate court the morning of December twenty-sixth.
By noon, Harrison's lead attorney — a man named Clifford Brandt, whose firm had represented Mercer House Hospitality for eleven years — had called Nora's office four times.
Clare was sitting at Eleanor's kitchen table when Nora called back with the update.
"Brandt is rattled," Nora said.
"He didn't know about the original filing.
I could hear it."
"Harrison didn't tell him?"
"Harrison apparently told him the Parker situation was resolved.
Brandt built the enforcement action on that assumption." A pause.
"He's going to need time to regroup.
Which means Harrison is going to push for a meeting."
"What kind of meeting?"
"The kind where he offers something to make this go away quietly." Nora's voice was measured.
"He's going to come to the table with a number."
"And if we don't want a number?"
"Then we proceed with the challenge, the enforcement action collapses, and Eleanor's inheritance claim goes through the court.
It will take longer.
It will be public."
Clare looked across the table at Eleanor, who was listening.
"Eleanor," Clare said.
"It's your call."
Eleanor wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.
"What does public mean, exactly?" she said.
"It means the emails become part of the record," Nora said through the phone.
"The recordings.
The timeline.
The pregnancy provision." A pause.
"It means Mercer House Hospitality has a difficult quarter, possibly a difficult year.
It means the board finds out.
It means the financial press covers it."
Eleanor was quiet for a moment.
"My father spent his whole life protecting that company," she said.
"He also spent the last years of his life protecting you," Clare said.
Eleanor looked at her.
"He did both," Eleanor said.
"He tried to do both." She set down her mug.
"I don't want to destroy the company.
I never wanted that.
I just wanted—" She stopped.
"To exist," Clare said.
"Yes." Eleanor's voice was very even.
"To exist.
To not be the secret.
To have what he left me."
"Then we go to the meeting," Nora said.
"We hear the offer.
And we make clear that the minimum acceptable outcome is full recognition of Eleanor's inheritance, dissolution of the NDA, and withdrawal of the enforcement action." A pause.
"And Clare — you'll need your own separate counsel for the marriage.
That's a different matter."
"I know," Clare said.
"Do you have someone?"
"Not yet."
"I can refer you.
Someone good." Nora's voice softened slightly.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm ready."
The meeting was set for December twenty-eighth, at a neutral location — a conference room at a hotel in Burlington that neither side had chosen, arranged by Gerald Foss as a courtesy.
Harrison arrived with Clifford Brandt and a second attorney Clare didn't recognize.
Clare arrived with Nora.
Eleanor arrived alone, and sat down without looking at Harrison.
He looked older than he had two days ago in the bookstore doorway.
The careful composure was still there, but something underneath it had shifted — the absolute certainty that had always made him the loudest presence in any room was quieter now.
Brandt opened.
"Our client recognizes that certain documents have come to light that complicate the existing settlement agreement," he said.
"In the interest of resolution, we're prepared to offer a revised financial package—"
"Stop," Nora said.
Brandt stopped.
"Miss Parker is not here to negotiate a payment," Nora said.
"She is here to receive what William Mercer left her.
An equal share of Mercer House Hospitality, held in trust, as specified in the original will." She placed a copy of the filing on the table.
"That is the starting point.
Not the destination."
Harrison leaned forward.
"Eleanor." He spoke directly to her, past the attorneys.
"I understand you're angry.
What I did was — I handled it badly.
I know that.
But the company—"
"Is also mine," Eleanor said.
He stopped.
"My father built it," she said.
"He built it while he was also, quietly, trying to be my father.
I have thirty-seven years of Christmases to account for, Harrison.
I'm not interested in a revised payment.
I'm interested in what the will says."
"If this goes public—"
"Then it goes public." Eleanor's voice didn't waver.
"I've been invisible for thirty-seven years.
I'm not afraid of being seen."
Harrison sat back.
He looked at Clare for the first time since they'd sat down.
"And you?" he said.
"What do you want?"
"That's a separate conversation," Nora said.
"I'm asking Clare."
Clare met his eyes.
"I want my daughter to know her grandfather's name," she said.
"And I want her to know her aunt's name.
And I want her to grow up in a family that doesn't build itself on secrets." She held his gaze.
"Whether you're part of that family is up to you.
But it's not up to your attorneys."
The room was very quiet.
Brandt and the second attorney exchanged a look.
Harrison looked at the copy of the will on the table.
He picked it up.
Read the highlighted section.
Set it back down.
"What are the terms?" he said.
Not to Brandt.
To Nora.
May you like
Nora opened her folder.
"Let's begin," she said.
