The Artist Colony by Joanna FitzPatrick

Author:Joanna FitzPatrick [FitzPatrick, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2021-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

MONDAY, JULY 28

—15—

Sarah and Rosie stood in front of a white two-story adobe building at the corner of Alvarado and Franklin Streets. An engraved brass plaque on the front door read: ELMER PEABODY, ESQ., ATTORNEY AT LAW. BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.

The only other law office Sarah had ever visited was the elegant, art deco office of Mr. Foster M. Giles in New York. She met with him before she boarded the train to San Francisco. He’d given her a quick course in estate law and spoken crossly about Ada choosing to write her own will. If he had written it, he’d have given Sarah, the executor of Ada’s estate, a copy.

The two women mounted the stairs to Mr. Peabody’s office and opened the glass-paneled door. There was no secretary in the outer office to greet them but the desk was neat and orderly.

Rosie knocked on the inner office door.

A very skinny sixtyish human scarecrow opened the door. He was dressed as a Victorian gentleman in a three-piece suit with a gold pince-nez perched on the bridge of a prominent nose. He stretched his long, thin neck outward and looked down at Rosie. “Miss McCann, you’re five minutes late.”

Rosie apologized and quickly introduced Sarah. The ladies were then ushered over to two Queen Anne chairs. Mr. Peabody, surprisingly quick for a man of his age and height, sat down in a massive black leather chair behind his desk. He scrunched his hooked nose and the pince-nez fell down and swung from a gold chain attached to a button hole in his lapel, ready when needed.

“Tell me now, Miss McCann, what is so important that you insisted on an appointment during my lunch hour?”

Sarah hadn’t expected him to be so severe, but she sat up straight, met his eyes, and spoke before Rosie could: “I need representation in the settlement of an estate for which I am the executor and the sole beneficiary.”

“I see,” he said, retrieving his pince-nez and perching it back on his nose. “May I see the decedent’s will?”

Sarah explained that she didn’t have the will in her possession, but expected to have it soon. She hurried on before he could object. “How long does it normally take to settle an estate?”

“It’s difficult to say without reading the will, but if it clearly states you are the only beneficiary then it will be fairly simple.” He raised a long forefinger. “However, if another party contests your authority then it would have to be settled in probate court. That is a much more arduous and expensive process.”

He sensed Sarah’s anxiousness and added, “Is there someone who will contest the will, Miss Cunningham?”

“Not that I know of,” she lied.

“Well then . . .” he tapped the same finger on the plunger of a shiny black metal timer clock sitting on the side of his desk. The shrill bell made the ladies jump. “Then by all means, let’s proceed.” He dipped a black Sheaffer fountain pen into the inkwell and the slurping sound of the thirsty pen held everyone’s attention.

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