Three vehicles pulled into the long driveway of the Van der Mer Victorian manse. A tall, well-dressed man in his middle thirties stepped out of a dark blue Lincoln Continental. A red Jaguar pulled up behind and an equally large man in his late twenties unfolded himself out of the low-slung car. They turned and watched as a lithe, long legged, young woman in her early twenties vaulted from her King Cab truck.
She slammed the door shut, and with a toss of her long flaxen hair sauntered toward the two Nordic men. With a big grin she merrily called out, "Hello cousins. Anyone remember to bring the Tums?"
"Really Marta!" said the older of the two men. He pursed his lips in spinster-like disapproval.
Marta grinned. "Oh come off it, George." She flipped the shoulder strap of her oversized purse over her head. "You can't tell me you and Fred don't come away from these monthly dinners without your ulcers screaming. I can't be the only one who's been fighting the urge to tell Uncle Stephan to go jump off a cliff. Up to now, that is."
George drew himself up into a stance of offended dignity. "I've never had the slightest urge to do any such thing."
"No, I suppose not." Marta looked at the younger man. "Fred's a timid mouse afraid of the cat."
Fred looked at her in surprise, then with a small amused smile shrugged. "Squeak?"
Marta smiled and kissed him on one cheek. "It's all right, Dear. With you, there are redeeming features." She turned to George. "You, on the other hand, have no excuse. You're an avaricious stuffed shirt who'll never have enough no matter how much you acquire."
"I hardly think insults are necessary," George said stiffly.
"I don't see why not, I should get something out of tonight's conflict. I fully expect you to verbally kiss Uncle Stephan's backside when he tears into me. I see no reason to start out with pretense. You don't like me and I don't like you." She shrugged. "Perhaps a little of Uncle Stephan's sadistic nature is contagious. Be that as it may, you can both relax and enjoy your meals tonight. Uncle is zeroing in on me."
"How do you know?" asked Fred.
"You'll see," she called over her shoulder as she mounted the stone steps to the wide veranda that encircled the house. The two men followed as she strode up to the large double doors and lifted the heavy iron gargoyle knocker.
Moments later, a mildly plump, middle-aged woman with graying red hair opened one of the double doors. "Good evening, Miss Marta," she said as she stepped back out of the way.
"Good evening, Mrs. Andersen." Marta removed her light jacket and handed it to the waiting housekeeper. "We who are about to die, and all that sort of thing."
Mrs. Andersen's green eyes blinked at this announcement. She looked at Marta uncertainly. "Yes, Miss." she replied with a slight Irish accent. "Thank you, Miss." She turned to George and accepted his suede coat. "Good evening, Mr. George."
George nodded and passed by into the foyer.
Fred came in and gave Mrs. Andersen a quick kiss on the cheek. "What's for din-din, Mrs. A?"
Mrs. Andersen flushed and gave a quick self-conscious look at the backs of the other two cousins. She smiled fondly at Fred as he walked over to the foyer coat closet and hung up his own coat. She shut the front door and joined him. "The Master ordered roast beef with the usual."
She handed him George's coat and leaned forward to say in a conspiratorial whisper, "But he didn't say anything about dessert, so I made your favorite, deep dish apple pie a la mode."
Fred gave her a sunny boyish grin. He reached for Marta's jacket. "Mrs. A., you are a woman after my own heart. I may adopt you yet."
Mrs. Andersen laughed softly. Then, after quickly checking that everyone was out of ear shot, she leaned forward and whispered, "And how are the you know who's?"
Fred grinned. He came out of the hall closet and whispered, "We're having a small party a week from this coming Wednesday at seven p.m. You're invited. You do still get every other Wednesday evening off?"
She nodded. "His lodge night. I'll be there."
They both jumped at the sound of an elderly man clearing his throat. On the landing, halfway down the spiral staircase, Uncle Stephan stood frowning down at them with suspicion in every line of his body. "Mrs. Andersen, since you seem to have time to whisper secrets with Frederick, I presume that everyone has arrived and dinner is ready to be served?"
"Yes, Sir. The girls and I can start serving dinner just as soon as you are ready."
#
Dinner progressed from the soup and salad through the roast beef in unusually peaceful small talk. However, as soon as Mrs. Andersen finished serving the dessert and coffee, Uncle Stephan set his bone china coffee cup gently down in front of him.
When Mrs. Andersen had left the room he looked at each of the nephews in turn, passing quickly over George, pausing with a small frown with Fred, then turned his full attention to his niece.
