Chapter 8
“Oh, this is just too melodramatic. I feel like Barbara Stanwyck, for Christ’s sake.” Ethan had done a maintenance line of Tina, and was feeling much closer to normal. Funny how it worked that way—what brought him low lifted him up again. It was almost spiritual.
Before him, spread out on the Aubusson rug, were several documents. The first one had very nearly given him heart failure and had almost made him shriek. It was all he could do not to rip up the legalese-scarred pages in a rage. That document was Robert’s will, which he had never seen. And which, he was dismayed to find, left nothing to him. No, the entire estate was left to two parties: some orphanage in Maine called St. Sophia and the rest to the AIDS Foundation of Chicago. Ethan snorted and thought maybe eventually,
