Chapter 19

Forrester

Forrester sat in the dusty lawyer’s office and tried not to think about any of the reasons he was there. Places like this made him nervous. His father’s death made him nervous. The will, well, he had no experience with wills, but he was pretty sure that if he thought about it too much, it would make him nervous too. His father had been a grade-A asshole. There was every chance that the old bastard had slipped some final insult into the will, and Forrester didn’t relish the prospect of finding out what it was.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Chapman, Forrester’s father’s attorney said. He took his seat behind his desk. His chair was large and soft, upholstered with polished leather. Forrester’s seat was a simpler thing, more like a dining room chair.

“You want some coffee, son?” Chapman said.

Forrester had noticed that everyone connected to the father’s death so far had referred to him as son, as if they were trying to make up for the shortcomings of the one man who should have called him that.

“No thanks,” Forrester said.

He didn’t mean to be short, he had nothing against Chapman, who for all intents and purposes seemed to be a perfectly fair-minded lawyer. He just didn’t want to draw out the reading of the old man’s will.

“All right then, I suppose we should get started.”

“Yes, let’s.”

Chapman pulled out a sheaf of documents that included old letters, legal papers, government forms, and of course, the will.

“I’ve read this will of course,” Chapman began. “In fact, I drafted it for your father and I can attest to the fact that he was of sound mind when he drew it up.”

“Good for him,” Forrester said.

“You should know that with your father’s property, his investments, and the sale of some annuities a few years back, he had a sizable estate. At last reckoning, it was valued at over half a million dollars. It would likely be a little higher now with the way property and stock prices have gone.”

“I don’t want it,” Forrester said.

Chapman paused. “Well,” he said, “the thing is, as the only living relative, your father left it all to you by default.”

“I just said I don’t want it.”

“I heard you,” Chapman said, “and naturally, I’d have to honor any wishes you had regarding the money, especially if you didn’t want it. There are rules in place for such eventualities. Plus, I’m sure there are a wealth of worthy causes we could think of together for making a donation.”

“I don’t care what you do with it,” Forrester said. “I don’t want it.”

“I’ll give you a little time to reflect,” Chapman said. “I understand this can be a very trying time.”

“Give me as long as you want. My answer won’t change.”

“Need I remind you that half a million dollars can make a big difference in the life of a man your age, son. You could start a family, a business.”

“Listen. I’ve got nothing against you. You seem like a good lawyer. But I’ve got a whole lot of resentment built up against the man that should have been my father. I don’t expect you to understand that, sir, but I’m telling you right now, I’d sooner die in a puddle of piss than take a dime from that old man.”

“I see,” Chapman said. “Well, on a personal note, I can tell you that I can fully respect a sentiment such as that. I represented your father in legal matters for a long time, but I’d never claim to stand by the things he did in his life. The way he treated you, and your poor mother.”

Forrester didn’t want to be rude, but he cut Chapman off in mid sentence. “Get rid of the money. Give it to a charity that looks out for women in my mother’s position. If you draw something up, I’ll sign it. Other than that, is there any reason we can’t end this meeting right here and now?”

“Well,” Chapman said, stalling for time while he thought of the words he wanted. “There is another little matter. A detail, if you will.”

“A detail?”

“Yes, a detail.”

“What is it?”

Chapman opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an envelope. “This,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a letter.”

“From my father?”

“Yes, he wanted you to have it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“I have to pass it on to you.”

“I don’t want it,” Forrester said firmly.

“Just take it,” Chapman said, sliding it across his desk. “Don’t read it if you don’t want it. But I’m under an obligation to see that you receive it. I can’t release the funds to you, or to the charity of your choice, until I’ve delivered that letter.”

“I really don’t want it,” Forrester said, looking Chapman in the eye.

“You’d be making my life a whole lot easier, son, if you just took it. You have no idea of the paperwork involved with an unclaimed estate.”

Reluctantly, Forrester reached across the desk and grabbed the envelope. He crushed it into his pocket and stood up.

“And that’s it?” he said.

“That’s it for now,” Chapman said. “I’ll draw up the paperwork to give the estate to charity, as you’ve requested, and I’ll get everything ready for you.”

Forrester nodded and walked to the door. Before opening it he paused and turned back to the lawyer.

“Sorry to be such a pain. I know it’s not your fault. I just really didn’t see eye to eye with the old man.”

He opened the door and left before Chapman could say anything.

Chapman’s law office was on Main Street and Forrester left his truck where it was and walked toward the diner. As he crossed the street and entered the diner parking lot, he saw a heavily muscled guy with broad shoulders and dark stubble come out of the restaurant. He looked furious, and as he approached Forrester, he seemed to be squaring up for a fight.

“What are you looking at, dip shit?” the guy said.

Forrester looked him in the eye but said nothing. Life was too short to be getting in a fight with every lowlife that took it upon himself to try and cause trouble. He walked right past the guy, who watched him like a hawk. The guy was mad, and Forrester wondered why. He looked around and saw no one. The man had just been in the diner. Something must have happened in there. All he could think about was Elle.

“Hey,” the guy said. “I’m talking to you, fuck head.”

Forrester sighed. He stopped walking and turned back to the guy.

“You from this town?” Forrester said.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not,” the guy said.

“But you came into this diner to cause trouble?”

“I cause trouble wherever the fuck I want.”

Forrester took a step toward him. The guy sized him up and immediately did the math. He took a step backward. Forrester had the look of a fighter, and the guy wanted no part of it.

“Not in this diner you don’t,” Forrester said. “I see you in here looking for trouble again, and you won’t walk out. You’ll leave on a stretcher.”

Forrester wasn’t in the mood for talking to the guy, and he wasn’t in the mood for wasting time. He turned his back on him without waiting for a reply, and stepped into the diner.