The Kiss Plot by Nicole French

Eight

After a few hours of eating shrimp cocktail and making polite, awkward conversation in the parlor, Eric, his family, and I piled into the late Jonathan de Vries’s office to listen to Celeste’s lawyer read her will. It was an unnecessary gesture, of course, but this was what Celeste wanted: a formal family gathering orchestrated at her whim. A pronouncement. A bit of theater.

Heather and Violet took seats on a big leather couch against the built-in bookshelves. Nina and Calvin assumed the chairs in front of the desk while Eric and I, still holding hands, stood under the Ansel Adams landscapes in the back of the room. Some other extended family members loitered in between, but those invited were a select few.

The lawyer briskly entered the room holding his briefcase and looked very self-important as he took a seat behind the giant carved desk. The room quieted as everyone watched the man remove the will, a deceptively small document, from a leather-bound folder and spread it carefully across the desktop.

He cleared his throat. “Good evening, everyone. First and foremost, please accept my deepest condolences regarding the loss of Mrs. de Vries. She was a great lady and will be dearly missed.”

Not a face in the room moved. Not even a sniffle. The lawyer cleared his throat again.

“For those of you I have not had the privilege of meeting, my name is Thomas J. Clark from the estate firm of Clark and Levine. You may call me Tom. I have been appointed executor of the last surviving will of Celeste Annika Van Dusen de Vries.”

He looked around meaningfully, as if speaking the name of the deceased would chase out some fake attendees from the room. No one moved.

“It was the wish of Mrs. de Vries to have her will read to those specifically named in it before submitting the document for probate, which is why your presence has been requested here today. I personally drafted the will for Mrs. de Vries several times over the past few months, the last iterations dated August eighth and November second of this year.”

There was a low murmur—clearly some substantial changes had been made that the family was not aware of. Beside me, Eric stiffened. The dates meant something to me too. The first was, after all, the day after our engagement party in the Hamptons. The date we had become something…more. The second, of course, was the day of our wedding.

Absently, my hand moved to toy with the rings dangling down my dress front. Eric watched their progress with a veiled expression, then fixed his gaze to the front of the room. A few seconds later, however, I felt a large hand slip around my waist, and he pulled me against his tall, strong body.

“I will now read aloud the last will and testament of Celeste de Vries, per the wishes of the deceased,” said Tom. “As the document is relatively short, please wait until the end of the reading with any questions, which I will answer to the best of my abilities.”

He looked around for a brief moment. Still, no one in the de Vries family moved.

“Just read it, Tom,” snapped Calvin. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yes,” said Tom. “Well.

“‘I, Celeste Annika Van Dusen de Vries, resident in the City of New York, County of New York, State of New York, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence—”’

“Just get to the parts where she says who gets what, please,” Calvin cut in. “We know all of this. She was sick, but she wasn’t incapable.”

“Calvin!” Nina hissed at her husband.

“What?” he asked.

Eric shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “dick,” but I couldn’t tell for sure.

Tom blinked around the room. “Would everyone prefer that I do that? She truly did request that we read the document in its entirety, but it’s not strictly necessary, I suppose…”

His uncertain gaze landed on Eric, who stiffened.

“I think it’s best if you skip to the sections that pertain directly to everyone here, Tom, and summarize the rest, if you don’t mind,” Eric said, much to the visible relief of everyone else. “Calvin’s right. It has been a long day. We’re all fairly beat.”

“Especially those of us who’ve actually been here for the last two weeks,” muttered Calvin. But no one else in the room backed him.

Tom, however, just looked relieved. “Very well,” he said as he reexamined the document. “It directs that the funeral expenses be paid out of a fund she set aside for the purpose, which has been done. She also appoints me as her executor, which I am. And then she splits up her assets to beneficiaries—”

Everyone in the room immediately straightened.

“—which I’ll read without addresses, as follows:

“To my daughter, Violet Arabella de Vries Astor, in addition to her current trust and holdings within the de Vries corporation, I leave my jewelry collection in its entirety, my car and driver, and the property and holdings at 1184 Southampton Road, Southampton, Long Island, along with the following sum for its maintenance—”

Violet preened, clearly happy with her lot. She had received the massive estate in Long Island, which, by my Zillow explorations, was valued at somewhere around one hundred and forty million dollars. And that wasn’t even counting the cars, art, furnishings, and any other priceless commodities on the property.

“To my daughter-in-law, Heather Denise Keeler née de Vries née Stallsmith, I bequeath her current residence, the townhouse at 170 East Sixty-seventh Street, New York, New York, along with the contents of the following accounts to maintain said property—” Tom looked up. “Er, would you like me to read the account numbers too?”

Huh. I hadn’t realized Heather, despite being remarried, still lived on de Vries property. Celeste must have cared for her more than I assumed.

