A Family Divided

by Tom Berreman

  “It’s my nephew from California,” she said. “I can’t imagine why he would call, but I’d better take it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Hey Ryan,” she said, then just listened.

  Jason heard a trace of her nephew’s voice in the earpiece, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. But he heard enough to sense an upset boy. He watched as a grim look came over Allison’s face, followed by a weak “Oh my God.”

  She shut her eyes and paused a moment before she spoke.

  “Ryan, let me think this through and make some calls. I’ll call you back soon,” she said, then after a moment replied “I love you too.”

  As she disconnected the call, she began to sob, burying her face in her hands. Jason stood, walked over to her and hugged her from behind. After a few minutes she sat up and wiped her eyes.

  “My sister Laura, and her husband Curt, were in a horrible car accident late yesterday, they are both comatose, kept alive by life support. But their chances of recovery are slim to none.”

  “Oh no,” Jason said, struggling with what else he could say to ease her pain. Her emotions took over, and she began to ramble.

  “I have to go to California. Ryan’s only fifteen, and Children’s Services has already told him he has to go with them. I can’t let that happen. Under my sister’s will I’m his legal guardian, but she’s not dead yet, so I don’t know what that means. She talked about a health care directive, but I don’t know if she ever signed one. But I don’t want to be the one to decide whether to keep her on life support. Oh Jason…, what do I do…, what do I do?” She laid her head onto her forearms crossed on the table and again began to sob.

  “You can start by taking a deep breath,” he said as he released his hug, pulled his chair close to her, sat and grasped her hand. He was thinking he wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how. “I agree, you need to go to California. But let’s talk this through.”

  “Okay,” she said, sniffling as she wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Why are you Ryan’s guardian, what about his biological father?”

  “I don’t know. Laura has always been secretive about Ryan’s father, and the line for father on his birth certificate is blank.”

  “Did Curt adopt Ryan?”

  “No, at least not that I know of. They married only three months ago, it’s her first, but his second.”

  “And does Ryan inherit everything from his mother if she dies?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Does Curt have children from his first marriage?”

  “Yeah, three adult children from his wife’s first marriage. Her husband was a cop killed in the line of duty, and Curt adopted them after they married.”

  “Yikes,” Jason said as he pondered the situation.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, nothing really. It’s just that three adopted children and a new stepson is ripe for a contentious resolution of Curt’s estate.”

  If they both die, he was about to say but thought better of it and stopped.

  “So, I need to find a lawyer when I get to California. Do you know anyone I could call?”

  “I have a few ideas, but I might need time to think it through, maybe make some calls. But for now, go back to your hotel, check in with your husband and let him know what happened. Then make arrangements to go to California.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I’ll figure out what your best way is to proceed, and we can talk later.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want me to walk you to your hotel?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll walk around the harbor first, the solitude might help me regroup.”

  She kissed him on the cheek and left.

  Jason walked over to the railing and stared out at the harbor, savoring the new lifestyle he had achieved. But was he willing to set it aside for several months to come to the aid of his former lover?

  He contemplated offering to join Allison in California. She needed legal advice dealing with her nephew’s situation, better if it came from a friend, not a stranger. A lot cheaper too.

  At Chatfield & Smythe, a large client insisted he first chair a lawsuit venued in California. If the opposition prevailed, it would decimate his client’s dominant position in the market, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  With no reciprocity recognizing his Minnesota or District of Columbia law license, he took the painful step of sitting for the California bar exam, the only way an out-of-state lawyer could obtain a license to practice in California courts. He passed the exam, barely scoring over the required passing percentage given his minimal test preparation.

  But spending six weeks during the trial in a La Jolla beach-side villa while dining at the finest restaurants, all on his client’s dime, helped ease the pain of sitting for the bar.

  He also considered how going to California to help a former lover might impact his relationship with Megan. What if the shoe were on the other foot?

  How would you feel if Megan spent six months in California with her former lover?

  He returned his gaze toward the lake, and a sloop similar to his leaving the harbor under full sail made him reconsider his decision.

  * * *

  “Hey,” Allison said as she opened her hotel room door. “Come in. You could have just called.”

  “I know. But I wanted to tell you in person I will go with you to California, to help you through the legal stuff. That is if your husband doesn’t mind.”

  “Oh Jason, you would do that for me?”

  Knowing it was a terrible idea, but too late to back out now, he responded “Of course.”

  * * *

  “Hi Ryan, it’s Aunt Allison. I’ve booked a flight to LAX Tuesday morning, I should be there by early afternoon. And a good friend agreed to come with me, I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s a lawyer, and he’ll help us sort through the legal stuff.”

  Chapter 15.

