Free Mr. Write (Sweetwater) by Lisa Clark O'Neill Page B

when Tucker was a kid.
    Guess that laid waste to the myth about people mellowing with age.
    “Those papers?”  Tucker said now, trying not to be creeped out by the dead animal heads staring at him from the walls, looking every bit as surprised and annoyed as himself to find themselves there.  “I’m not sure what bullshit you’re trying to pull, but we work this out right here.  I’m not going to be dragged into court, have my life turned into a sideshow.”
    Carlton T. steepled his papery hands. “If you’ve bothered to consult your attorney –”
    “I fired him.”
    For some reason, t his made the old man smile.  “I’m assuming that was in response to your recent tenant… issues.”
    “None of your business.”
    “Regardless, the trust agreement states that –”
    “ It’s an irrevocable, generation-skipping trust,” Tucker interrupted.  His lawyer had been clear on this, at least.  Just as Tucker had been clear that the generation-skipping aspect hadn’t been chosen for its tax benefits, but as a dart aimed at Tucker’s father. 
    “ You effectively removed your right to any incidents of ownership when you transferred the Boundary Street property to me.  Meaning, it’s mine, and you can’t quibble about it just because I don’t bow and scrape and offer to kiss your damn ring.  You’re my grandfather, not my king, and I don’t give a shit about your empire.”
    A clock ticked in the silence.
    “Your mother,” the old man finally said “benefited personally from those incidents of ownership.  As interim trustee, that opened her to breach of trust.”
    This was the part of the ridiculous lawsuit that really boiled his blood.  “My mother,” he said through clenched teeth “is dead.”
    “I know.”  His grandfather didn’t even blink.  Hadn’t offered one word of condolence.  “Which is why I’m forced to sue her estate.”
    Tucker laughed, completely without humor.  “I’m her estate, you jackass.  A fact of which you’re well aware.  As you’re aware of the fact that she only began to rent the house out so that she could send me to a decent school .  I benefited.  I was the minor beneficiary who was legally entitled to any incidents.  You’re suing me on behalf of me. ” 
    “ Then it should be no problem to provide documentation to that effect to your new attorney.  Unless, of course, your mother –”
    “ She never cared about the damn money.”
    Realizing that he’d come out of his chair, Tucker took a ragged breath to get hold of his temper.  Losing it was just giving his grandfather what he was after.  Or part of it, anyway.
    Tucker shook his head in disgust.  “You had years to file this lawsuit if you really thought that the terms of the trust were being violated.  The only reason you’re doing it now is because I’m here in your backyard, and it pisses you off that I’m still not willing to play footsies.”
    “Such a way with words,” Carlton said drolly.
    A barb, but Tucker ignored it.  “Drop the lawsuit.  Then I’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine, and we’ll both pretend that the little inconvenience of a shared bloodline doesn’t exist.”
    “You could still have it all, you know.”
    Tucker paused, halfway to the door.  “Have I given you the impression that I’m interested?”
    “I simply thought, without your mother around to… cloud your judgment –”
    Tucker slowly turned.  “In deference to your advanced years, I’m going to assume that of the two of us, you are the one with the fuzzy judgment.  My father grew up with all this.”  He gestured around the elaborate, antique-filled room.  “And he was willing to give it up to be with her, even when you tried to keep them apart.  Yeah, I know all about that.  And before you start thinking that she was badmouthing you all those years, I was able to put that together for myself.  Mostly by the way you acted.  If it had been up to her, I’m pretty