“Good lord,” Calvin muttered to Nina, who did her best to shush him again. “Of course not. Just read on, man. Honestly!”

Tom readjusted his glasses before he continued:

“To my dedicated butler, Garrett Donaldson, I leave my property at 8614 Park Avenue and everything in it, excluding the jewelry listed below, as well as the contents of the following accounts for the property’s maintenance, HOA fees, and taxes until his end of life—”

An audible gasp interrupted the man once again—this time it was from Violet.

“She can’t be serious!” she cried. “Mother left the penthouse to a servant? It’s one of the most valuable properties in her estate! It’s been in the family for nearly a hundred years!”

“I assure you, ma’am, it’s correct,” Tom replied even as he checked the will again. “She was quite adamant about it. Mr. Donaldson has served the family faithfully for most of his life, or so she said. She wanted him to live out the remainder of his in what she said was his home as much as it was hers. The remainder of the building, however, stays within the general estate, I assure you, but she wished for the penthouse to be subdivided and gifted to Mr. Donaldson.”

I smiled to myself. This also, I hadn’t expected—Celeste de Vries becoming a tool for the redistribution of wealth, at least a little bit, upon her death.

“Vive la révolution,” I murmured.

Eric looked down with a muffled grin that revealed one dimple. “Your French is still horrible,” he said below the chatter of the room.

I hid a smile of my own. It seemed in poor taste to make fun of the grieving, but it did feel a little like Celeste was probably cackling over this exact moment from beyond the grave.

“All right, all right,” Tom said. “You can fight it if you like, Mr. Gardner, but I’ll tell you right now, Mrs. de Vries took every precaution to guard her wishes. You’ll be hard pressed to find a judge who will overturn this in any state, much less New York.”

There was another rumble of dismay—clearly the penthouse was a hot commodity with this group, although I wouldn’t have wanted to touch the winding old labyrinth, myself. I’d be too afraid David Bowie or a bunch of puppeteered goblins would burst into song behind every corner.

“Dance, magic, dance,” I sang to myself quietly.

Eric just frowned at me blankly.

The group quieted when Calvin rapped his knuckles on the edge of the desk.

“What else?” he barked. “What else did dear Grandmother decide to ‘surprise’ us with? Can you give us the Cliff’s Notes?”

Tom cast a sharp look in Calvin’s direction, but seemed to think better of his retort as he went back to scanning the document.

“Well, there’s another sum and property for Nina Gardner—seventy-five million plus an apartment on Lexington. Another few small amounts designated for great-grandchildren—small for her, that is. Ten million each in a trust, to be released at age thirty or when they get married. Another few odds and ends to the gardeners at Southampton who took care of her roses, and another small amount for her brother, Rufus. Ah, and to Ms. Jane Lee Lefferts, the sum of fifty million dollars, to be dispensed immediately into the following account, provided she meets a certain condition of Eric’s inheritance.”

Tom proceeded to rattle off the USBC number, but it was masked by the second round of uproar that traveled around the room.

“What?”

“She must be joking!”

“She gave fifty million dollars to her?”

I, however, was just finding it hard to breathe at all. Fifty million dollars. Fifty million dollars. More than double what I’d originally been promised for marrying her grandson.

I couldn’t even begin to fathom that kind of money, couldn’t even understand what it looked like. I only knew this was a life changer. Not just for me or my mother. But for anyone in my family who came after me. This was an income source for literally generations.

Celeste hadn’t just given me money. She’d given me and my family absolute freedom.

“There is absolutely no way my mother would have put that in her will,” Violet was arguing.

“She’s a nobody!” Calvin practically screamed with her. “The bastard of John Carson and his yellow whore! She’s already made this family a laughingstock once, and Grandmother wants to reward her for it? I won’t have it. None of us will!”

“Calvin, shut up!” Eric’s voice echoed through the room, a thunderclap in a storm.

I hadn’t noticed until then just how hard I was gripping his arm, finding it difficult to stand upright on my own. I was light in the head, and certainly in no condition to give Calvin a taste of his own sharp medicine.

Calvin turned in his chair toward us, and I fought the urge to hide behind Eric’s solid body, which stood taller than ever as he faced the roomful of hatred on my behalf.

“Eric,” Calvin said. “After what she did—”

“What did she do, Cal?” he asked. “Got reasonably angry because I kept a secret from her? And then married me anyway to save my face? I was the one who walked out on her, Calvin. If anyone embarrassed the family, it was me, not Jane.”

“Even so,” Violet chimed in. “She’s not a de Vries. Mother wouldn’t even let Nina take over the chairmanship at DVS because of her last name. There is absolutely no way she would give this much of her personal fortune to…to…someone like her.” She thrust her French-nailed finger at me so viciously I thought the gel tip might fly across the room and ping me in the head.