"Marta," he said sternly, "I received your wedding invitation three weeks ago. I would've expected to be included in the planning some months ago when you began arrangements. However, I put a rush order out and had the young man properly investigated. Such a man, with his antecedents, is a totally unacceptable addition to the Van der Mer family."
Marta looked up from her pie and ice cream with a gamin grin. "Isn't it nice that it isn't you who'll be marrying him. I find him very acceptable. The wedding will go as planned next Sunday. You're still invited to come."
"Marta, I am the head of the Van der Mer family. If you marry this man against my wishes, I'll cut you out of my will."
She nodded. "Yes, I know." Marta picked up her dinner knife and waved it at Uncle Stephan. "Cut away. I'm sure George and Fred will be delighted to have the extra share. They've certainly earned it."
"Marta," Fred said, in worried tones, as he set down his silverware and leaned toward her, "perhaps you ought to rethink your direct confrontation methods."
He cast a quick nervous look at Uncle Stephan. "I mean, maybe he found out something bad about this man. You should listen."
Marta shook her head. "What Uncle found out about Michael Conway is that he came from a lower middle income family. Being white, rather than a titular minority, and with good but not great grades, he couldn't get any scholarships. So he had to work his way through college and law school at any job he could get. He earned everything he's gotten without help from anyone."
She turned to Uncle Stephan. "And I don't need you to tell me he received government assistance. That assistance came in the form of loans not handouts. Loans which have been paid in full. He may not be able to trace his ancestry back to the running of the Spanish out of Holland; but he's a man I can respect, and I love him."
"Love!" retorted Uncle Stephan. "That won't pay the bills. With your parents living like there is no tomorrow, they aren't likely to leave you much. Your own spending habits aren't much better with all your expensive tastes." Uncle Stephan leaned forward and sneered with gloating relish, "That young man didn't even get into a good firm. He's an ambulance chaser; and isn't likely to be able to support you in the style to which you are accustomed for many years to come, if ever."
Marta laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I've become a much better budget planner than you think. I took courses this last semester on household finances, marriage and family. Believe it or not, I've even learned to cook and sew."
George and Uncle Stephan looked at her with stunned expressions.
Fred had a coughing fit into his napkin as he tried not to laugh. "What," he asked as he got his breathing under control," ever happened to the liberated woman? The one who sworn she had no aptitude for being a house frau?"
Marta laughed. "Yes, well ... things change. Although, I've no intention of spending my life doing nothing else. I'm keeping my housekeeper. Oh the other hand, a few romantic gourmet meals now and then from my own little hands wouldn't go amiss."
Fred shook his head in mock wonderment. "There is such a thing as miracles."
"What it all boils down to," said Marta as she speared her last piece of pie, "is that if you don't buy anything on time you don't get big bills. I paid off my plastic last month, canceled all my accounts and destroyed the cards."
Uncle Stephan stared at Marta. "I don't believe it."
"Believe it, old tyrant." Marta retorted cheerfully. She nodded toward her eldest cousin. "Eight years ago, you used George's innate greediness to force him to choose between your money and his talent for music. Instead of thumbing his nose at your money and being a happy concert flutist, he chose to be an unhappy banker with a jaundiced view of other people's motivations."
She turned to look at her other cousin. "Fred here wanted to marry a very nice girl who would've made him a good wife. He'd probably have a couple of kids by now. But you hit him in his insecurities. It can't have been easy living here under your thumb as a poor relative, especially your poor relative. Your threat of cutting off his allowance and removing him from your will destroyed everything. All because you didn't like the fact that her father is a mechanic." She shook her head sadly. "Poor Fred. At least he has some excuse for caving in."
Fred's lips twitched as Marta reached across the table and patted his left hand.
Marta sat back in her chair and looked directly at Uncle Stephan. "Personally, I find your heartless interference disgusting. I came here tonight knowing you'd hand the same line of crap to me. Forget it." She plopped the last piece of pie into her mouth.
Uncle Stephan slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. He glared at Marta. "You dare to speak to me in that way at my own table?"
Marta slowly took a drink of coffee. "You're absolutely right." She wiped her mouth. Setting her napkin beside her coffee cup, she stood up. "That being the case, I'll say good night, and thank you for the lovely dinner." Marta gracefully walked out of the dining room with both of her cousins staring at her back with blue, unbelieving eyes.
Uncle Stephan's lips pressed themselves into a thin line as his eyes narrowed. He leaned back into his seat as he silently watched Marta leave. Upon hearing the front door shut Uncle Stephan turned to his two waiting nephews with a grim, thoroughly nasty smile. "So, having her own way means more to her than money, does it?"
