Free The Secret Keeper by Dorien Grey

Uncle Richard in the firm belief that actually working was beneath them—though frankly, I can’t imagine anyone hiring them even if they did want to work.
    “Uncle Richard is a little too fond of gambling, though he has always managed to keep his head just above water. George is a serious druggie; Alan’s a womanizer who I suspect abuses his wife; and Stuart is, to put it mildly, flat-out strange. He claims to be an inventor, and actually has a couple of patents on worthless gee-gaws. He knows everything there is to know about everything and will not hesitate to tell you so whether you want to know or not. I’m sure Stuart is gay, by the way, not that it matters. He’s so walled into his closet he could never find his way out.
    “I’ve never had much to do with any of them. It’s like a really bad soap opera, and it’s almost like we weren’t related at all. Wishful thinking on my part.” He grinned again.
    “When Pauline died, the boys nearly trampled one another in their rush to spend every cent she left them. I still can’t figure out how they did it, but they managed. The only decent one in Richard’s whole family is Anna, Alan’s daughter. She’s really quite nice. She’s deaf, which probably spared her being too caught up in the family dynamics. The rest of the family all but ignores her, like she’s some kind of freak, and she’s probably just as well off for it.
    “The only time I ever see everyone is when the whole family gets—got—together every year on December fifteenth for Grandpa B’s birthday. They’d spend that one day falling all over one another buttering him up, then ignore him the rest of the year unless they wanted something—which, until recently, he’d almost always give them.
    “Because his birthday was so close to Christmas, that meant they didn’t have to bother actually spending the holiday with him. Most of them would send him a present for Christmas, usually something he either had no use for or already had twenty of. They didn’t care—they figured the old ‘it’s the thought that counts’ would cover it.”
    “I wonder why he put up with it.”
    Cocking his head and raising one eyebrow, he said, “Guilt. I think he felt guilty because he hadn’t been a real part of their lives once Grandma got custody of Mom and Richard in the divorce and did everything she could to turn them and their kids against him. He’s always been more than generous with all of us. At the time of the divorce, he established sizable trust funds for my mother and Uncle Richard. And when each of the grandkids was born, he did the same for us.
    “The funds for the grandkids didn’t kick in until we turned twenty-five. Though Pat and I have real jobs, so we don’t have to rely on it, The Three Stooges—Richard’s boys—have all been living off of it from the minute they qualified, and especially after they blew what Aunt Pauline left them. But it was never enough. They always wanted more. I really felt sorry for the way the family treated Grandpa B. He didn’t deserve it.”
    “And what about his housekeeper?” I asked.
    “Esmirelda,” he said. “Esmirelda Taft. She’s not a member of the family, but aside from the money, she’s cut from the same cloth. Very efficient in an I, Robot sort of way. Absolutely no personality or sense of humor. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.”
    “How long had she been with him?”
    “About ten years, I think. She originally worked for Uncle Richard and Aunt Pauline. Six months after Aunt Pauline died, Grandpa B’s longtime housekeeper retired and moved to be with family in Florida, and Uncle Richard insisted that Esmirelda go work for him, I suspect to keep a close eye on Grandpa B and report everything he did back to Uncle Richard.”
    “Do you know if she’s still looking after the house?”
    He nodded. “Yes, she’s agreed to stay on until it’s decided what to do with the place.”
    “Who is the executor of the will?”