Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [43]
Stan looked at Bill Kaufmann, who avoided his gaze and stared silently out of the window. It was fucking amazing, thought Stan, how fascinating that ocean was today.
“Stan, my mother was a very rich woman,” said India, trying hard to be calm and matter-of-fact. “Surely part of her fortune was tied up in secure investments and legitimate property? This house, for instance, must be worth a lot of money now.”
“Your mother bought this house twenty years ago for seventy thousand dollars. With the spiraling property values in Los Angeles over the past few years, it’s now worth four million.”
Paris felt relief sweep through her; of course, there was still the house left—and the one on North Canyon Drive in Beverly Hills. “Thank God,” she said. “I thought you were going to tell us it was all gone.”
Stan cleared his throat again. “The house was mortgaged by Jenny three years ago, and a second mortgage was taken out last year. I’m sorry, Paris, but in effect this house belongs to the First National and City Bank. It’s the same story with the Beverly Hills house.”
Tears trembled on Paris’s lashes as her future receded even farther down a dark tunnel.
“Perhaps it would be better if you told us exactly what there is left,” said India. “Then at least we’ll know where we stand.”
Stan put down the papers and folded his arms, giving them the benefit of his best courtroom pose of sympathy. “Very well, girls. This is it. The houses and their contents will have to be sold to repay the banks and certain other debts. The rest of Jenny’s investments are worthless. What comes to you intact is an insurance policy that she took out when she was seventeen. It must have seemed like a lot of money to Jenny then…. The amount is ten thousand dollars.”
“Ten thousand!”
India ignored the horrified gasp from Paris. Getting up from the sofa she began to pace the floor—it seemed easier to take things standing up; it was obvious someone had better face up to this squarely, and as Venetia seemed to be stunned into silence and Paris was on the verge of becoming hysterical, it had better be her.
“I see. And what about the cars—the Rolls and”—she remembered too late that the Mercedes had been wrecked—“and the jewelry? Jenny had so many beautiful pieces.”
“I’m afraid whatever’s left will have to go; she’d borrowed so much, y’know, this past year. And now that she’s dead the creditors are nervous—and impatient.”
“If only we’d known,” said Venetia, suddenly emerging from her trancelike state, “we could have helped her. Why didn’t someone tell us? You, Bill, you knew!”
“I didn’t, kitten! I swear I didn’t. I knew she and her boyfriend were speculating on the property market, but who wasn’t? I promise you, girls, I had no idea of the extent of it.”
“She told no one.” Stan Reubin paced the floor as if he were prowling a courtroom looking for loopholes in the defense. “It’s in the past, girls, you’ve got to face it. Jenny left you exactly ten thousand dollars.” He paused and faced them, hands behind his back, brows lowered in a benevolent scowl. “However, there’s no reason for you to worry about the debts. Money’s tight this year, what with the pressure on tax shelters and expenses being so high, but Bill and I have agreed to waive any money owed to us by Jenny’s estate. And naturally there will be no charge for my services.”
He paced the length of the room and then swiveled on his heel and faced them, smiling. “It’s not easy getting your hands on cash these days, but if you ever needed a few hundred, we’d see what we could do.”
Paris felt certain that no one on earth would ever know what an effort it cost her to keep her voice even when she wanted to kill Stan Reubin.
“Stan, Bill, we appreciate your offer—as old friends of our mother. But you see, Jenny gave us everything she felt we would ever need. She decided long ago we must make it on our own, just the way she did. It’s what she wanted and we three will abide by her wishes.”
She glared coldly at the two men who had called