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The Gate House :: Demille Nelson
Страница: 456 из 490And I certainly wasn’t going to ask him to reconsider his demands, or try to soften his heart. So the only thing I could do now that would be positive and productive would be to go out there and smack his head against the steering wheel until the airbag popped. And I would have if he was younger.
And on top of all this, Anthony Bellarosa was still out there, though after tomorrow, when Susan and I were gone – in opposite directions – that problem would be on hold, and with luck, resolved.
I stared at William, who’d gotten in the car and started it, probably listening to the radio. I wondered how he and Charlotte were going to react when they heard about Salvatore D’Alessio’s murder, and Anthony Bellarosa being the prime suspect, and discovered that their daughter was again in the news. Well, I’m sure they’d insist that she return to Hilton Head immediately. I realized that neither one of us was coming back here to live.
I sliced open the envelope, pulled out four folded sheets of plain white stationery, and glanced at Ethel’s neat but crabbed handwriting. I read:
Dear Mr. Sutter,
I write this letter to you from what I believe is my death bed, and I write in anticipation of your return from London to settle the affairs of my estate. This letter will be given to you at the time of my death by my daughter, Elizabeth Corbet, on the condition that you do, in fact, return from London for that purpose, and, further, that you and I have spoken, in person, upon your return.
Well, I thought, I’d met both conditions – I flew in from London, and I visited her in hospice. And she met the final condition. She died.
The only certainty there was that she was going to die; my trip to New York had not been so definite. In retrospect, I should have stayed in London and saved everyone a lot of trouble and sorrow.
I watched William Stanhope awhile, trying to decide if I should just go out there and tell him, calmly but firmly, that he was not to screw around with his grandchildren’s trust funds or inheritance. I mean, what was he going to do if I walked toward the car? Drive off to the airport and leave his wife here?
I looked back at Ethel’s letter to me and read:
I am tired and not feeling well as I write this, so I will get right to my purpose. I know that you and your father-in-law have never cared for each other, and I know, too, that this state of affairs had caused your former wife much grief, and caused trouble between you and her, and I believe, too, that the Stanhopes influenced Mrs. Sutter in her decision to sell her house and join them in Hilton Head.
And on top of all this, Anthony Bellarosa was still out there, though after tomorrow, when Susan and I were gone – in opposite directions – that problem would be on hold, and with luck, resolved.
I stared at William, who’d gotten in the car and started it, probably listening to the radio. I wondered how he and Charlotte were going to react when they heard about Salvatore D’Alessio’s murder, and Anthony Bellarosa being the prime suspect, and discovered that their daughter was again in the news. Well, I’m sure they’d insist that she return to Hilton Head immediately. I realized that neither one of us was coming back here to live.
I sliced open the envelope, pulled out four folded sheets of plain white stationery, and glanced at Ethel’s neat but crabbed handwriting. I read:
Dear Mr. Sutter,
I write this letter to you from what I believe is my death bed, and I write in anticipation of your return from London to settle the affairs of my estate. This letter will be given to you at the time of my death by my daughter, Elizabeth Corbet, on the condition that you do, in fact, return from London for that purpose, and, further, that you and I have spoken, in person, upon your return.
Well, I thought, I’d met both conditions – I flew in from London, and I visited her in hospice. And she met the final condition. She died.
The only certainty there was that she was going to die; my trip to New York had not been so definite. In retrospect, I should have stayed in London and saved everyone a lot of trouble and sorrow.
I watched William Stanhope awhile, trying to decide if I should just go out there and tell him, calmly but firmly, that he was not to screw around with his grandchildren’s trust funds or inheritance. I mean, what was he going to do if I walked toward the car? Drive off to the airport and leave his wife here?
I looked back at Ethel’s letter to me and read:
I am tired and not feeling well as I write this, so I will get right to my purpose. I know that you and your father-in-law have never cared for each other, and I know, too, that this state of affairs had caused your former wife much grief, and caused trouble between you and her, and I believe, too, that the Stanhopes influenced Mrs. Sutter in her decision to sell her house and join them in Hilton Head.