A Wrong Righted

By Reeve Chudd

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

– Winnie the Pooh

“Keeney!”  Lewis Beauchamp called out to his young associate, whose office was next door to his, well within earshot.  Mark Keeney, who had only three months before passed the  Indiana State Bar exam, appeared.

“Yes, sir?” Mark inquired.

“Our client, Dorothy Graham, would appreciate your going to her home so that she can execute a new Will I’ve prepared for her.  She’s dying…fourth stage liver cancer… and can’t come to the office.”  He reached across his desk and handed the young man a five-page, blue-backed document.  “Do you recall the questions to ask when someone signs a Will or codicil?”

“Yes, of course.  But don’t we need two disinterested witnesses?”

“Take Larry with you.”  Larry McDonald had been the librarian, file clerk and mailman of the Indianapolis law firm of Heller, Beachamp and Rollins for nearly twenty years.  “The address is 401 Alma Real Drive in Meridian Hills.”

”When should we leave, sir?”

“This very minute. As I said, Dot… I mean Dorothy is dying.  She’s a widow.  Her husband, Walt, died three years ago. In her current Will, she disinherited her daughter Linda, who got pregnant and ran away.  She wants to reinstate the daughter.”

“Why not just do a codicil to change the disinheritance provision in her current Will?” asked Mark.

“Because Dot doesn’t want Linda or her other daughter to know about the prior disinheritance” was the answer.  “Her son, Frank, knows about it because he helped administer his father’s estate, but he’s also agreed to keeping the secret.”

“But” continued Mark, “couldn’t the prior Will be discoverable by the daughter?”

“Not unless there’s litigation, which there won’t be.”

Accepting this explanation, Mark walked down the hall to the firm’s small library where Larry was at his desk, and he explained the assignment.  “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” Mark instructed.

He then returned to his own office to retrieve his suit jacket, a couple of blue pens and a legal pad, in case he would need to record any oral declarations by Mrs. Graham, and walked to the file room to obtain the physical client file.  He met Larry in the firm’s lobby, and they took the elevator to descend to the fourth floor parking level where stood Mark’s ancient, rust-riddled 1974 Chrysler Barracuda. Every turn of the ignition was prefaced by a silent prayer for the revival of this dinosaur, but today this hand-me-down vehicle from Mark’s carpenter father must have sensed that it was destined to transport its young owner on an important mission.  The car started on the first turn of the key.

The drive would take about twenty minutes, and Mark handed Larry the client file and asked, “Can you please look at the papers and try to give me some background while I’m driving?”  While Larry was not an attorney, Mark’s brief encounters with him at the firm thus far had given Mark the impression that Larry’s years at the firm had not been wasted.  After all, as Mark’s father used to tell him, “The School of Hard Knocks is by far the best education”.

Larry took the file and began sifting through its contents.  He began, “I see that Dorothy and Walter Graham have a son named Frank, who’s some type of doctor, and two daughters named Cheryl and Linda, and that the Grahams lived at this home for at least 30 years, because here’s a copy of a letter from Mr. Beachamp to them dated 1985 at the same address.”  He continued to look at the correspondence copies in the file.

Suddenly, Larry raised his eyebrows.  “Whoa!  Here’s a letter where Mr. Beauchamp confirms that the Grahams wish to disinherit one of their daughters.”

“Yeah,” replied Mark. “Mr. Beauchamp told me that the daughter Linda got pregnant and ran away.  Look in the Notes folder and see if Mr. Beauchamp wrote anything to give us more details.”  Larry dutifully began the instructed search.

“Here’s something,” the librarian noted.  “Linda Graham got pregnant from Pete Mahony, the controller of Mr. Graham’s packaging company, and she ran off with Pete.  Apparently, Mr. Graham had warned Pete to stay away from his daughter.”

“Any notes about the grandchild, if any?”

“Nothing here.”

“Look at the copy of the most recent Will.”

Larry searched further.  “I think this is it,” he said as he stopped at some photocopied pages in the Documents folder of the file.

“Can you read it to me, please.”  

Larry began reading:

“I, Dorothy Collins Graham, a resident of the County of Marion, State of Indiana, being of lawful age and of sound and disposing mind and memory and not acting under any duress, menace, fraud or undue influence whatever, declare this to be my last Will and Testament and hereby expressly revoke any and all former Wills and Codicils to Wills made by me. 

“I declare that I am married, that my husband’s name is Walter Lee Graham, and that I have had three children, all of whom are adults and are now living, namely:  Francis K. Graham, Cheryl Graham Levins and Linda Graham.  I further declare that I have expressly omitted to provide for Linda Graham and her issue in this Will.”

“Stop,” Mark interrupted.  “’Her issue’ means even the grandchild was disinherited.  Now please read me the second paragraph of the new Will Mr. Beauchamp gave us to get signed.”

