Compromise Me: Chapter 41

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Chapter 41


Mr. Rowe was a kindly-looking man in his early sixties. He greeted Travis and Josie warmly and they settled in leather wingback chairs in his office.


"Thank you so much for coming to see me quickly," Mr. Rowe announced, shuffling items on his desk. "I'm sorry for your loss, and of course for my vague reasons about Annabelle's estate, but I'm afraid the terms of her will stated that I could not disclose any details until I saw you in person."


Travis shifted in his chair. Josie noticed his scowl had come back. "My mother had a will?"


"Yes," Mr. Rowe answered. He removed a file from a desk drawer and opened it. "But before we get to that, I'm obliged to follow her instructions on how we proceed, and the first thing I must do is read a letter to you." He selected a page of stationery with a handwritten note on it and cleared his throat.


Travis leaned forward. "Mr. Rowe, I haven't seen my mother in years. I'm not exactly sure why I'm here."


"Please bear with me, Mr. Fischer," the lawyer said patiently. "I promise everything will be explained." His eyes scanned the instructions again. "'To my only child and son, Travis Holt Fischer...'"


Josie raised her eyebrows. "Your middle name is Holt?"


Travis' mouth twisted. "Don't judge. I was supposedly named after my father."


Mr. Rowe glanced between them. Then he turned back to the paper. "'Dear Travis, I was a horrible mother-"


Travis made a sound, but Mr. Rowe barely paused, "'-- I know that now. You were right to leave. If I could turn back time, then maybe things would have been different, but probably not. I am a weak person. I have problems. And I treated you terribly. I'm sorry, Travis. It's too little, too late, but I'm sorry.'"


Mr. Rowe paused and looked up at Travis. Josie looked over at him, too. "Let's just get this over with," Travis stated.


The lawyer turned back to the letter. "'After you left, things got bad for me, real bad. Worse than anyone could possibly imagine, but I do not wish for you to feel guilty about that. It wasn't because of you. It was me. I was close to giving up before you claimed your independence, and I was glad you weren't there to see me fall so far.'


"'At the time of this letter, I have been clean and sober for one year, five months, and thirteen days. I remember the exact moment my life turned around. It was the day I learned I had a grandson-'"


Travis jerked. "What? She knew about Tristan?"


Mr. Rowe smiled. "Please...let me continue, and then you can ask me all the questions you wish." He searched for his place in the letter again. "'I didn't completely erase you from my life. I've known where you've been and what you've been doing for a long time. But I also knew that I could not be a part of your life anymore. I would have only hurt you more. Mr. Rowe will now give you the proof that I've always loved you, in my own way.'"


And with that, Mr. Rowe picked up a worn photo album and handed it to Travis. Travis just stared at it. His face was like stone. Josie smiled tightly and gently took the book from Mr. Rowe's hands. She didn't look at it. She set it on her lap and crossed her hands over the top.


Continuing with the letter, Mr. Rowe said, "'I know it's not enough, but it's been a part of me for the last decade. Keep it, read it, or burn it. It's your choice. Mr. Rowe will explain the rest of the reason why you're here today. Just know that I'm sorry, Travis, and I love you. Your mother, Annabelle Fischer.'"


Mr. Rowe sighed and placed the letter to the side. "Do you have any questions before we continue, Mr. Fischer?"


Travis glared at a corner of the office. "She knew about Tristan for a year and a half? And not once did she bother to contact me? How is that love?"


Josie said nothing. The anguish on his face muted her. She wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him, but she couldn't. Travis needed to make sense of his mother's behavior, and Josie had no insight to share. She understood women like Hannah and Livie and her grandmother. She even understood Arielle and many of the other women in her life, but for those like her own birth mother and Travis'... All she had were the same questions. How is that love?


Mr. Rowe sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "I met Annabelle about the same time she discovered she was a grandmother...in an A.A. meeting. I myself have been sober for nearly six years now, and as soon as I met Annabelle, there was a connection there. Immediate friendship...kinship. I think we understood each other the way no one else ever did. I lost my wife about ten years ago, and I fell heavily into the drink. But before that, I was a bad husband and father. It was the birth of my first grandchild that opened my eyes, much the same way Annabelle got up the courage to sober up."


"What does that have to do with why I'm here?" Travis growled, and Josie frowned at him. He had a right to be angry, but not to take it out on the lawyer.


"Travis..."


