The conversation with Mr. Reynolds refused to leave my mind.
Two days later, while Daddy was out on the yacht with some business associates, I cornered Reynolds again in the wine cellar where he was doing inventory.
“Tell me about the lawyer,” I said without greeting. “The one my mother was going to meet.”
Reynolds froze, then slowly set down the bottle he was holding. He looked around nervously before speaking in a low voice.
“His name is Daniel Harrington,” he whispered. “A high-profile family lawyer based in New York. Your mother had a secret meeting scheduled with him two days after she… passed.”
He pulled out his phone, hesitated, then showed me a saved email from years ago.
It was from my mother to Reynolds:
“Michael, I’ve done it. I have an appointment with Harrington on Thur