#
The following Sunday, Marta Van der Mer and Michael Conway were married in the garden of her parent's house. Her cousins attended, but not Uncle Stephan.
#
Mrs. Andersen was late leaving the Van der Mer house Wednesday evening. Mr. Van der Mer had been unreasonable all day long with an untold number of chores which had to be done immediately. Then, just as she expected him to leave for his lodge night, he chose to stay home, and dinner had to be prepared.
It was almost eight o'clock before Mrs. Andersen left the house muttering to herself about surly old goats. She drove her ancient Chevy sedan down the driveway and turned toward the city. A car, with its lights out, pulled away from the curb behind her. Unnoticed, it followed her down the dark road to the main highway. Just before turning onto the highway the follower turned on his lights. Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Andersen reached a small suburban house. The second car passed her, turned the corner and parked.
The front door to the house opened as Mrs. Andersen got halfway up the walk. Fred Van der Mer came out onto the narrow porch. "Mrs. A.! We were worried about you."
"I'm sorry, Love. It couldn't be helped. Your uncle decided to stay home at the last minute, and I couldn't call for fear I'd be overheard. He's been acting very strangely lately. Several times I've heard the click of an extension receiver when I've been on the phone."
"Well, you're here now," said a young woman holding a small boy in her arms. "That's what's important."
As Mrs. Andersen entered the house, the driver's door of the second car opened and a man got out. He reached in and picked up a small camera. Moments later he stood in the shadows of the modest house and looked in through the lace curtains. Quietly, going from window to window, the man took pictures of the inside of the house. He then quickly returned to his car and drove away.
#
Friday afternoon, Mr. Van der Mer called Mrs. Andersen into his study. A large manila envelope lay on his desk. Silently, he took the contents out and spread 5-by-7 photographs across the desk in front of Mrs. Andersen. Beside them he lay a photocopy of a marriage license which had Mrs. Andersen's signature as one of the witnesses. "One thing I will not tolerate," he said in quiet fury, "is a dishonest servant."
Mrs. Andersen drew herself up to her full five-feet-seven-inches. "You've no complaints due you on that score. I've done my duties as cook and housekeeper faithfully for these last thirty-two years. What I do in my free time is no concern of yours."
Mr. Van der Mer angrily slammed one hand on the photos. "I forbade the marriage. You not only took part in the ceremonies, you failed to inform me of my nephew's flaunting of my orders."
Mrs. Andersen, her own face flush with anger, leaned over the desk with both hands flat on the photo covered surface. "You old monster! You've no legal, much less moral, right to forbid any marriage. Fred was of age and Penny is a lovely young woman, and a good wife and mother. She'd be a credit to any family. I love them both as if they were my own, which Fred virtually is since I'm the one who raised him after his father killed his mother and then himself." She pointed a shaking finger at Van der Mer's darkening face. "Something that wouldn't have happened if you'd given your own brother the loan he needed to save his business."
Van der Mer sprang to his feet. "How dare you speak to me like that! You, a mere domestic." He threw down a check on top of the marriage license. "This will cover your back pay and two weeks additional pay in lieu of notice. There will, of course, be no letter of reference to be expected from me. I expect you to be packed and out of my house by nightfall." With a vicious smile Mr. Van der Mer held up a long envelope. "Your efforts to safe guard Frederick's share of my money is all for nothing. I've written a new will which cuts both Marta and Frederick out. I've already called all three to let them know ..." he chuckled nastily, "virtue is its own reward." He glared at her with icy cool eyes. "Your last official act in this household will be to send the maids to witness the signing of this new will."
"May you spend all eternity having the gold you value so much poured molten down your throat," shouted Mrs. Andersen. "May all the saints of Ireland curse you that you never have a happy day while still you live."
Shaking with rage, Van der Mer pointed at the check still laying on the desk. "Take your money and go. I never want to see you again."
Wordlessly, Mrs. Andersen picked up the check, looked at it briefly and said, "The feeling is mutual." Stiffly walking to the door she left the room shutting the door behind her.
#
Marta and Michael returned from their honeymoon late Friday night. Seeing the telephone answering machine's light blinking Marta went over and pushed the replay button. There was a short pause then Stephan Van der Mer's voice came from the speaker. "I hate these things. People should talk with people, not machines. I'm calling to tell you I've discovered Frederick's perfidy in secretly marrying that peasant's daughter. I have written a new will as I said I would. George has been informed as well. Virtue is its own reward." The line went dead and the tape automatically rewound.
