Legacy

Ted Pierce entered the country club his father had belonged to most of his life. He looked around, unimpressed.

Looks like any old country club to me. He kept inviting me. For what? Glad I didn’t waste my time.

A staff assistant approached.

“Mr. Pierce?”

Ted nodded.

“Sorry for your loss.”

“It’s alright. Better late than never…”

The staff assistant nodded and did not comment. “Come with me. The others are in the conference room awaiting your arrival. Mr. Woodrow will read your father’s will in a few minutes.”

Ted gestured at their surroundings. “So, this is it? Heard so much about it for years. Somehow, doesn’t live up to the hype.”

“Your father spent a lot of time here. He loved it.”

“Of course… He would.”

They reached the conference room. A waiter standing outside the door, nodded to Ted.

He said, “My condolences… Is there anything you need? A refreshment, while the will is read?”

“A glass of your best Scotch.”

“The 1926 Macallan Adami. Yes sir.”

“That will do…”

The assistant opened the door, and Ted entered. Large glass doors looked out over the eighteenth green. A massive fireplace, adorned with golf trophies dominated one wall.

Ted’s sister, Gail, her husband, Sam McKenzie, and their three children sat on either side of the long table. Mr. Woodrow, the executor, sat at the head.

Ted wore his signature tan slacks, matching sport coat and no tie. Seeing his family sitting around the table, he felt underdressed.

Not the end of the world, but…

Dressing for the occasion, the McKenzie couple wore mourning black. Their boys, Fred, 17, and Kelsey, 8, wore ties. Drew, 10, looked like a ring bearer for a wedding.

Kelsey said, “Hi Uncle Ted…”

He nodded and smiled. “Hi, everyone… I see my ex didn’t make it.”

Everyone looked at him. Would there be a punchline?

He continued. “Just as well… I take it she’s not named in…”

Gail said, “And there’s nothing much to throw…”

The waiter brought Ted’s scotch on a tray. Taking it, he toasted the group. “To you all…”

He tasted it and shut his eyes. “Hmmm… this is fantastic. I’ll have another.”

The waiter nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Wait. Bring the bottle. Save running back and forth.” The waiter bowed slightly and exited.

Ted shook hands with everyone.

Taking his seat, Ted said, “Never seen so many kids at…”

Gail clarified. “They’re named in the will. And were on time.”

Mr. Woodrow introduced himself and said, “Glad you could make it. We won’t delay further. I will read your father’s instructions…” He drank some water and began. “I, Virgil Pierce, residing at my family home on Pierce Court, in Boniface, California, declare this is my Last Will and Testament. I hereby revoke all prior wills and codicils in my name."

Ted murmured, “Cut to the chase…”

The waiter returned with the bottle of scotch and set it on the table. Ted downed the first glass and poured himself another.

Mr. Woodrow read on, assigning Virgil Pierce’s collections and possessions to his children and grandchildren. The collection of Native American arrowheads went to Gail’s son, Fred.

Everyone present received at least one of Virgil’s many possessions. Only Ted was not named. As Mr. Woodrow read, Ted would lean forward. Each time his name was not mentioned, he settled into his chair and nursed his scotch.

An antique tea set that Gail played with when she was a girl, went to Gail’s daughter, Drew.

She squealed to her mother, “We’ll have a grand tea party!”

Ted murmured, “I’ll be the Mad Hatter.”

Kelsey, got the vast collections of vinyl records, postage stamps, and baseball cards.

He also inherited a finely crafted, mahogany, rocking horse. The dark, varnished, carved wood made it more a work of art than a toy.

Ted set his scotch down. “That’s an antique. The kid’ll just break it… Hey, Kelsey, I’ll give you fifty bucks. You can have it back when I kick it.”

Kelsey looked at his mother.

She said, “Right, Ted. If you haven’t sold it for a grand.”

Ted persisted. “Aren’t you too old for a hobby horse?”

The boy stood his ground. “If I am, why do you want it?”

Not answering, Ted poured another drink.

Mr. Woodrow read on. "I give and bequeath my 1963 Corvette, to my grandson, Fred McKenzie."

The young man high-fived his father.

Ted sighed. “Don’t wrap that around a tree, kid. I learned to drive in it.”

Gail said, “We all did, Ted. Including Fred. He’ll be fine.”

Fred said, “Grandpa bought it new.”

Ted said, “Wonder how many clutches it’s had? I know I’m responsible for two.”

Gail added, “He sold off his other cars last year.”

Ted shook his head. “Damn shame.”

Mr. Woodrow continued down the list. "I give and bequeath my book collection to the Boniface Country club."

Gail said, “They’ll have to build a wing to house them.”

Ted murmured, “Dust collectors. He always bragged about owning at least a dozen antique bibles. No evidence he ever read one. Just talked about how old they were.”

Gail said, “Maybe the club will give you one for safe keeping…”

Mr. Woodrow read, "I give and bequeath any furniture and décor, not previously mentioned, to my daughter, Gail. She may use or dispose of as she sees fit.

Gail laughed. “The paintings, the Rembrandt, Bruegel, Picasso… They’re all copies, commissioned by Dad. Well, you know his humor. His face appears in several of them. Sometimes more than once.”

Everyone but Ted laughed. He poured himself another. He said, “Egotist.”

Gail said, “But the frames are worth a fortune.”

Ted said, “I’ll take them.”

Gail smiled. “Not necessary…”

Ted said, “Excuse me… Why am I here? Am I mentioned in this thing at all?”

Mr. Woodrow said, “Please be patient, sir. I assure you; you are included. The final declarations are coming up.”

