"To my youngest daughter, Breeta, who, until she left home in a fury two years ago, was my favorite, my little Banba-I'm sure I'm not telling my other two something they didn't know-I leave nothing. She said she despised my money, and so she gets none of it." Breeta said nothing, only bending, perhaps to hide her face, to pick up the tortoise as he began to amble under her chair. She sat stroking its little head as if this was the only thing in the world there was to do.
"I have settled upon what I hope is a generous sum for the staff of Second Chance. In addition, I have made arrangements for a monthly stipend to be paid to Michael Davis, if he agrees to go back to finish his schooling. I sincerely hope he will take me up on my offer and make something of himself. He has eased the burden of the last few weeks for me considerably." All eyes turned to Michael, none that I could see friendly. Michael looked charmingly grateful for his good fortune, but his furrowed brow indicated he wasn't sure how he'd eased Eamon's burden.
"Rose Cottage, its contents, and the land on which it sits, I leave to Alex Stewart of Toronto, who I hope is here today. It is Alex who gave me my second chance which, despite everything, I am grateful for, no matter what I said at the time, and while he has refuse my offer of compensation during my lifetime, I hope he will accept this now. Rose Cottage has been a place of great pleasure to me, and I hope that Alex will enjoy it too."
Rose Cottage, I thought. Not quite the small fortune I'd had in mind for Alex, perhaps. He certainly looked somewhat taken aback by the notion. I had a sudden vision of a stone cottage, its front yard ablaze with flowers, a miniature version of the grounds at Second Chance. Roses in profusion, that was its name after all. White and pink, I decided, ramping up trellises, arching over the entrance way. A thatched roof, of course. Inside, whitewashed walls and dark, exposed beams, a huge stone fireplace, logs blazing, a carved wooden swan on the mantelpiece. Huge comfy sofas, down-filled, perhaps, covered in chintz in what? A soft, hazy green? Celadon, perhaps? No, wait, rose, dusty rose. It would have to be rose. But large and soft and squishy. Sofas to sink way down into, a good book and a glass of sherry at hand. Alex would have to modernize the kitchen and plumbing, no doubt, but that would be fine. I'd help him. And there'd be a shortage of closets, but I'd ship over a couple of antique armoires from the store as a present. Minor details. In short, it was perfect. The floors would probably need refinishing, wide planks, stained dark, with area rugs, dhurries, I'd think, that would pick up the rose, with the celadon and cream…
My mental excursion through the ozone was disturbed by the crackle of psychic tension in the room. When I came to, as it were, Margaret was so tense that cords stood out on her neck, and even from the back I could tell her jaw was rather firmly clenched. Breeta sobbed just once, out loud. Her older sisters' shoulders were hunched up to their ears. As Eamon spoke about Alex, the anger in the room, kept in check so f threatened to boil over. They may not have been too thrilled about Michael's good fortune, but Alex's, forsome reason, really bothered them.
The face, undeterred, stopped only for a moment t sip liquid through a straw. "There is one other perso who may be here, but who, fearing the wrath of my family, may send a representative instead." The hag; turned and looked at the lawyer seated to our right. He nodded and smiled somewhat less than pleasantly in their direction.
"I have, with regret, acceded to my family's wishes and have left nothing for Padraig Gilhooly in my estate." The lawyer, who I surmised was representing this Gilhooly fellow, whoever he was, frowned; Margaret's back relaxed a little. The face continued. "I want Padraig to know that nothing would have made me happier than to have him accepted in our household. Perhaps he will sue for a share of the estate. It is one of the benefits of being dead that I will not have to deal with this. I leave that family squabble and all the others I have had to endure, to the living.
"It is a source of considerable pain to me that there is so much strife in this family. In an effort to address this, even in death, I have designed an exercise that will require you to work together." Shoulders stiffened all around the room.
"As unorthodox as this may be, I have some hope for it, the foolish optimism of a dying man, if you will. I have asked that after the Will is read, McCafferty and McGIynn give each of you an envelope. These two legal bookends have objected, of course, that this is not appropriate. Their protestations, mild as they were, were intended no doubt to protect their backsides should anything untoward occur, while still permitting them to collect the additional fee they require for this endeavor. They are too accustomed to the lush lifestyle of St. Stephen's Green to refuse my request, particularly when I told them I would find other executors for my estate if they did so.
"In each of the envelopes, there is a clue that, taken with the others, will lead to something of great value. One clue in itself will not get you there. Some lead to information about the object itself; others point to its location. In other words, to find it, you must work together. I am not trying to be even remotely subtle about this. If you need a reason to participate, let me remind you of what I have already said. For some of you there is nothing from me on my death, for others, not as much as they might like. Those who have received something of value from me may well find that what I have left you has become worthless. This object has, if you find it, sufficient value to help you all. I would urge you to learn to work and live in harmony. I very much doubt that you will be able to do so, but I sincerely hope you will prove me wrong. If you do not, then something truly remarkable and priceless will remain hidden, possibly forever. That is all I have to say."
With that, the face raised one hand in what could be interpreted as a gesture of dismissal, either for the cameraman or all of us. The camera drew back from the face slightly to reveal yet more tubes and hospital paraphernalia, rows of pill bottles on a bedside table. From Byrne there came no expressions of affection, not even a good-bye, just the picture of a dying man lying there, lines of pain etched into his face, slowly fading to black.
For a minute or two, we all sat looking at the blank screen as we contemplated the last words of Eamon Byrne, no sound save a vague hiss from the television the ticking of a clock in the hall, a muffled call of bird the rustle of palm fronds, and somewhere far away, faint roar of a wind-swept sea.
Breeta bestirred herself first. "Effing brill, Da," si sighed, hoisting herself out of the chair and heading for the door. "Just effing brill."
"What does effing brill mean?" Alex, looking pe plexed, whispered to me, as we watched Breeta's exit.
"I think the second word is 'brilliant,' and the first begins with an f," I whispered back.
Alex looked over at Breeta's rather large departir rear and shook his head disapprovingly. I stifled smile. Alex was, for many years, a purser in the me chant marine, no less, but I have never heard an ol scenity pass his lips, nor have I ever heard him swea I, on the other hand… But so much for stereotypes.
Tweedledee nervously cleared his throat as a sign; that the more formal part of the proceedings was begin. "Most unusual," he began. "I suppose it is necessary for Miss Breeta Byrne to attend?" he said, looling over at Tweedledum.
"Highly unusual. Should be here," Tweedledum replied. Tweedledee shuffled papers uncomfortably for moment or two, as Deirdre pulled open the curtains, could see Breeta heading down through the garden toward the sea.
"May I suggest we all take a short break," Tweec ledum said. "Perhaps Deirdre," he said, turning to th maid, "you would bring us some fresh tea, and M Davis," he said, thinking better than to ask John to d anything too taxing, seeing as how he'd backed out ( the room several times during the proceedings, "yo might go and ask Miss Byrne to oblige us by returnin to the house."