Chapter 14: For You, For The Party

Later that day, Adam summoned Abigail to his office.

“There are just some things we need to sort out,” Adam told his daughter as he motioned for her to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. “Like I said, some life formalities.”

“What do you mean?” Abigail asked her father, confused.

She sat down on the sofa he offered her, in front of a roaring fire. And she glanced to the three huge ring binders on the table.

“Before I show you these,” Adam said, placing his hand on one of the binders. “I need you to understand something. If you are at all like me, you would be much too proud to take a hand out. And I need you to understand that this is not what that is.”

Abigail made to object, already guessing her father was going to give her access to more money than she’d ever had in her entire life.

“Please, Abigail,” Adam held up a hand. “If your mother had gone to the courts, and demanded child support for you as you were growing up, would you have called her a golddigger? Would you have considered yourself taking a handout?”

“No, of course not,” Abigail started, “But that’s different.”

“How?” Her father asked her. “Did Olivia not have a nutritionist detailing her meal plan since she was born? Did Olivia not get access to the best medicine, the best education? Would the courts, had they awarded your mother child support, not demanded that you be given the same?”

Abigail understood where Adam was heading with this, and she understood the point he was making, but it just wasn’t the same.

“This is a debt,” Adam sighed heavily. “One that’s been sitting on my conscious since your mother told me you existed. And I haven’t been able to sleep soundly since then, knowing that I have a debt unpaid. This is simply everything you were owed since you were little.”

Adam took one of the folders and handed it to her. “You were a beautiful burden for your mother to bear, and I’m sure she would do it all over a thousand times again, to have you. But the truth is that she suffered because of my neglect of you. So this is, firstly, my debt to her.”

Abigail opened the folder, and found inside a check for three million dollars, along with the title deed, in her mother’s name, to a house in an area with a zip code she and her mother had only seen in newspapers and the registration of a more modest car.

Abigail wanted to refuse. She wanted to refuse it on behalf of her mother. But she knew she couldn’t. Her mother needed this. How long could she live her life like she was right now? How many years did her body have before it gave out?

“I knew, I know,” Adam corrected himself. “That she would never take this from me. So, if you’ll forgive me,” Adam looked his daughter in the eye. “I took this money, and the money to buy this house and this car, from the savings account I had set up for you when you were a child. So, actually, this is your gift to your mother. I merely did the admin and the legwork.”

But Abigail focused on something else. “You made an account for me when I was little?”

“The day your mother called me to tell me about you. I told her I wanted nothing to do with you and her, hung up with her, and immediately called the bank to create this. I couldn’t, at that moment, claim you. It would have ruined me,” Adam explained. “But I hoped that one day I would be powerful enough that those laws wouldn’t bind me anymore. Today I am so.”

Abigail looked at the folder for her mother. Used with her savings, it became a thousand times easier to accept this for her mother. She could say she bought it. She would have if her father had simply left her this money.

“These two,” Adam pointed to the other two folders, “Are both for you.”

Abigail placed her mother’s folder down beside her. And reached for the one.

“This is a personal finance,” Adam explained to her. “Money in the accounts I have set up in your name. Houses, shares, cars, and jewelry that are all listed in your name.”

Abigail leafed through the folder, her mind swimming with everything she read. She had seven houses in her name, though even she wouldn’t call them houses. There were at least five cars listed by each property. And more jewelry than she could count. There weren’t even pictures, with how many jewels there were. They were simply listed out, pages upon pages of them. And where they were kept.

Abigail closed the folder. Unable to process exactly what she had just read.

Adam handed her the other one.

“This is your assets right now in our family businesses,” Adam explained to her. “It’s a bit difficult to go through, but I trust you’ll be fine. This is where your personal finance is generated from.” Adam paused. “I’ve hired you an aide, to explain everything to you. He’s available for a meeting as soon as you are.”

“Thank you,” Abigail said quickly. “But, I really just need to process all of this first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course,” Adam nodded. “I know this is overwhelming, but you need to keep one thing in mind. This isn’t all from me. Much of my wealth I inherited from my father, as he did from his. This isn’t me, giving this to you, this is simply me passing on what was always already yours.”

“I understand,” Abigail said, holding onto one of the files for support. “And I’m not refusing it. I just need time.”

“Of course,” Adam nodded. “You can have all the time in the world.”

“Thank you,” Abigail took all three files, and headed for the door.

“Oh, Abigail,” Adam called out to her again. “I trust Olivia already told you about the party coming up?”

Abigail turned back to her father and nodded. “She did.”

“Good,” Adam told her. “I’ll send you the official card with the invite a bit later.”

“I’ll appreciate it,” Abigail nodded, she would be happy with her father’s card confirming what Olivia had told her.

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Abigail sat alone in her room a bit later in the afternoon, perusing through the folders. Her father had told her that her money would be accessible to her from next Monday, as the blocks would be lifted from her accounts then.

Abigail couldn’t believe that she owned all of these things. Some of them had dates of purchase all the way back to when she was ten years old.

She was trying to wrap her head around the fact that when she started working with her mother so that they could afford bread, she was actually already in possession of a vast fortune.

Abigail was drawn out of her thoughts by a knock on her door.

“Come in,” Abigail called out, closing her files.

A servant girl she had never seen before came in, pushing an entire rack of clothing.

“These are from Miss Olivia, Ma’am,” the servant girl told her. “She sent a note as well. And your father sent this official invitation.”

Abigail glanced at the dresses, and even with a cursory glance, knew she wouldn’t like any of them. But she was willing to give everything the benefit of the doubt until she tried them on.

She placed both her sister’s note and her father’s invitation down, thanked the servant girl who then left, and went to see the dresses up close and personal.

Abigail tried on one or two of the better-looking ones and discovered them both far too tight for her. She wondered how they had come from Olivia’s closet since she and her sister were both the same size.

The ones that fit were horrendously garish, overdone, with far too many rhinestones.

Nothing here would be suitable for a party a hundred years ago, never mind this year. She would embarrass her father by not showing up, but she would embarrass herself if she showed up in this.

Abigail sighed, Olivia obviously wanted her to return them, and show ingratitude to her efforts. Oh well. Nothing that could be done for that.

At least she had some time to find a great dress for herself.

Then Abigail had a chilling thought. And she quickly dived for the invite her father had sent her.

Scanning it quickly, she found what she was looking for. The date and time of the party.

Today, this evening, at eight p.m. sharp.

Abigail glanced at her clock. The party was in two hours.

Abigail ripped open the note from her sister.

‘Oh!’ It read, in what must be Olivia’s personal handwriting, with all the gloating that came off it in waves. And the sickening perfume. ‘I think I had the date for the party wrong! It’s today! Would love to see you there! Ta! And feel free to keep the dresses to have for your own personal collection, as a gift from me to you, dearest sister!’