The attorney came in. Olivia had met him once before, just in passing. Aaron introduced him as Kevin Fairchild. He was a slim man, balding and out of place at the Horse Farm in a black business suit, white tailored shirt, striped tie and silver tiepin. But he was friendly, smiled easily and didn’t seem to care if he got dust or animal hair on his suit.
Mariah followed him in a moment later, sweeping her hair into a ponytail as she walked. She slid next to Olivia on the sofa and rolled her eyes. “Can you believe it? I overslept.”
“We’re all here, so we’ll get started,” Aaron said. “Mr. Fairchild, if you will? I have a feeling you’ll have to explain everything in layman’s terms. For me, certainly. I tried to fill out my own living will once and it confused the hell out of me!”
They all smiled and laughed, a little nervously, Olivia thought, although there was no reason for anyone to be nervous. Marcus’s will should hold no surprises.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, let’s begin. I’ll explain the legalese as I go along and feel free to ask me questions.”
Fairchild started to read, and Olivia’s mind wandered as he went through legal phrase after legal phrase. It was more or less what she’d expected, although she’d never been to the “reading” of a will before. She found herself looking around at all her coworkers, trying to grasp the fact that one of them might have killed Marcus—and might want to kill her.
Aaron leaned against the counter, looking perplexed as he listened. Drew Dicksen appeared to be deep in thought. Sydney Roux dangled his key chain and stared out the window; from where he stood, he could see their horses in the field. Homer, the big yellow dog Deputy Frank Vine had asked her about, was running after a bird.
Mariah seemed to be dozing off.
Mason was worrying a fingernail.
Sandra Cheever was trying to look as if she was paying attention, but her eyes kept glazing over.
Olivia started as she suddenly heard her name. Fairchild was silent, as were the others; they all studied her curiously.
“I don’t understand,” Sandra said. “Aaron gets the place, but not really. And after him, Olivia gets it, and if she doesn’t run it into the ground, she names her own successor?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Olivia murmured to Sandra, except that she was surprised herself and realized Sandra hadn’t meant to be offensive. She flashed her an apologetic smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Aaron said.
“Better not!” Olivia told him.
“The Horse Farm is in a trust,” Fairchild explained. “Aaron maintains the senior position and makes all the decisions. In the event of something happening to Aaron, Olivia will take over as senior operating official. Sometime in the next year, they’re to name the others who’ll follow in their places, and so on, down the line. It’s very straightforward. Marcus had this will written so he could ensure that the Horse Farm would continue. The nonprofit will not be dissolved, and someone will always be there to see that it goes on doing the work he intended.”
“What would happen in the event of a natural catastrophe, like a flood?” Mason asked. “We did have that major one a few years back!”
“Okay, if something catastrophic were to happen or if the Horse Farm fell into such severe financial hardship that it couldn’t be maintained and your salaries couldn’t be paid, the property would revert to the actual estate. The land would go up for sale, and any profits would be distributed to a number of other charities. Do you all understand?” Fairchild asked, looking around at them.
They all nodded.
“Now let me go on with the individual items he’s left you.”
Olivia listened but his words blurred. Marcus had left them things that were special to him. A saddle and a desk to Drew, collectible books to Mariah, a sterling tea set to Sandra and other personal property to others. She heard her name again and looked up.
“What?”
Once more, they were all staring at her. “Another house,” Sandra said. “Nice.”
“What?”
“He left you his house and the immediate property around it,” Aaron told her with a smile. “You can now search it to your heart’s content.”
“You can tear it to pieces, if you choose,” Fairchild said. “The house is yours, free and clear.”
“The house,” she murmured. It should have gone to Aaron. But Aaron didn’t seem disturbed, didn’t seem to care.
Was it an act?
You bastard, Marcus! Why didn’t you warn me?
“And, of course, Shiloh,” Fairchild added. “He felt that you and the horse shared something unique. You’re free to keep Shiloh at the facility or build a barn at the house you’ve just inherited or on your own property. There’s a lot of fine print here—but that’s what it means.”
She nodded, grateful for his explanation. She wasn’t sure she needed another house—but she did love the horse!
“What about Homer?” she asked. “Yellow Dog as we sometimes call him.”
“What about him?”