Mr. Woodrow made a note and suggested taking a break before reading the final entries. He excused himself and left the room.

Pointing at the bottle of scotch, Ted signaled the waiter who stepped forward.

“What’s it worth?”

The waiter said, “One bottle reportedly sold for over two million…”

“Dollars?”

He nodded.

Ted pondered for a moment. “That’s about fifty grand per shot.”

The waiter shrugged.

Ted said, “This is on the estate, right?”

The waiter nodded.

Ted stared at the ceiling for a minute. He addressed his family. “Do you realize, I just drank half a million dollars’ worth of scotch…?”

Gail said, “With rounding.”

Sam said, “That’s a serious thirst.”

Ted laughed, “You want some?”

Sam said, “No thanks... Did you like it before you knew its cost?”

“Loved it. Best ever… Drank most of it before I knew.”

Kelsey asked, “Uncle Ted, can I have a sip?”

“No.”

Ted refreshed his glass.

Drew asked, “Is it too late to tell grandpa I’d love a million dollars?”

Ted smiled at the girl. “Our dear departed is unavailable for comment, Drew. But I think you’ve accurately assessed and read most of our minds. Paying attention like that, young lady, will ensure you a bright future.”

Drew smiled and whispered into her Barbie’s ear.

Mr. Woodrow returned to his place at the head of the table. The next entry named Ted and his inheritance.

Everyone stared at the bottle of scotch standing on the table, about two-thirds full.

Ted addressed the waiter. “This bottle is open.”

“Yes sir.”

“But I was bequeathed a full bottle.”

“Yes sir. This one.”

“I wasn’t drinking from my inheritance.”

“You asked me to open it…”

“Stop that. What’s the damned will say again?”

Mr. Woodrow cleared his throat. “It says, and I quote, ‘to my son, Ted Pierce, I bequeath my treasured bottle of 1926 Macallan Adami. That, or the balance of what he has not consumed during this will’s reading.”

Everyone looked at Ted.

“Is this a joke?”

Mr. Woodrow replied, “It’s your father’s will. I have signatures from three witnesses.”

“And that’s it? Nothing else? A half bottle of booze?”

“Worth upwards and over…”

“I get that… I can’t sell it now. Might as well drink it all and drive off a cliff.”

The waiter leaned forward. “Sir, I wish you wouldn’t...”

Ted turned on him. “You’re a waiter. What do you know?”

The waiter said nothing.

“Did you know about this? You knew, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t. How could I?

“A bit slow on the uptake? You served me half a million dollars’ worth of scotch without batting an eye. You stupid? Or what?”

“No, sir…”

“Why are you a waiter? Are you a college graduate stuck, looking for a better job?”

“No, sir.”

“No… Too old for that… Get out of here.”

The waiter turned to leave.

Mr. Woodrow said, “Actually, waiter? Could you wait a few moments? We’re not done. I need you to stay.”

The waiter stopped. Awaiting further orders, he stood beside the door to the conference room.

Ted slurred. “I’m done with him. Anyone want a drink before I have him fired?”

No one spoke.

Ted continued his rant. “Who would pay a million bucks for a bottle of hootch?”

Gail tried not to laugh. “I can think of someone…”

Trying not to laugh, Sam drank from his glass of water.

Mr. Woodrow spoke. “We’re almost finished. May we continue? The last item in the will is for Leandro Wilson. Is he here?

Hearing his name, the waiter stepped forward. “That’s me.”

Ted said, “What kind of name is Leandro? Think you’re in a Shakespeare play?”

“My name was called. Do you mind?”

Mr. Woodrow said, “Everyone please sit. Let’s finish our task. When that’s done, you can take your disputes outside.”

Mr. Woodrow picked up the document and found his place. “To my friend, Leandro Wilson, I bequeath the balance of my fortune, after all remaining debts and taxes have been paid by my estate. Anything I own at my death, not already assigned and granted to my family, I now bestow on you, my faithful friend over many years. You served me well Leandro. You deserve the best of life. May you live it to the fullest with all my blessings.”

No one moved. No one spoke. The kids tried to make themselves invisible.

Gail said, “Well… Wow… Are we done? Is that it?”

Mr. Woodrow read the final direction that expenses and taxes be paid by Vincent’s estate. He said, “I have copies for everyone. Your signatures on my copy are my only requirement. Good day.”

Looking defeated, Ted looked at Leandro. He touched the bottle with his glass.

“Congratulations. Buy you a drink? It’s the best scotch you’ll ever drink.”

“Thank you. But no.”

“You’re kidding. You hit the lottery, man. Celebrate.”

“I can’t. Still on the clock. Don’t drink on the job.”

“You’ve got it made, man. You don’t need this…” He gestured to the room.

Leandro smiled. “I know. Someday, I might sit on the veranda, puffing a cigar, watching golfers perfect their putts. But today, they need me. I have a job to do.”

The rest of the family moved to leave.

Leandro asked them, “Anything else I can get you while you’re here?”

Smiling, Gail and Sam stepped up to him. She said, “My dad talked about you often. He truly admired you. We wish you well.”

She took Sam’s arm. They led their children out.

Mr. Woodrow had gathered his papers and stood by the door. He offered his hand to Leandro.

“You have a bright future, young man. Take my card. Should you ever need guidance...?”

Leandro took the card, shook his hand and Mr. Woodrow left.

Ted swayed a little, not sure what he should do. Leandro turned to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. But I do have a question. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“You knew my father pretty well, I guess?”

Leandro nodded.

Ted choked back tears. Leandro pulled up a chair for him.

Composing himself, Ted said, “What was he like?”