Larry pulled out the blue-back document and read:

“I declare that I am a widow, that my husband’s name was Walter Lee Graham, and that I have had three children, all of whom are adults and are now living, namely:  Francis K. Graham, Cheryl Graham Levins and Linda Graham.”

“That’s it?” 

“Yes,” Larry replied.  

“Boy,” Mark touched his chin with a free hand.  “I’d love to hear the story about how Linda got back into her mother’s good graces.”

They arrived at the house.  Meridian Hills is a very upscale section of northwestern Indianapolis, and this Tudor dwelling fit right into place with its circular brick driveway and whitewashed brick outer walls.

As their car entered the driveway, a middle-aged man came out of the front door to greet them.  “Are you from Mr. Beauchamp’s office?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Mark and he proceeded to introduce Larry and himself.

“I’m Frank Graham, Dorothy’s son.  My mother is in the living room just inside the front door on the left.  Please try not to show concern or shock at her appearance; she hasn’t been eating, and her doctors don’t think that she’ll last a week (and I think they’re being optimistic).  Thanks so much for rushing over here. This was a woman who was so proud of her fastidious appearance; never a hair out of place or shoddy dress.  She always looked her best, so it would be a kindness if you could imagine her with full make-up and dress and don’t show fear or disappointment.”

“We understand,” Mark assured, and looked at Larry, who nodded.  “Are your sisters here?”

“Yes, both Linda and Cheryl are upstairs with their children, but at Mr. Beauchamp’s suggestion, I asked them to stay up there so that Mom could deal with you in privacy.  Mom doesn’t want them to know about the change in the Will.”

Mark didn’t hesitate a second to ask, “Can you shed some light on the reason for the change, Dr. Graham?  In the rush to get over here, Mr. Beauchamp didn’t have a chance to give us any details.”

“I’ll let my mother fill you in.” was his reply.

The three of them entered the house and proceeded to the living room.  There, in an electrical hospital bed, lay a gaunt, slender and petite woman, whose face was lined with life, and whose exposed hands appeared to be those of a mere flesh-toned skeleton.

“Mom,” Frank said, “this is Mark and Larry from Mr. Beauchamp’s office.”  He proceeded to press the bed’s remote control to help her sit up.  “I’m going to leave you with them, and I’ll just be in the den if you need me.”

Mrs. Graham gave a weak smile as Frank exited, and then addressed Mark with a weak, lilting voice. “You’re the young man Lew told me about,” she said to Mark.  “You’re as young as Lew was when Walt and I met him.”

Mark was able to break a return smile.  He’d seen death before with his great-uncle Jesse, and so the sight and the smell did not shake him.    He noticed on the wall two diplomas from Purdue University.

“You and Mr. Graham went to Purdue?  I went there, too.”

The smile on Mrs. Graham’s face opened to a pleasant surprise, and this small revelation seemed to instill her slight body with added energy. “You hear that, Frank,” she croaked.  “This boy is a Boilermaker!!.  I met my Walt there, and Frank got his bachelor’s degree there, too.  He would have gone to medical school there, if they’d had one”  

“Mrs. Graham,” replied Mark, “we came here for you to sign a new Will that reinstates your daughter Linda for an equal share of your estate.  Is that what you want.”  He took out his legal pad and began recording the conversation as best he could.

“Yes, yes.  Walt felt betrayed when Linda ran away with that terrible Pete Mahony.  Pete was married and had two kids already, you know. And Pete left Linda and went back to his wife and children a week after Linda’s son, P.J., was born.  Oh, Walt was so mad.   He wouldn’t take Linda’s calls, threw away her letters, and when she showed up at our door, he slammed it in her face.  He was just a very proud, but very, very stubborn man who just couldn’t get over what happened.  Walt insisted that we write Linda out of our Wills.  Frank knows, because he was Walt’s executor.  But the girls don’t know, because Walt’s Will gave everything to me.  I’d like them never to know.

“But Linda didn’t fall apart,” she continued.  “She worked as a waitress at a diner in Whitestown, north of here, and she met a nice man there whom she married, Jimmy Coyne, and together they bought that diner and still operate it, and saved their pennies and then they bought the gas station adjacent to the diner and then the motel on the other side of the freeway.  After Walt died, Frank brought Linda and P.J. to see me, and Frank and Cheryl both welcomed them home.  I just never got around to changing the Will until Frank reminded me about the change I needed to make.  Lew told me that I needed a whole new Will so as not to have Linda or Cheryl know how drastic Walt’s reaction had been to Linda.”

Mark finally answered. “Well, this Will that Mr. Beauchamp created will reinstate Linda to be treated equally with Frank and Cheryl.”

Mrs. Graham nodded, but her breathing had started to become labored. All that recitation had taken its toll.  Mark sensed that action had to be taken right away.  He grabbed the Will held by Larry and turned quickly to the fifth and last page.  He took his pen out and filled in the date and the place of signing.

