Chapters (69)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
Stone spent the rest of the day returning phone calls, catching up on paperwork with Allison, and replying to letters of condolence, including one from Herbie Fisher that was more legibly handwritten than Stone would have expected. “How’s it going with Herbie?” he asked Allison.
“We’re seeing a lot of each other,” she said.
“Why don’t you take over his legal work?”
“If he has no objection,” she said.
“I don’t think he’ll have any objection,” Stone replied. “Don’t fill out a Woodman & Weld timesheet for that; Herbie is a special case. Give Joan your hours, and she’ll handle it.”
Stone made omelets for dinner for himself and Peter, and they went to bed early.
The following morning they met with a cabinetmaker to look at the plans Peter had drawn for his study, then they walked up to the Seagram Building to see Bill Eggers in his office, where a table had been prepared for them before the fireplace.
They finished lunch, then Stone took Arrington’s will from his briefcase and handed it to Eggers. “Here’s the original,” he said. “Peter, your mother met with Bill to draw up her will, then I sealed it and put it in my safe.”
“That’s true, Peter,” Eggers said. “Stone didn’t want to have knowledge of her estate planning, and he asked for nothing.”
“I understand,” Peter said solemnly.
Eggers broke the seal on the envelope and opened it. “Most of it is boilerplate,” he said. “Peter, that’s just necessary legalese. Your mother left substantial sums to a dozen charities, coming to about twenty million dollars, but the heart of the will is what she bequeathed to you and your father.”
Peter nodded.
“Stone, she left you approximately half of her liquid assets and the Bel-Air property. That’s it. Peter, she left you the remainder of her estate—a little more than half of the total, including the Virginia property and horse farm and all the Centurion Studios stock.”
“Wow,” Peter said softly.
“Because of your youth, all this was left to you in trust. Do you understand what a trust is?”
“I think so,” Peter replied. “It means that someone will be in charge until I reach a predetermined age, and I won’t be able to draw money from the trust or sell any property unless the trustees agree.”
“That’s correct,” Eggers said. “Your mother felt strongly that you should not have unrestricted access to your inheritance until you are thirty-five years old, perhaps earlier, if the trustee agrees.”
Peter nodded.
“Stone is the trustee, and should anything happen to him, I am his alternate. If something happens to me first, Stone will appoint my replacement.”