The Gate House   ::   Demille Nelson

Finally, she asked me, “What should I do, John?”

Well, if you have to ask, Susan, you already know the answer.

“John?”

I took a deep breath and said, “What you have to do is get a lawyer-”

“Why? You are a lawyer-”

“Listen to me. You need to make sure that this sort of thing does not happen again. Your father needs to set up a trust fund for you, and new trusts for the children that will basically transfer to all three of you the portion of his estate that you and the children would receive as an inheritance. And this trust fund needs to be set up so that you and the children will receive annual distributions, free from his control, and his manipulation, and you need to pick the fund trustee, and it will not be Peter. Do you understand?”

“I… why would he do that?”

“Well, for a consideration on your part. In other words, in exchange for something he wants from you.”

“What…? Oh…”

“You and the children need legal assurances that he can’t control your lives with his money, and in return you – and I – give him what he wants – in writing.”

“John. No…”

“Yes.”

She looked at me and I turned toward her and our eyes met. She kept staring at me, then tears ran down her cheeks.

In as firm a voice as I was able to muster, I said to her, “This is the only way, Susan, that we – you and I together – can protect the children, and protect your future as well.”

She looked away from me and wiped her eyes with her hands.

To bring this home, I stood and said, “Go back in there and tell him I am prepared to return to London – without his million dollars – but not until I have spoken to him about what he has to do for you, Edward, and Carolyn before I leave.” I assured her, “He’ll understand.”

She remained seated, still shaking her head, then she said, “The children say they don’t care…”

“They don’t. But we do.” I asked her, “Do you want Peter to be the sole beneficiary of the Stanhope fortune?”

She didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to.

I took her hand and lifted her to her feet. I suggested, “Go in the kitchen or someplace, get yourself composed, get angry, then go in there and tell him what the deal is.”

She didn’t respond.

I continued, “If he storms out, then you’re free of him and his money. But if he wants to speak to me, then we’ll work out an arrangement that loosens his grip on the money bag.