Presenting the Will and using his legal pad as a stiff writing surface, Mark showed the Will to Mrs. Graham and inquired: “Are you Dorothy Collins Graham, is this your Last Will and Testament, and would you like for us to act as witnesses to your signing?”  

“Yes. And thank you, Mr. Boilermaker,” she replied with a slight smile. Mark handed her the pen and placed the Will and legal pad in her lap. With great labor just to lift her hands she signed the Will with her full name.  Mark then signed his name and filled in his residential address next to his signature, then handed the Will and the pen to Larry to do the same.

“Please lower the bed so that I can lie down flat, now” she said, and Mark reached for the remote control and lowered the bed to a flat position. Finally, she whispered weakly, “Please ask Frank and the girls to come here.”

Mark stepped across the entrance hall and into the den where Frank was sitting with his head in his hands.  “Dr. Graham,” he called, “your mother asked you to come back and bring your sisters.”  

Frank immediately rose and bounded up the stairs to the second-floor bedrooms and returned with two middle aged women.  He pointed to them and said to Mark and Larry, “This is Cheryl and Linda.  Cheryl’s eldest, Greg, is watching the other children upstairs.” 

Mark and Larry stepped back to the living room wall while Frank, Cheryl and Linda approached the bed.  Frank stood on his mother’s left side, with one hand holding her left hand and his other hand on the side of her face.  Cheryl and Linda stood on the other side, with Cheryl holding Dorothy’s other hand and Linda caressing her mother’s hair.  All three of them were already in tears, speaking in broken voices, in hushed tones.  Mark could discern many utterances of “I love you.”

Finally, Linda said, “Tell Dad that I miss him.”  

Dorothy nodded slightly, and whispered, “I’ll sleep now,” and closed her eyes.  A minute later, Frank produced and donned a stethoscope, listened to his mother’s chest, and cried to his sisters, “She’s gone.”  The two daughters fell over their mother.

Somehow, though all of this, Mark maintained self-possession and calm.  Larry’s eyes bulged and he became mute.  After about ten minutes, Frank stood up and approached them with hand outstretched.  After shaking with Mark and Larry, he said to them, “Thank you for being here for our mother.  Please tell Lew Beauchamp how grateful we are that he sent you two fellows to us, and we’ll be in touch with him about our arrangements.”

Mark was aware enough to know that was their cue to exit.  He nodded to Frank and signaled Larry to leave with him, and they left the house and jumped into the Barracuda to return to the office.

  On the drive back, Larry was silent until they were almost back at the office, when he said, “I’ve never seen anyone die before. I didn’t know it could be that peaceful.”

Mark glanced quickly over to Larry with a smile. “Thanks for joining me, Larry.  I know this wasn’t in your job description.  But you handled yourself really, really well.”  

That was the end of their conversation, but for the rest of their careers together at Heller, Beachamp and Rollins, Mark and Larry shared a bond together as witnesses to a death bed departure.

Mark entered the lobby and went straight to Lew Beauchamp’s office, handing the senior partner the signed Will.

“She died while Larry and I were with her,” Mark said softly.

“Well,” replied Lew, “that’s the nature of the practice.  I met Walt and Dot when I was about your age.  Our firm did a lot of work with Walt’s company until he sold it a few years back.  When you get to be my age, some of your estate planning documents ‘mature’.  We’re just lucky that you got there in time.  Walt was a hard fellow with an iron will.  He felt that Linda betrayed him personally, and he could just never forgive her.  Poor P.J. never got a chance to hug his grandfather.  I guess it takes experiences like this to remind us of how important it is to hold our family close and just not let go until we can’t hold on any longer.”  He stared out his office window, then refocused on Mark and continued. “I think I’ll call Rhoda (his wife) and make a plan to drive up to West Lafayette this weekend to take our granddaughter out to dinner.”

Mark went back to his office to look after his other assignments.  One week later, Lew Beauchamp called Mark into his office.  Without looking up, Lew handed Mark a handwritten letter, which read:

Dear Lew,

I want to thank you for sending Mr. Keeney and Mr. McDonald to my mother’s home so that she could right a wrong which I wish that my father had admitted during his last days with us.  Now that our parents are gone, we three have each other, and we are so grateful to Mom for knowing that’s what we all wanted.  We hope that you’ll make Mr. Keeney available to handle our own estate plans in the future.  Mom’s funeral will be next Sunday at 1p.m.at St. Luke’s on 72^nd Street.  I hope that you and your two colleagues can join us to celebrate Mom.

Sincerely,

Dr. Frank Graham

“Get your suit pressed for Sunday.”  Lew Beauchamp said. “And this will definitely be non-billable.”

Reeve Chudd is a retired tax attorney living in Carmel, Indiana.  He always wanted to be a writer, but also wanted to eat regularly.  Instead of creating soporific legal documents, he hopes now to retain readers’ attention with worthwhile prose.  If he’s unsuccessful, there’s always coffee.