Free Wicked by Sara Shepard Page A

Hastings swept past Spencer, tugging off her suede Hermès gloves with her teeth, Chanel No. 5 wafting behind her.
    Spencer sat in one of the leather swivel chairs around the large, cherry conference table. Melissa pulled out the seat next to hers. Their dad settled on the other side of the room, and Mr. Calloway sat down next to him. Genevieve wriggled out of her sable coat while Smith and Jonathan powered off their BlackBerrys and straightened their Brooks Brothers ties. Both boys had been prissy ever since Spencer could remember. Back when the families celebrated Christmas together, Smith and Jonathan always carefully sliced their presents’ wrapping paper at the seams so they wouldn’t rip it.
    “Let’s start, shall we?” Mr. Calloway shoved his tortoiseshell glasses higher up on his nose and pulled a thick document out of a manila file. The overhead light glinted off the top of his bald head as he read through the opening preamble of Nana’s last will and testament, indicating that she was of sound mind and body when she composed it. Nana stated that she would divide her Florida mansion, the Cape May beach house, and her Philadelphia penthouse apartment along with the bulk of her net worth between her children: Spencer’s father, uncle Daniel, and aunt Penelope. When Mr. Calloway said Penelope’s name out loud, everyone looked startled. They gazed around, as if Penelope were there and no one had noticed. Of course, she wasn’t.
    Spencer wasn’t sure when she’d last seen Aunt Penelope. The family always grumbled about her. She was the baby of the family and had never married. She’d bounced from career to career, trying her hand at fashion design, then moving to journalism, even starting an online tarot card–reading site out of her beach house in Bali. After that, she’d disappeared, traveling the world, eating up her trust fund, and neglecting to visit for years. It was pretty clear that everyone was horrified that Penelope had been bequeathed anything at all. Spencer suddenly felt a kinship with her aunt—maybe every Hastings generation needed a black sheep.
    “As for Mrs. Hastings’s other assets,” Mr. Calloway said, flipping a page, “she bequeaths two million dollars to each of her natural-born grandchildren as follows.”
    Smith and Jonathan leaned forward. Spencer gaped. Two million dollars?
    Mr. Calloway squinted at the words. “Two million dollars to her grandson Smithson, two million dollars to her grandson Jonathan, and two million dollars to her granddaughter Melissa.” He paused, his eyes landing momentarily on Spencer. An awkward look fluttered over his face. “And…okay. We just need everyone to sign here.”
    “Uh,” Spencer started. It came out like a grunt, and everyone looked over. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, self-consciously touching her hair. “I think you forgot a grandchild.”
    Mr. Calloway opened his mouth and closed it again, like one of the goldfish that swam in the Hastingses’ backyard reflecting pond. Mrs. Hastings stood up abruptly, doing the goldfish thing with her mouth too. Genevieve cleared her throat, pointedly staring down at her three-carat emerald ring. Uncle Daniel flared his enormous nostrils. Spencer’s cousins and Melissa gathered over the will. “Right here,” Mr. Calloway said quietly, pointing to the page.
    “Uh, Mr. Calloway?” Spencer goaded. She whipped her head back and forth between the lawyer and her parents. Finally, she let out a nervous laugh. “I am mentioned in the will, aren’t I?”
    Her eyes wide, Melissa grabbed the will from Smith and handed it to Spencer. Spencer stared at the document for a moment, her heart like a jackhammer.
    There it was. Nana had left two million dollars to Smithson Pierpont Hastings, Jonathan Barnard Hastings, and Melissa Josephine Hastings. Spencer’s name was nowhere to be found.
    “What’s going on?” Spencer whispered.
    Her father stood up abruptly. “Spencer, maybe you should wait in