Page 14 of One Snowy Day
In his impeccably cut suit and red tie, Jason looked exactly what he was – a successful property developer who was all about business. When Lachlan had seen him at the funeral, the focus had been on their father’s passing, and they’d managed to keep their distance and avoid contact during the service. Lachlan had wondered how he’d feel today, facing him in a room, and now he knew. Jason’s general air of entitlement. His raised chin of superiority. His smug face. Lachlan had never hated him more. And judging by Jason’s refusal to meet his eye, the feeling was mutual.
Lachlan shook Jeremy Sprite’s hand, then sat down opposite them, on a camel leather chair with a chrome frame that probably cost more than his couch at home.
The lawyer got straight to it, taking the lead. ‘Thank you all for coming today and I want to reassure you that this won’t take long. Your father took the unusual step of insisting that you all be present today for the reading of the will, and the reason that he did so will become apparent as we continue.’
Lachlan noticed that a pulse was throbbing on the side of Jason’s face – his lifelong tell that he was focused and ready for battle. Lachlan had no idea what there could be to fight about, but he didn’t much care. He’d be naïve if he didn’t think there was a significant inheritance coming. Their father had been driven. Relentless. Focused. Like Lachlan, his dad had also started his working life in as an apprentice joiner on a building site. His street-smarts and ambition needed no further evidence than the reality that he’d ended his working life with considerable wealth, a substantial property portfolio and a reputation for being a savvy businessman who trusted his gut and reaped the rewards.
‘I have had the privilege of being your father’s lawyer for almost thirty years and what I’m about to read is your father’s wishes for the dispersal of his estate.’
He then went on to spout a whole lot of legal jargon, before getting to the point of it all.
‘As you know, Martyn liquidated substantial assets before purchasing the house in Monaco, and that home is hereby bequeathed in entirety to his wife, Demi.’
Demi sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a hanky and Lachlan could be wrong, but he was pretty sure Jason rolled his eyes.
‘In a similar vein, and in accordance with Scottish law, Demi is hereby awarded fifty per cent of his moveable estate, approximately £250,000 pounds sterling.’
So his dad had half a million in the bank when he died.
‘That’s all he had? Half a million?’ That astonished outburst came from Jason, and the pulse on his cheek was beginning to look like a gobstopper that could explode at any minute.
‘Your father did anticipate that you would question that amount, but he wanted you to know that he has taken considerable and deliberate steps to spend his wealth over the last fewyears. I believe that after the death of your mother, he made the decision to – as he put it – enjoy every day like it was his last.’
Lachlan smiled – he’d heard his dad say that on every occasion they’d met up since Mum died, so that wasn’t a surprise.
‘He does also have a substantial overseas property portfolio, with a current value of over a million pounds, which has also been bequeathed to you, Demi.’
Another big sniff and more cheek dabbing, but this time there was a good chance it was tears of joy. Demi was now set up for life. And if that was the cost of giving Dad his last few years of happiness, then good on her.
‘No way! Fuck that,’ Jason spat.
Jeremy shut down the objection. ‘I understand your surprise, but I can assure you that was your father’s wish. But please let me continue. I now turn to your father’s assets in the UK. Technically speaking, under law, the offspring is entitled to fifty per cent of the moveable estate, which in this case is the cash reserves only, and it would be split equally between you both,’ he said, addressing both Jason and Lachlan now.
‘So all we get is 125 grand each?’ Jason’s voice was two octaves higher than usual, but Lachlan stayed silent. It was Dad’s money, his lifetime earnings. As far as he was concerned, his dad had every right to leave it to whoever he damn well pleased.
‘That’s not quite all,’ the lawyer continued, an unmistakable reprimand in his tone. ‘As you may know, your parents owned a large dwelling on the edge of the village of Burnbank, which passed solely to your father after your mother’s death…’
Burnbank. That was where they’d grown up until they were six or seven, when Dad had moved them all into the Georgian terrace in the Park Circus area of the city. Lachlan had lived there until he’d started work and moved into a flat with some mates, while eighteen-year-old Jason had borrowed fifty-grand off theirdad to do his first property deal. Dad had sold the Park Circus home when he’d moved to Monaco, but Lachlan wasn’t even aware that he’d still owned the Burnbank house.
‘And he also owned a commercial property in the village of Weirbridge. If I remember correctly, your father bought it for your mother’s fortieth birthday – a sentimental gesture as it was where they’d met.’
Twinges of familiarity dropped in now that this story was unfolding. His parents had both been fifteen when they’d met, and yes, it was in the café where a young Felicity McSlay had worked after school. When Jason and Lachlan were kids, she’d occasionally take them back there in the summer holidays, and she told them that story every time. How his dad had walked in, she’d served him a can of Irn-Bru and a bacon roll, and it had been love at first sight. Lachlan was pretty sure she was romanticising the tale, but the smile on her face every time she told it made him believe it.
Jeremy Sprite was still speaking. ‘Your father has instructed that both properties be sold upon his death. He didn’t want there to be any disagreements as to the path forward. Proceeds from the house have been bequeathed to Demi, and – I must stress that this is a crucial point – as long as there is no contest to the will, the revenue from the sale of the café is to be divided equally between his sons.’
‘How much are they worth?’ Jason cut right to the chase, but Jeremy didn’t flinch. ‘We’ve had them both surveyed and the manor house is worth approximately £1.2 million in its current condition, and the commercial property, which consists of the café and the apartment above it, is worth roughly £360K. The tenants have already moved out of the home, and a sixty-day termination of lease has been served on the commercial property.’
‘Christ, this is all going to take months,’ Jason groaned, making his feelings clear. ‘I want it sold way quicker than that.’ Lachlan didn’t understand the issue. Jason’s greed aside, this was a gift – more than they were legally due – so why did he have such a stick up his ass about it? Especially when his brother’s property development company could probably buy everything Lachlan owned and not even notice the dent in its bank account.
Jeremy hadn’t finished. ‘This brings me to the reason for this meeting. Jason and Lachlan, your father wanted to be assured that today would not cause prolonged issues between you all, so this offer stands only if it is accepted today. I have the documents here for your signature’ – he slid an A4 sheet of paper towards each of them – ‘with the disclaimer being that if you decide to contest his will, and pursue assets granted to your stepmother, you will forfeit the proceeds from the Scottish properties and retain only the cash sum as decreed by Scottish law. If you accept his terms, then the proceeds of the property will be transferred to you on conclusion of the sale.’
Lachlan had to supress an urge to laugh. Clever old Dad. He would have known that Jason would come for blood and make life miserable for Demi, so he’d put a safeguard in place. Lachlan knew he should perhaps feel slighted too, but he stuck to his earlier position – it was his dad’s money to do with as he pleased. He didn’t even have to think about it. He reached forward, took one of the pens that were in the centre of the table. ‘Sounds fine to me.’
‘Lachlan, don’t…’ Jason blurted, but Lachlan ignored him and signed on the dotted line before sliding the document back to the lawyer.
‘Your father said you would do this,’ Jeremy said, with a faint smile and maybe a touch of affection.
‘He was usually right,’ Lachlan replied. ‘Are we done here?’