  “We’re up by three strokes,” Brent Jennings said to his partner as he and the rest of his foursome pulled their golf carts up to the clubhouse, taking a break after the front nine to grab a sandwich. Brent and his college buddies played golf at the country club every Sunday morning.

  “And I’m sure we’ll clean up on the back nine,” his partner said as he stepped out of the cart and walked toward the clubhouse to use the restroom.

  Waiting for the cart side server Brent checked his phone to find half a dozen voicemails from a number he didn’t recognize. He assumed it was a telemarketer but listened to the first just to make sure. His cell phone speaker broadcast the terrible news.

  This is Pacific Community Hospital contacting you as one of Curtis Jennings’ emergency contacts. Mr. Jennings was in a serious automobile accident late yesterday and is in critical condition.

  He disconnected the call without listening to the rest of the message. Ignoring the server who had just approached his cart with their sandwiches he turned and sped toward his car in the parking lot. His partner would find the cart with both sets of clubs in the back and the key in the ignition.

  * * *

  Brent sat alone in the intensive care unit’s family room, waiting for the doctor to give him an update on his father’s condition. A faint antiseptic odor swirled in the air, and the bright florescent lights seemed harsh in a room where people agonized whether their loved ones would survive the next hour. Pale green walls decorated with cheap ocean landscape prints did little to create an atmosphere of condolence.

  He learned from the nurse that his dad and Laura had been in a one car accident on the Pacific Coast Highway. Eyewitnesses said his dad was traveling at a high rate of speed, had veered off the road to avoid a head-on collision with a motorcycle and they rolled down a steep embankment onto the rocky beach. All the nurse would tell him was that his father and stepmother were in critical condition.

  He cringed at the word stepmother but said nothing in response.

  An app
roaching doctor interrupted his thoughts.

  “Mr. Jennings? My name is Dr. Anderson, I’m the intensive care attending physician.”

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Brent said. “What can you tell me about my father’s condition?”

  “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news. Both your father and his wife are in a non-responsive vegetative state. They are on life support. It is too early to speculate about a long-term prognosis, but I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. I put their recovery chances at slim. There’s nothing more we can do right now but to wait. And pray, if you’re so inclined.”

  The last option was out of the question as Brent hadn’t stepped foot in a church since his first communion twenty years ago. And he was in no mood to find Jesus now.

  “I think you should go home and get your father’s affairs in order in case there’s a turn for the worse. We will call you as soon as there are any changes in his condition.”

  “Oh my God,” was all Brent could say, a more common expression than a call to a higher being.

  “Do you have siblings or other family members?”

  “Yeah, a brother and sister, twins, a couple years younger than me.”

  He didn’t mention Laura’s son Ryan.

  “I would suggest you contact them if they want to visit their father while they can.”

  * * *

  Brent sat in his car in the hospital parking lot, tired of the intensive care waiting room’s sterile, depressing atmosphere. He pulled out his cell phone, selected contacts and pressed his sister’s number.

  “Jessica, it’s Brent. I’ve got some bad news.”

  Chapter 16.

  “Goddammit!” Brent shouted, seated at his father’s desk Sunday evening. Nobody was around Jennco’s deserted corporate headquarters to hear him.

  He had just pulled a file folder labeled C. Jennings–Personal and Confidential from his dad’s locked drawer. His dad hid the key to his desk under the company golf league trophy on his windowsill, and Brent gained easy access to his confidential personal files. He opened the file as he laid it on the desk. A Post It Note on the inside of the folder’s front cover said Originals in Safe Deposit Box at Pacific National Bank and taped to the file cover under the note was a key embossed with the number 3148.

  Two photocopies of Jennco stock certificates presented another barrier to his quest to control the company.

  The first was for six thousand shares issued to Curtis R. Jennings.

  The second was for four thousand shares issued to Laura Dahlstrom Jennings.

  Brent and his siblings always assumed Curt owned one hundred percent of Jennco, and they would each inherit a one third interest in the company when he died. But that was before he married his trophy wife. Their assumed one third interest was now twenty percent each, which meant the three would need to combine their collective sixty percent ownership interest to maintain control over the company to which they felt entitled.

  This concerned him. Joshua had grown close to Laura since she married his dad. If he sided with her on any issue, they could vote a collective sixty percent controlling interest and thwart his ambitions to run the company.

  He had mistreated his brother, or even worse showed indifference toward him, more so after he came out as gay, and hoped he hadn’t alienated the ally he now needed. He would attempt to mend the relationship during their mourning process, his only chance to maintain a united front against Laura Dahlstrom.

  Or whoever inherited her shares.

  The next document in the file only added to Brent’s angst.

  The Last Will and Testament of Curtis R. Jennings.

  Under the terms of the will, Laura inherited his entire estate, including his Jennco shares, upon his death. If she predeceased him, his children inherited the estate in equal shares. He skimmed legalese that would deem her to have predeceased him if she died within thirty days of his death.

