When the Moon Turns Blue by Pamela Terry

Author:Pamela Terry [Terry, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2023-02-21T00:00:00+00:00

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Macon had driven straight to his office, his silver Audi fishtailing twice on the slick roads. The fragments of memory that had flashed through his mind in Porter Griffin’s kitchen had begun to link together, forming something he recognized, and by the time he’d opened the old man’s file he pretty much knew what he’d find. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

It had been a gallbladder attack thirty years ago that had given Old Man Griffin the first real indication that mortality was an ecumenical concept. He’d doubled over in the middle of his Sunday lunch, convinced his heart was about to explode, certain that he wouldn’t live to see the sun set. The relief when he’d found out differently had been tempered with the now inescapable realization that he wasn’t going to be the first man allowed a pass but was, in fact, going to die like everyone else.

For Porter, knowing he had no relatives left on the planet, the possibility of everything he owned, especially Griffin Park—his father’s pride and joy—going to the state, of all places, triggered an apoplexy impossible to bear. He ran to plop his bottom in the chair across from Macon’s desk the minute he was released from the hospital.

“Hell, just put your name down,” Porter had told his lawyer. “I’ll figure out where I want it all to go later, and we’ll redo it then. But I don’t want to live one more second thinking everything I have might go to the government.”

After being well and truly convinced there were no relatives available to receive all the man’s worldly goods, Macon had tried to convince him to leave it to a charity. “Or, you know, some individual you deem worthy,” he’d said.

“Dammit, Macon. I deem you worthy. I’ve watched your career, son. You’re smart, and I think we share the same values, you know, deep down. You won’t do anything stupid with it all. And it’s just for now. Until I decide something different.”

Old Man Griffin—the proud owner of that appellation even then—had left Macon’s office that rainy morning promising to look into deserving charities that might benefit from his largesse upon death, and Macon, fully expecting him to do that, had stuck the will into the file drawer, never anticipating his eventual ownership of what he knew to be a fortune. The will had dropped deeper and deeper in his mind, each year landing like a shovelful of soil, until now as he bent over it the words before him seemed as unlikely as snow in the month of July.

Macon sat down, hard. The news of the morning was the shiny object he’d needed to make people look the other way. If he’d prayed for something to erase the memory of his humiliation at Micheline’s yesterday, he couldn’t have been blessed any better. But the ramifications of Porter’s will were tricky; any one of them could push Macon into corners he might be reluctant to go.

He swiveled his chair toward the door and away from the window.

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