And perhaps this made Loulou more comfortable with the money. Let her allow herself to take, to spend. Not that she’d made this calculation consciously. And Ethan hadn’t made the money either, really. From what Nell understood, it all came from Israel. Ethan attended board meetings and collected checks and that was the extent of his involvement with Israel Quincy’s iron ore concern. It was all just Israel Quincy’s money floating through the family, wasn’t it?
“And this,” her father says, flipping up the necklace to inspect it. It’s been a long time since she’s been this close to her father apart from a quick welcoming hug. He smells of bourbon and sharp citrus—probably Italian cologne. Since when did her father wear cologne? She imagines it’s a gift from his hypothetical lady-friend. “You know Ambrose traveled the world. Went to India, I’m sure of it.”
“So?” Nell says, stepping back so the necklace is forced to drop.
“So nothing. But I never saw Old Lou wear this.” Her father is shaking his head. “Had a diamond stashed on her at all times, the bigger the better. She would have sported that thing like nobody’s business. It had been ruined for her, I’m sure of it. That’s the only reason she wouldn’t show it off.” He’s still staring at it and then says, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s the only reason she’d give it to you.”
Her aunt-grandmother-whatever, who couldn’t stand her mother and was going crazy at the end of her life, left a gaudy piece of costume jewelry to Nell. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not even unexpected. Yet standing here in the midst of everything that is almost hers, the large gifts going off to her cousins, it makes her eyes water a little.
“It’s a serious piece, all right.” Her father knows his way around jewelry. Nell has never cared until now. “You should get it out of here and get it appraised right away.”
“I thought it might be costume.”
“Not costume.” He steps closer with his hands behind his back, examining it. “I’m telling you.” He straightens and looks her in the eye. “You should take it to the museum and have someone look at it. You’ll need to protect it.”
The door squeaks open, and the sound of the O’Jays fills the room.
“Not to alarm you, but you guys probably want to come out for this,” Emerson says.
The living room is deserted, as if everyone has taken cover. Pansy is in the front hall trying, with manic insistence, to give away flower arrangements to fleeing guests. It’s then they hear the shouting.
Baldwin and Louis Morrell are in the library, silhouetted in the dim lighting.
“I understand you’re with a fancy firm.” Baldwin’s face is red. “But if you can’t handle this . . . I’ve been advised.” His voice rises into an uncharacteristic screech. “I have my own advisors!”
“Baldwin,” Louis says in a professional voice. Even from across the room, Nell can spot the clench in his jaw. “Why don’t we just calm down?”
In the history of the world has anyone ever calmed down when spoken to like that? Rookie move, Nell thinks.
And it enflames her uncle, who looks like he’s ramping up for a tell-off. It’s then Nell’s father steps forward, giving Louis a complete up-and-down inspection before turning to Baldwin and saying, “Why don’t we go out for a little air? I haven’t been down to the pond in ages.” Baldwin looks startled and then stalls, but her father leans in confidentially. “Everyone can hear you.”
Her father steps out on the terrace. When Baldwin follows silently and immediately, Nell’s reminded that they’ve known each other since before she was born. She can hear her father’s soothing tones asking after the dilapidated landscaping, watches as he hands Baldwin his cigarette pack unasked, which Baldwin surprisingly accepts, and then they are out of sight.
“That your dad?” Louis asks, skimming a hand over his bare head.
“He is. What was that about?”
“Baldwin’s pretty sauced. He was just blowing off steam.” Louis is probably used to being an unwitting target, being constantly immersed in dicey family scenarios. But having someone push that much energy at you has to be unnerving, even if it isn’t about you. Especially if it’s not.
“What was he in a state about?”
Louis puffs out his cheeks and blows. “You, actually.”
“Me?”
He sits down on the sagging chenille sofa. “You gave away some stuff.”
“I thought I could do that.”
“Technically, it’s a little early to start giving out the miscellany. That said, people do it all the time.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry. It was just a bunch of junk,” she says, sinking down next to him, keeping a good three feet between them.
“That comment’s not going to calm down your uncle any.”
The squishy sofa is already doing a number on her back. It’s really made for reclining. The room’s lined in leather-bound books by the yard, burgundy and acid green volumes that are essentially wallpaper. Recent paperback thrillers are wedged next to a complete set of Wilkie Collins and a chunk of Balzac in translation foxed with mold. The dim light makes her feel drowsy. The adrenaline of the day has faded away, leaving exhaustion. A new flat-screen TV sits on an ancient card table, a thick black cord snaking out of the side and disappearing into a hole drilled straight into the middle of one of the wide planks in the floor. She remembers coming down on summer mornings and lying with Emerson and Pansy on the stiff throw rugs, watching staticky cartoons on the old TV propped on the same card table.
“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me yesterday, if I had any message from Loulou.” He sounds stilted. The usually composed Mr. Morrell looks nervous. She’s wondering if he has bad news. “You should know she was very certain about what she wanted concerning the gifts. I advised her against it, but she was adamant.”
At Nell’s furrowed eyebrows he says, “Not about the gifts in particular. I mean, who cares what I think? Against specifying them in the will. I thought it should be distributed through a trust, the whole thing actually, for tax purposes.”
Nell hazily remembers this from her one estate planning class in law school. She hasn’t thought to question the structure of the estate. This isn’t her area of law.
“But she wanted it specifically enumerated. Even more so after I explained the tax and probate consequences. She wanted to make absolutely sure that a judge distributed the gifts as she intended. It’s not uncommon to do it this way when there’s suspicion of a challenge. I get the feeling she thought it was going to be controversial. She never said anything, but I think she was concerned with your uncle Baldwin monkeying around with parts of it. That’s why she made you executor, not him.”
Looking at Louis, she wonders if she doesn’t have a small glimpse into why Loulou hired him. He’s smart, certainly, and employed at an elite firm. But there are lots of lawyers who fit that bill. He’s handsome, she realizes. Craggy, you might call it, with none of that boyish thing going on. Perhaps Loulou wanted a piece of eye candy around at the end, and why not? Yes, she thinks, she’s sure Loulou enjoyed being called on by Louis Morrell.