  He would soon appreciate the legalese implications.

  The more he perused, the more his angst continued to grow.

  Curt’s health care directive stated his executor was to permit no artificial means to prolong his life if he were comatose. However, Laura’s health care directive, recognizing she was the mother of a teenage son, directed her executor to pursue any artificial means available to prolong her life if she were comatose, withholding them only after her recovery was impossible to a medical certainty.

  He reconsidered the legalese in his dad’s will. If they followed his dad’s health care directive, the doctors would cease all artificial life support. And if they followed Laura’s health care directive, the doctors would continue all available artificial life support until her demise was a medical certainty.

  And it would take over thirty days.

  * * *

  “Hey Charlie,” Brent said after he called one of his Sunday morning golfing buddies. “Sorry I took off from the course this morning, my dad was in a serious car accident and I had to get to the hospital.”

  “Sorry to hear that Brent, anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

  “Thanks, but I have a quick legal question for you.”

  Charlie Atkins was a criminal defense lawyer. He built a lucrative practice representing high profile criminals, his fees paid with laundered proceeds from illegal enterprises. Brent explained his health care directives predicament.

  “I’m a criminal defense lawyer, and I don’t know much about wills and probate law. I forgot everything about it the minute I left the bar exam.”

  “I know you’re not an expert, but as a lawyer, does my analysis sound reasonable?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. It looks to me like if you unplug your old man, and his trophy wife stays plugged in for thirty days, everything goes to the bitch.” A decade representing lowlifes had tarnished Charlie’s tactful command of the English language. “I could do a little research if you want me too.”

  Brent paused for a moment, a diabolical plan forming in his mind. Laura was the named executor of his dad’s estate, but he was the executor if she were unable to serve. Curt executed documents granting each of them authority to access his safe deposit box in his incapacitation or death. With the health care directive copies in his possession, and the originals he would retrieve in the morning, he could convince his siblings to keep their father on life support as long as Laura to ensure they inherited what they were entitled to receive.

  “Thanks Charlie, but I’m good. I’ll call if I need anything else.”

  “Okay, see you next Sunday.”

  * * *

  After leaving Jennco headquarters Brent drove to Courtney’s house. Her dad was in Bali covering an international surfing competition for ESPN, and she invited him for dinner, sure he needed companionship following his father’s car accident. They had been together every day since meeting at O’Reilly’s and had grown close.

  “Hey Babe,” she said as he walked in the front door. “You doing all right?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long day. But all things considered it’s okay.”

  She hugged him and they sat on the couch. She poured them each a glass of wine.

  “Tell me about your day.”

  “After leaving the hospital I went to my dad’s office to look for his personal files. The doctor told me things don’t look good, and that I should put my dad’s affairs in order in case there’s a turn for the worse.”

  “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all good. But as executor of his estate, if it comes to that, I have a lot of work to figure everything out.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not right now, but thanks. I’ll let you know if I do.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and he continued.

  “I found some things in my dad’s files that worry me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I found Jennco stock certificates and learned Laura owns forty percent of
the company. I always thought my dad owned one hundred percent. Then I found my dad’s will, and Laura will inherit the entire company if she outlives him.”

  He didn’t share with her the conflicting health care directives.

  “Are you sure that’s what he intended?”

  “It sure looks that way,” he said. “But I’ll need a lawyer to help sort through all this stuff, it looks complicated. My dad didn’t have a relationship with a lawyer, he never trusted them after he felt they screwed him in a lawsuit fifteen years ago. He even drafted his own will, so maybe there’s a way to figure out what he intended, not what he wrote. The only lawyer I know is Charlie Atkins, but he’s a criminal defense lawyer and told me he knows nothing about wills and probating estates.”

  “My uncle’s a lawyer with Jamison Mattoon & Thorsby, a well-respected law firm,” she said. “I’m sure he’d represent you and your siblings. Maybe we can have lunch in the next day or so and I can introduce you.”

  “That would be great,” Brent said.

  “Okay, I’ll set it up. But for now let’s focus on dinner. I made pan seared scallops in a lobster cream sauce, your favorite.”

  Chapter 17.

  Brent walked into the lobby of Pacific National Bank and the receptionist directed him to the safety deposit department. A clerk behind the desk greeted him as he entered the small, glass enclosed interior lobby.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes. My name is Brent Jennings, I am Curtis Jennings’ son. He was injured in an automobile accident and is in a coma.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry. I just saw your father last week, he is always so pleasant. Please accept my condolences.”

  “Thank you for your kind words. I must gain access to his safe deposit box to settle his affairs…, in his absence. He executed a document authorizing my access, and I have a key. I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.”

  She tapped a few keys on her desktop computer and after a minute returned her attention to Brent.