The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [6]
"Oh, right. You've been here before. Well, he was about to leave, and he hates to see anyone without an appointment. But since he made me take a short lunch today, I think we could impose on him a little." She let out a mischievous giggle and then whispered, "Besides, I don't think he's actually doing anything except reading a magazine."
We followed her toward a closed door. She gave a couple of short knocks and then opened it. A man in a white shirt and tie threw down the magazine he was reading and stood up.
"Some clients to see you, Mr. Palmer," said the red-haired lady.
"What? I, uh ... It's almost five. What's this about?" he stammered, trying very hard to remember something.
"You've been helping me with my will, remember?" Mrs. Nelson cut in.
"Oh, yes, that's right. I thought we'd finished that. Have you changed your mind already?"
Mr. Palmer was still standing behind his desk when Mrs. Nelson sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of it.
"This will just take a minute. Let me introduce you to my neighbor Jackson," she said, gesturing toward me.
Mr. Palmer stuck out a soft, chubby hand, and I shook it cautiously. "Pleased to meet you," he said automatically.
I suddenly felt very underdressed and realized I was the only one wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
"Well, I guess you might as well sit down for a minute," said Mr. Palmer as he sunk back into his chair with a defeated look.
"I'll just be back at my desk," called the red-haired lady as she backed out of the office with a big smile.
"Thank you," Mr. Palmer replied sarcastically. He turned toward Mrs. Nelson and asked, "Okay, what can I do for you?"
"Jackson and I have made an agreement we want to formalize," she began, and then she described our conversations from the past two days. Mr. Palmer's expression turned from bored to confused.
"Let me get this straight. You want to give Jackson the orchard property, so you want me to change your will? Just a week ago all of it was going to your son."
"Oh, I'm not giving Jackson the orchard. He's going to earn it. Well, that is if he can keep his part of our agreement and show he's the true heir. You know, like I explained," she responded, getting excited.
"You want me to take the orchard out of the will so you can maybe give it to Jackson?" he asked, growing frustrated.
"Well, I guess you should do that, too, but I also want you to draw up a formal agreement between Jackson and me. Like a contract that says if he does so-and-so, I do such-and-such."
The top of Mr. Palmer's bald head began to turn red. "I've got to tell you, Mrs. Nelson, this is highly unorthodox. Certainly not the kind of thing with which I am typically involved."
"It is unusual, maybe, but we already agreed. So if you would just please write something down that we could sign, we could then leave you alone."
Mr. Palmer looked like he wanted to yell at or maybe even kick someone. He looked at me, and I thought he had chosen his target. "And you want to do this? Sign your name to something and all that?" he asked, glaring at me.
"That's what we agreed to," I answered weakly, and shrugged my shoulders.
"Oh, all right! Jean, get in here," he called toward the door.
The red-haired lady walked in instantly, as if she had been standing just outside the door. She was holding a pad of paper and had a big grin on her face. Mr. Palmer began to recite some words that sounded very official in phrases like "it is agreed between the two parties." Mrs. Nelson would frequently interrupt him to correct details of the contract.
"It's $8,000 earned from apple sales, Mr. Palmer. Make sure you put in 'within a single growing season' too."
Jean was writing furiously on her paper and giggled when Mrs. Nelson would say something. Finally, Mr. Palmer looked up some numbers off a document that sounded like they described where the orchard was located.
"Now go type that up quickly, Jean, so we can get out of here. Oh, yes, what's your last name, Jackson?"
"Jones," I said, as Jean hurried out of the room to her typewriter.