Free Revolution Number 9 by Peter Abrahams

was smiling again. He drank some water, peering over the rim of the glass at Charlie,then at Emily. “What a pair of lovebirds,” he said. “You’re a lucky man, Charlie. I hate to ask you to postpone that camping trip.”
    Emily saw Charlie frown. “What do you mean?” she asked.
    “I’ve got some news,” Uncle Sam replied. “Good news, possibly very good news. Certainly the kind of news any couple starting out would love to hear.”
    “Let’s have it,” Charlie said, again in a flat tone that struck Emily as rude. Did Uncle Sam raise an eyebrow? She wasn’t sure; he smiled and continued.
    “It’s kind of complicated,” he said. “It all goes back to Charlie’s grandfather’s will. Old Ferdie Ochs—a first-class SOB—you’ll pardon the expression, Emily. He left a sloppily prepared will, which he neglected to alter even though one of his children—Charlie’s dad—predeceased him. Ferdie died a few years ago, and that’s when we got an inkling of the mess he’d made of his affairs.” He turned to Charlie. “One of our big difficulties was we had no idea where you were.” He shook his head. “You’ve been a bad boy, Charlie. Avoiding your relatives like this.” His smile faded for a moment, came to life again. “But that’s all in the past. The point is that Ferdie managed to accumulate some choice hunks of real estate, and since your father died intestate, you became one of the major heirs.”
    “Choice hunks?” said Emily, and wished at once she hadn’t. She liked the phrase, that’s all.
    “Choice,” said Uncle Sam. “But because so much time has passed, we’ve got some hurdles to jump. Charlie has, specifically. There’s a move underway—quite understandable, I suppose, since he hasn’t been in communication with the family, presumed lost and all—to cut him out of the will.” He held up his hand. It was still shaking. “Not to worry,” he went on. “Now that Charlie’s turned up everything should be fine. The law is on our side, or at least that’s what my legal people say. But we have to move quickly. There are statutory time factors involved and other complications I don’t quite understand. The lawyers do. I’ve scheduled a meeting with them for later today.” He leaned across the coffee table, took Emily’s hand.His was cold and damp. “So I hope you don’t mind if we borrow Charlie for a while, my dear.”
    “Today?”
    “I hate doing this,” said Uncle Sam.
    Buzz leaned forward in his chair. “But,” he prompted.
    Uncle Sam sighed. “I don’t make the schedule.”
    Emily said, “Couldn’t the meeting be postponed for a few days?”
    “Naturally I tried that, with the wedding and all,” said Uncle Sam. “They’re not in a postponing mood.”
    Emily turned to Charlie. He was staring out the window, didn’t seem to realize she was trying to make eye contact. “I guess our trip could wait for a day,” she said.
    “It might take a few days, actually,” Uncle Sam said.
    “A few days?”
    “This is a complex matter, as I mentioned. But we’re talking about substantial sums.”
    “Why don’t I come along, then? I’ve blocked off the time anyway.” Emily turned to Charlie again. He was still staring out the window. “Charlie?”
    He faced her. She waited for him to say “Why don’t you?” When he did not, she repeated the suggestion herself.
    Was it her imagination, or did Charlie wince, as though with a sudden pain in his gut? Her question was answered by Uncle Sam.
    “Ticklish,” he said.
    “Putting it mildly,” said Buzz.
    “I don’t understand.” No one explained. “Do you, Charlie?”
    “Not really.”
    “Charlie’s not in a position to,” said Uncle Sam. “He doesn’t know the
dramatis personae
. They’re a suspicious bunch. We told them Charlie was single, not wanting to complicate things with possible heirs.”
    “Et cetera,”
said Buzz.
    “So now if we turned up with a connubial Charlie, they might think we were