"What was that all about?" asked Michael Conway.
"Just Uncle Stephan making sure I know nothing will come to me when he dies."
Michael took Marta into his arms. "We already knew that."
"Yes, but he had to make it official." She shrugged. "It's just his way."
#
Early Saturday morning the telephone rang. Marta dried her hands on a dish towel and picked up the phone. "Hello."
"Is this Marta Van de Mer, niece of Stephan Van der Mer?"
"I'm his niece, but my last name is Conway now."
"Mrs. Conway, this is Doctor Rogers. Your uncle was one of my patients."
"Was?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, Mrs. ... Conway. He died of heart failure sometime yesterday afternoon. He was found late in the afternoon by one of the maids who came in to clean his study. It seems your cousin George is at a banking convention in New York, and your cousin Frederick left work early yesterday and doesn't answer the phone at his apartment. I need a family member to make the necessary arrangements. I've already identified the body. The otherwise obligatory autopsy won't be performed because I saw him in my office that morning, so the body can be released to a funeral home as soon as arrangements can be made."
"Of course, I'll check with Mrs. Andersen about any prearrangement papers. I think I remember there was something arranged."
Doctor Rogers cleared his throat. "That might be difficult. I gather there was some kind of falling out and Mrs. Andersen was discharged. However, perhaps one of the maids knows how to contact her."
"I'll find her," said Marta. "Do I go to the morgue or what?"
"That won't be necessary. The funeral home will do all that once you get the wheels turning."
#
A little over an hour later, Marta arrived at the Van der Mer estate. Mrs. Andersen met her at the door.
"Mrs. Andersen!" cried out Marta in delighted surprise. "I'd heard you'd been dismissed."
"Yes ... Mr. Pendergast, the lawyer you know, found me at my sister's house. He asked me to come oversee things until the probate ... I am sorry Miss Marta, I mean Mrs. Conway. The fact is, your uncle made a new will after you married."
Marta nodded. "Don't worry about it. I have to find any papers Uncle Stephan had for funeral arrangements, go through his address book to notify his lodge officials, and that sort of thing. Just go about your usual business. I'll be in the office."
"Any important papers will be in the safe. I'm not sure where the keys are."
"I'll find them. Knowing Uncle Stephan's feelings of superiority, I doubt they'll be hard to find. He'd have believed no one would dare rob him, and probably just have them in his desk."
#
The funeral took place that Wednesday. After the cremation and internment, everyone met at the Van der Mer estate for a light supper. When the last of the guests had left, the lawyer, Mr. Pendergast, sat behind Uncle Stephan's desk and took out a long document in a blue cover. Directly before him sat the three cousins as well as Michael Conway and George's wife, Laura. Slightly behind the family Mrs. Andersen sat next to the chauffeur and gardener.
"I have here Mr. Van der Mer's last will dated sixteen years ago." He looked down at it and cleared his throat.
George leaned forward. "Mr. Pendergast, my uncle wrote a more recent will by hand. I know he did."
Mr. Pendergast looked up startled. "What?"
George nodded. "I happen to know that he wrote a new will after Marta got married and he discovered Fred had secretly defied Uncle Stephan's orders not to marry a woman Uncle Stephan disapproved of. He cut them both out, leaving everything to me."
Pendergast raised one eyebrow. "Where is this alleged will, Mr. Van der Mer?"
"I should think it would be in the safe." George turned to look at Marta, Fred, and Mrs. Andersen. "Assuming that no one has taken it."
Pendergast looked down his long nose at George in disapproval. "That, young man, borders on the actionable. I'd suggest more restraint in your word choices."
Marta nodded toward the desk. "You'll find Uncle Stephan's keys in the center drawer. I left them there last Saturday afternoon when I finished arranging everything. However, I've been through Uncle Stephan's safe looking for his pre-internment papers and didn't see a will of any kind amongst the papers there."
Pendergast opened the center drawer and took out the ring of keys. He pushed back the desk chair and stood up. Going to a large shield on the wall behind him, he pulled on it. The shield opened like a door exposing a three foot high safe. Inside the safe were a variety of papers, but no will.
George looked at Marta. "Very clever, Marta. I suppose you burned it." "Now, see here," yelled Michael Conway turning on George. As Pendergast glared his disapproval at George.
Marta put a hand on Michael's arm. "No, dear, it's a natural conclusion. I should imagine everyone here is thinking the same thing. However, I didn't destroy any will, and there wasn't any will in the safe. If Uncle Stephan made another will he must've put it somewhere else." Marta turned to Mrs. Andersen. "Did you see where he put the will he's alleged to have written?"
