One-Way True Daughter Comes Home

Chapter 4 The Trust

The lawyer's name was Mr. Adair. He was seventy, with a voice like a paper bag, and he had been Margaret Calder's attorney for thirty years.

"Ms. Calder," he said. "I was wondering when you'd call."

"I need to know exactly what the trust says," I said. "Not the summary. The language."

"Of course." I heard papers rustling. "The trust was established eleven years ago. It grants to any biological child of Graham Calder, identified by DNA testing, a distribution of four hundred thousand dollars, held in a separate account, to be released upon the child's twenty-fifth birthday."

I was twenty-four.

"It also grants," Mr. Adair continued, "the right to reside in the property at 18 Pelican Bluff Road for a period of one year, if the child chooses, with expenses paid by the estate."

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

"That's not in the summary I got," I said.

"No. The summary was incomplete. I sent the full document to your address last week. You should have it."

I had not checked my mail. I had left too fast.

"So I have the right to live here," I said.

"Until your twenty-fifth birthday. And you are entitled to the four hundred thousand dollars on that date, regardless of whether or not you choose to live here."

I looked out the window. Delia was in the garden, walking with a man I did not recognize, pointing at the hedges.

"Does Delia know this?" I asked.

"Delia has seen the trust," Mr. Adair said. "She knows the terms. She has known for two years. She has been attempting to challenge the trust in court, but the challenge was dismissed last month."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because, Ms. Calder, you are the only person in that house who has nothing to gain by hiding it."

I thanked him and hung up. Then I went downstairs and found Delia in the garden.

She saw me coming and smiled. "Rachel. Come meet Peter. He's with the foundation."

Peter was tall, blond, and handsome. He shook my hand. "Rachel Calder. I've heard a lot about you."

"All good, I hope."

Peter laughed. Delia's smile stayed in place.

"Peter," Delia said, "Rachel and I need to talk for a minute. Would you excuse us?"

Peter walked back toward the house. Delia turned to me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The trust," I said. "The one you told me was small."

Delia's expression did not change. "The trust is small. Four hundred thousand is not a lot in this family."

"It's a lot to me."

"I'm sure it is." She tilted her head. "But you didn't come here for four hundred thousand dollars, Rachel. You came here for a family. Don't confuse the two."

"I didn't confuse anything," I said. "But I need to know something. Why did you tell the reporter that I was confused and taking advantage of Graham?"

Delia looked at me. For a second, her face was open. Then it closed.

"Because I was scared," she said. "I've been in this family since I was three years old. Graham adopted me. I have been a Calder longer than you have been alive. And then you showed up, and suddenly everyone was asking if I was really his daughter."

"You were adopted," I said. "That's not a secret."

"No. But it's a question." Delia's voice dropped. "When Margaret wrote that trust, she was sending a message. She was saying that blood matters more than anything I did or said or built in this house. She was saying that I was never really a Calder."

I looked at her. For the first time, I saw something other than calculation. I saw fear.

"I can't fix that," I said. "But you can't fix it by lying about me."

Delia's eyes flashed. "I didn't lie. I said what I believed."

"Then tell the reporter you were wrong."

Delia's jaw tightened. "And why would I do that?"

"Because it's the truth," I said. "And because you said you wanted a fresh start."

Delia stared at me. Then she laughed. It was a short, hard laugh.

"You want me to go on the record and say I was wrong about you," she said. "You want me to look like the crazy one."

"I want you to be honest," I said. "That's all."

Delia turned and walked back toward the house. She did not answer.

That night, I called Elena again.

"She won't do it," Elena said.

"She might."

"Rachel. She's not going to admit she lied. That's not how these people work."

"I know."

"So what are you going to do?"

I looked at the letter from Mr. Adair. I had found it in my bag. I had read it three times.

"I'm staying," I said. "Until my birthday. And then I'm taking the trust and walking away."

"You don't want the family?"

I thought about Mrs. Pruitt. I thought about the pork tenderloin. I thought about the way Delia looked at me when she thought I was not watching.

"I don't want this one," I said.

The next day, the reporter called me back.