Free The Noon God by Donna Carrick Page B

Way.
    “Wealth has responsibilities, Desdemona,” he said. “Never forget to acknowledge your debt to society. That is one of the marks of greatness.”
    I will give Daddy credit for that. Throughout his life he gave freely to various charities, in particular to The United Way. He was not a miser. I was never sure, though, whether his philanthropy was due to generosity or whether he felt someone of his social standing had to set an example. Well, as Mom would say, give the devil his due. He contributed generously and that’s what mattered.
    I found a copy of the will easily enough. It was in a drawer in his study along with several current bank statements and investment portfolios. He had attached a note to the top of the will indicating the original was in his safety deposit box. The key was taped neatly to the note.
    Considering the size and complexity of Daddy’s estate his will was simple. It was as I had expected, with only a couple of small surprises. He had asked for a large amount of money to be distributed equally among a number of people, including his agent, Andy Rivard, our Uncle Willard Brown and Helen Descartes. I had never known Daddy to show much affection to my mother’s brother, and as far as I was aware he hadn’t seen Helen for fifteen years.
    I let my breath out as I studied the bank and investment statements. There was a lot of money involved, even more than I’d thought. It would come in handy. The future was less than certain.
    I packed the most important of the papers into my bag, which was becoming uncomfortably full. It was nearly seven when I rejoined Lucy in the kitchen.
    “ Can I help with anything?” I asked.
    “ You can throw some pasta into the pot.”
    “ I found a copy of the will. There’s a lot of money.”
    “ I figured that.”
    “ Some goes to charity, some to various friends and relatives.”
    “ Good.”
    “ The rest goes to us. Fifty-five percent to you, and forty-five to me.”
    “ Why the difference?”
    “ You’ll need it,” I said. “You have to get through university. You’ll need an income.”
    “ It won’t take that much more.”
    “ You never know what might come up. Daddy gave me a lot of things when I was younger. I think he was trying to even things out for you.”
    “Oh.” She dipped the wooden spoon into the sauce, mixing it around as she thought. “He didn’t have to do that,” she finally said.
    “ He wanted to,” I lied. The truth was I’d asked Daddy to arrange his estate that way. I’d always known his love favoured me in every way that mattered. My conscience wanted balance.
    “ Ok,” she said.
    “ He left thirty thousand to Helen Descartes,” I said, “and fifty to Uncle Willard.”
    “ Who is Helen Descartes?”
    “ She’s an old friend of Daddy’s. She helped him out when Mommy first died.”
    “ Is she the one who stayed with us for awhile?”
    “ That’s right,” I said.
    “ I’m glad he remembered her. Have you called her yet?”
    “ No. I’ll do it after supper.”
    “ Good. And you’d better call Uncle Will, too.”
    “ We’ll see him in the morning.”
    Daddy and Uncle Willard had never been close. Uncle Willard never said so, but I always got the feeling he blamed Daddy for Mom’s death. At least he seemed to feel Daddy could have done more to make her happy. I heard him tell Mom once if Daddy was a real man he would divorce her and let her get on with her life. Yes, he would have to pay support, but that wasn’t his reason for staying married. As I grew older I came to understand Daddy was one of those men who preferred to remain in a loveless marriage rather than leave it. And why not? Mommy was the perfect alibi. If any woman tried to make claims on Daddy, he would simply point to his pathetic wife and three children and say “How could I possibly leave them?” She made few demands on him, never interfered with his work and hardly hindered his social life.
    And even when Mommy was at her worst,