"No, Mrs. Conway. He did write a new will. He had me bring the two maids in to witness his signature. But I know nothing of it's whereabouts."
Pendergast frowned and shook his head. "Most irregular," he said with heavy disapproval. "He should have telephoned me and arranged for an appointment. What did the second will say?"
"I don't know, Sir. He didn't say, and he had a blank sheet of paper over the upper half of the page he and the maids signed."
Marta turned and shrugged. "Uncle Stephan was nothing if not unexpected. It would be typical of his twisted sense of humor to make a big noise about the new will, and then destroy it in anticipation of all the fuss and feathers that would cause." She looked at Mr. Pendergast. "I would think any serious will would be done properly through you."
Pendergast nodded and folded up the will he'd come to read. "The house will have to be searched. If no will is found, then it must be assumed my client destroyed it himself in a rare example of good sense."
#
Over the next several days, George and several professional searchers went over the large house from attic to cellar searching for the elusive will. They found nothing. The Saturday after the funeral, Michael and Marta Conway arrived at the police station to take the polygraph tests George Van der Mer insisted on through his attorney. People packed the small room on the other side of the one way mirror. Besides George and his lawyer were Mr. Pendergast, Fred Van der Mer, and a police detective in civilian clothes.
Michael Conway went first while Marta waited in the hallway with a uniformed policewoman. The graph needle stayed in a low wave pattern throughout. Then the policewoman hooked Marta up to the machine as Michael joined the group in the adjoining room. After hooking Marta up the policewoman stepped back and leaned against the wall with her arms folded. The plainclothes policeman running the machine checked all his inputs and then looked at the back of Marta's head. "First, I want you to give your full name, please."
"Marta Elaine Conway nee Van der Mer."
"Okay, now tell me a lie. How old are you?"
"Five hundred and twenty-seven years, nine months, three weeks, two days, and fourteen minutes."
The man's lips twitched as the needle made large, sharp swings to each side of the center line. He took a pen and wrote on the paper next to the graph peaks.
"Did you hide or destroy the will disinheriting you?"
"No."
The graph held steady and the man made pen notations on it. The questions went on for several minutes, but the polygraph needle stayed in a low steady up and down pattern. Finally, the policewoman unhooked Marta from the machine and everyone met in the hallway. Michael took Marta in his arms and held her close to him as he glared at George.
George left without a word with his attorney in tow.
Fred stood there shaking his head as he watched George's departure. "Poor George. He wasn't always this way. Uncle Stephan has a lot to answer for, not the least being the warping of George's character." He turned to look at Marta. "I gather from Mr. Pendergast that with no will found we go with the original will, and each get our fair share."
Marta smiled. "It looks that way. Incidentally, I haven't had a chance to congratulate you on your marriage and fatherhood. You know, I'm a bit hurt. You could've trusted me not to tell the old ogre."
Fred smiled shyly and shook his head. "I took a leaf from the Scarlet Pimpernel's book. Better everyone in the immediate family think me a marshmallow." He chuckled, "Or a mouse. When the shit hit the fan we were at least able to cut our expenses by getting rid of the apartment. It's been good to be able to be home every night. Once the will is probated and we get our share, Penny and I going to look for a place to buy.
Marta left Michael's arms to hug Fred. "Can I count on an invitation to the housewarming?"
Fred laughed. "Of course."
#
Two days later, everyone again met for the reading of Uncle Stephan's will. This time the meeting convened in Mr. Pendergast's office. Fred and Penny Van der Mer came in last. They stood hesitating in the doorway taking in the strained scene. George sat rigidly next to his wife at the far right hand side of the desk. He studiously ignored Marta and Michael, who sat near the left side. Two men, the chauffeur and the gardener sat against the back wall, well away from the family. A single chair remained halfway between George and Marta. With everyone's eyes on him, Fred took hold of the back of the chair. He moved it next to Marta and sat down, pulling Penny onto his lap.
Michael laughed and stood up. "Here," he said, taking his chair to the other side of Fred, "I'll stand."
Penny got up with an embarrassed smile and took the chair as Michael went to stand behind Marta.
"Ah, shucks," kidded Fred. "There would be a gentleman in the room."
A moment later, Mr. Pendergast entered through a door at the right side of the room. The two plainclothes police detectives from the polygraph tests came in behind him. They stood near the door as Mr. Pendergast set a dark green, hanging-style file folder on his desk and sat down. He solemnly looked them over for the space of three heart beats. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and his hands peaked with his fingertips just touching. "This is a most unusual situation." He looked at Marta with an expression of confused concern.