“Aunt Violet,” started Eric, the hand around my waist tightening even more.

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally croaked. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. “I won’t take it. I don’t want any of it anyway. Not if…not if it’s going to cause this kind of discord.”

“Well, at least she has some sense,” Calvin grumbled.

But Eric just frowned and shook his head vehemently. “She’s taking it,” he said. “Jane, don’t argue with me. These people have put you through enough. You’re taking the money, and then you’ll be rid of us, all right?” He looked around at his family. “We’re not married. The license was never signed, and it won’t be. Ever. So we’re going to give Jane this gift that Grandmother intended and let her go. Got it?”

There was a final grumble, but oddly at the finality in Eric’s voice, everyone turned back to the lawyer, ready to receive the final bombshells in the will.

“Get on with it,” Calvin snapped again. His face was turning red. “There’s really only one thing anyone here wants to know now. Did she leave the company to Eric, Nina, or decide to ruin us all out of spite?”

Was it my imagination, or did Nina smart at his words? I blinked, and the next moment, Eric’s cousin was sitting next to her husband as placidly as ever, her smooth face without a ripple of disturbance.

Everyone turned forward again. Clearly this was the question of the evening.

The fingers at my waist pulled tensely on the fabric of my dress. Did Eric still want the company? Was he eager to be free? I honestly didn’t know.

It wasn’t really the company, of course. DVS was a publicly traded corporation, but the de Vries family still held exactly forty-nine percent of its shares—not enough to maintain veto power at board meetings when they wanted, but certainly enough to tank it—and the family’s trust funds—if Celeste had decided to sell it off, as she threatened, instead of bequeathing it to everyone else.

Tom took a deep breath, looking very much like he wanted to escape out the window behind him. “I’m afraid, Mr. de Vries, the final item may deter your plans for Ms. Lefferts.” He looked down at the will.

“To my prodigal grandson”—there was a groan from Calvin—“Eric de Vries, I bequeath my shares of De Vries Shipping Corporation under the following stipulations:

1. He will assume the chairmanship of the board (with the votes from the board) within two months of this notice and by their vote;
2. He will ensure a place on the board of directors for his cousin, Nina Gardner née Astor, and an executive position within the company;
3. He will live in congress with one Jane Lefferts Lee, in or out of wedlock by his and her choice, for a period no less than sixty days from November second of this year.”

Immediately, the room burst into uproar all over again as everyone shouted and yelled about it.

“So he doesn’t have to be married now?”

“Sixty days? That’s it?”

“What in the hell is happening?”

But Eric was as silent as stone. Instead, he was staring at me, his face pale as the moon and his eyes as wide as craters.

That fear I had seen before had returned. Panic.

“She knew,” he whispered. “Fucking hell.”

“She knew what?” I asked.

But Eric had no more answers for me. Instead, his gaze shot to Calvin, whose skin had also blanched considerably. “What have you done?” Eric demanded.

Calvin’s piggish face only turned a few shades whiter, but for once, he remained quiet.

“No,” Eric said, standing up. He turned to Nina and the rest of them. “We can’t. You…you don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Tom said as he held up the will. “It’s what the document says. And I’m sorry to say it, but if you do not comply, I am to arrange for the partitioning and sale of the company shares to the highest bidders and donate the proceeds of the sales to a list of approved charities. If the family wanted to purchase them on their own, I’m afraid even the combined liquid wealth of everyone in this room would not be anywhere near enough to purchase forty-nine percent of DVS.”

Behind them, Calvin’s face screwed up even more, and in front of him, Nina’s smooth brow crinkled in confusion, mirroring the twin faces of her mother and her aunt.

“What is going on?” Nina asked as she looked between Eric and Calvin. “Eric, what did Calvin do?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Eric said. “You did this. She was free, Calvin. She was free. Did you tell Grandmother? You did, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t say a word,” Calvin whispered, though guilt was scribbled all over his face.

Eric just shook his head, the arm around my waist fell away, and he shuffled toward the door.

“No, but if you hadn’t told John about her in the first place—” he started.

“I didn’t tell him anything!”

“Well, someone did.”

“Eric, just wait a second—” I tried.

But before anyone could say anything else—or before I could ask one of the million questions running through my mind—Eric received a text message.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said. “I have to go.”

And then, despite the general uproar in the room, he left.

Two seconds later, my phone also buzzed in my coat pocket. The message was from an unfamiliar number and was short and terse:

The old dairy in Central Park.

Ten minutes.

The both of you.

–C

I stared at it for a long time. It didn’t take a genius to know who had sent it. John Carson. Dear old Dad. Apparently, he had a few things to say to the two of us. Well, I had a few things to say too. And there was no time like the present to get them out.