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.Obviously, at this time you are legally competent”He leaned forward.“But what if—what if, I ask—you were to suffer a relapse.Tomorrow, for instance.Who would be responsible for you?”“Legally, you mean?” She thought.“Well—sir, every day people suffer heart attacks or strokes that leave them helpless.”After a moment the judge smiled.“And of course no one is given legal responsibility for any of them, in advance.Miss Blake, you’ve made your point.”The gavel.* * * *August 7—144, and tomorrow Charles Blake, aged thirty-two and several times a millionaire, would arrive.He controlled the more than six million dollars he had built in ten years from the three million their parents had left them—but half was in trust for her.She could claim it.Reading the gray Xerox of the will, she could sense her parents’ stubborn, forlorn hope: “if at legal age or at any later time she is adjudged competent.” There were more qualifications, but that was the crucial clause.She memorized it.* * * *Charles, she decided, looked ten years older than his age because he worked at it.She guessed his executive-style glasses with their heavy black frames to be “window glass,” for appearance.Dark and stocky, he was at least an inch shorter than she.His obvious embarrassment blanketed any personality he might have displayed, except for his equally obvious resentment of Zumwalt’s presence.She tried at first to make some sort of polite conversation, but he was having none of that.Finally he said, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re up to, but one thing is clear.You are not my sister.” He looked at Zumwalt and at Dr.Phipps.“I suppose you’re all in on it.If I’d known what I was walking into, I’d have brought my own attorney.He’ll be here tomorrow.”“Fine,” said Melanie Blake.The more the merrier.” She stood and loomed above him where he sat.“And now tell me why I’m not your sister.Because my fingerprints, along with the ones on my birth certificate, say I am.”* * * *It went on and on.She had been willing to settle for half the original legacy, leaving to Charles all the increase he had wrought.Zumwalt had disagreed.“If you had been normal all your life you’d be entitled to your full share.Correct? Why should your previous disability make any difference?” She had been undecided, but now Charles’s attitude and behavior swung her to Zumwalt’s view.Argue-argue-argue— her brother was intolerable.But still she wanted an amicable settlement not a lawsuit Charles was holding forth nonstop; she cut into his Point Seven.“Charles! I do not intend to cause you any trouble.”“As I have said, it is impossible for me to liquidate enough assets to give you your so-called share, without—”“Goddamn it, shut up and listen!” And for a wonder, he did.“If you’ll just tum off your mouth for a minute—I’ve been trying to tell you—keep control; I won’t tamper.Mr.Zumwalt explained how under the terms of the wills you keep a sizable cash account in my name, to provide for my care and medical expenses.”He started to speak; she swiped a near-slap past his face.“All right, Charles.You haven’t touched that money for yourself; you can’t.I can use it for a drawing account, quite legally, for major expenses.Right?”She did not wait for an answer.“But I want an income, too, eventually.And the best way to get it—a way that will cost you nothing—is directly from the company you head.”“And just how do you suggest that I rob our company?”“Who said rob? I’m the second-largest shareholder.So appoint me to the next vacancy on the board of directors.”His mouth fell slack; then he said, “You’re not just retarded; you’re crazy.Put the competition on the board to fight me?”She sighed.“Businesswise you’re a genius, but with people you’re a klutz.No wonder you’ve been divorced three times [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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