"Mrs. Conway, the police did not fully believe the results of the polygraph test. They had a hunch you were hedging some of your answers. They checked with your bank. The Monday after your uncle died you visited your safety deposit box."
George Van der Mer jumped to his feet. "I knew it. You stole the will. You didn't want to lose out on all that money. I never believed your claims not to care."
"Shut up!" ordered Mr. Pendergast.
George looked at him in surprise.
Pendergast glared at him and pointed at the chair George had been seated in. "Sit down!"
George stood there a moment more. His wife reached up and put one hand on his arm. "Please, George." He jerked his arm away and sat down. "Okay, but I was right."
Pendergast, visibly irked, stared him down. "As a matter of fact you were wrong."
"But you just said...."
"If you would allow me to finish uninterrupted, you'll find out sooner what the real situation is." Mr. Pendergast turned to Marta. "As I said, they found out you had gone into your safety deposit box. They got a court order and had the box opened." He removed a legal sized envelope from the file folder. "They found this." Pendergast opened the envelope, took a single piece of paper from it and began to read. "I, Stephan Eric Van der Mer, being of sound mind, do make this my last will and testament renouncing all previous wills made by me. To my chauffeur, Mr. O'Brian, and to my gardener, Mr. Fowler, I leave each the sum of one thousand dollars for every full year they have been in my service." Pendergast looked up. "Mr. O'Brian and Mr. Fowler, that works out to fifteen thousand dollars for each of you."
The servants looked pleased.
Pendergast returned to reading the will. "I have in the past tested the worth of each of my heirs. When my nephews, George and Frederick, were ordered to give up their heart's desires under the threat of being cut out of my will, it seemed they both did so. For a time it appeared that only my niece, Marta had the fortitude to defied me. I've since discovered that my nephew Frederick also defied me. I've less respect for him as he did so in a sly fashion rather than up front. I've decided that Marta is the only member of my family with any real guts, and therefore I leave the remainder of my estate to her, with the exception of one thousand dollars to my nephew George and five thousand dollars to my nephew Frederick on condition they do not contest this will. Virtue is its own reward George. Be glad of what money you are getting in addition." Pendergast looked up to see every face but Marta's staring at him in shocked disbelief.
George made a gurgling sound deep in his throat and went gray with shock.
"You can see," Marta said, "that isn't a fair will." She turned and looked at George. "Whatever my personal feelings of certain of my cousins, fair is fair." She turned back to face the lawyer. "When I found that will in Uncle Stephan's desk, I thought about destroying it. However, I decided I couldn't because if it ever came out, I'd never be able to prove it didn't disown me. So, I misplaced it." She turned to look at the two policemen. "Am I under arrest?"
The older of the two officers shook his head. "We've discussed it with the District Attorney and Mr. Pendergast. It's been decided that under the circumstances there's no purpose in pressing any charges."
Marta looked back at Pendergast. "The original will divided everything between us equally, didn't it?"
"Except for the bequests to Mr. Fowler, Mr. O'Brian, and the same to Mrs. Andersen who was dropped from this one, yes."
"Then why can't we just forget about this spite will and go by the older one?"
Pendergast shook his head. "We can't do that. However, once the estate clears probate, the property is yours to do with as you please. You can make deeds of gifts if you wish."
George stood up and glared at Marta. "If you think I'm going to kowtow to you...."
"No, George," said Marta, also rising. "There's been entirely too much of that already." She turned to the lawyer. "Mr. Pendergast, please draw up the necessary papers for me to sign, giving Mrs. Andersen her well earned share, and dividing the remainder into three equal shares. One share for each of us. I will sign it and," she turned back to George, "everyone here is witness to my verbal agreement to do so."
George looked embarrassed. With a grunt, he turned and left the room. Laura stopped by Marta and touched her on the arm. "Thank you." Then she hurriedly followed her husband.
Fred stood up and hugged Marta. He grinned at her. "Who would've guessed the old tyrant wanted to be defied? I'm beginning to think there was more to Uncle Stephan than met the eye."
Marta shook her head. "He was a malicious old man who took great pleasure in watching other people suffer. With all the people who hated Uncle Stephan, I'm frankly surprised he died a natural death. This will was just his way of reaching from the grave to cause hard feelings between us. I've no intention of letting the old fart get away with it. This is one time Uncle Stephan's will won't be a weapon."