"It's okay, Miss Kirkland," Mr. Rowe said, holding up his hand to her. "Mr. Fischer, there is a reason why your mother asked me to carry out the details of her will. You see, even though we were good friends, she knew that I would be able to answer your questions much the same as she would. So, to answer your first one, how is that love? Well, Annabelle thought that she had no business in your life. She never earned the right. You were happy and successful because she stayed away. She thought she would only curse you. I tried to talk her out of that frame of mind, but she was stubborn. In that scrapbook there, you'll see that she stayed current with your life as best as she could without getting personally involved. She was very proud of you, and in that way, she loved you."


"I wrote to her...after Tristan was born," Travis said hotly. "I told her it was okay if she wanted to see me again, but she never called or wrote back or anything. How did she find out about Tristan? I never told her."


Mr. Rowe smiled wanly. "Oddly enough, she was trying to find her own parents - genealogy searches and adoption agencies - when she came across the documents of your son's birth."


Travis reared back. "Adoption agencies? My mother was adopted?"


"Yes...," Mr. Rowe said slowly. "Annabelle didn't know either, until about eight years ago, from what she told me. She received word that her father had passed, and since her mother has been gone for many years, as well, her father felt she should know the truth. His attorney was instructed to point Annabelle in the direction of the adoption agency that handled her case."


"She said her parents were abusive," Travis said to no one. "I never met them."


"Abusive?" Mr. Rowe mused. "Not in the sense you think. Her adoptive parents - from the stories she told me - were decent enough. As a child, I think Annabelle felt they were abusive, but during these last years of her life, she mostly believed that the fault wasn't with them. They were strict, but she eventually knew it had been warranted. Annabelle was a rebellious child, and she always felt as though something was missing in her life. I hear it's a common emotion for adopted children. It was a hole she was never able to fill, not even when she became a mother herself."


"Did she ever find them? Her real parents?"


Mr. Rowe shook his head. "If she did, she never told me."


Travis turned to gaze at the book in Josie's lap. The curious yearning shown in his eyes. Josie smoothed her palms over the cover, lifting it to him, but he only looked at it and turned back to Mr. Rowe. "How did my mother die?"


A sadness entered his expression. "Years of alcoholism and a liberal lifestyle finally took its toll on her body. Even though she cleansed her body in this last year and a half, the damage was already there. The coroner's report claimed liver failure as the cause of death."


"So, she drank herself to death?"


Mr. Rowe remained silent for a few seconds. "Eventually...yes."


Travis nodded, as if he expected that answer, and he braced his arms on the chair, ready to leave. "Where is she buried?"


"She was cremated," Mr. Rowe explained. "Her urn and remains are at Forest Lawn Memorial."


"What else do you need from me?" Travis said, his posture suggesting that he was about to walk out the door. Mr. Rowe noticed and opened the remaining files in the folders on his desk.


"I'm afraid that we've only scratched the surface this morning," the lawyer explained calmly. "There is still the settling of her estate."


"Whatever bills or debts she's collected over the years, you can send me the information in Memphis," Travis said impatiently. "I'll do my best to clear her accounts."


Mr. Rowe's mouth got a strange twist...nearly a smirk. "Oh, it's nothing like that, Mr. Fischer. Quite the opposite, and the other reason why I had to meet with you in person."


"What's that?"


"Your inheritance," Mr. Rowe said. "Specifically, the three-point-six million dollars she left you."


Travis froze in his chair. If his stunned face was anything to go by, Josie knew he must have felt as slapped back as her. 3.6 million?


Holy Crap!


*****


Travis' ears rang loudly, thumping with a bass-beat of his racing pulse and whistling with the concussion of shock.


"I'm sorry...what did you say?"


Mr. Rowe looked back at him carefully. "I'm going to assume that you didn't know?"


"No, I didn't," Travis said bitterly.


"Then I feel I should explain," the attorney said. "Five years ago, Annabelle won the California State Lottery. Her payout was just over five million, after taxes and fees. You can imagine that she became very popular very quickly, and she told me once that she loved the attention. Unfortunately, the friends she acquired became apparent all too soon, and she fell deeper into drinking when she realized that they only loved her for her money. Annabelle trusted too easily with some things, and with others...not enough. And in that case, she always hoped that you never discovered her fortune until now. She didn't want to believe that her only son would want to see her because of it."


"I never wanted anything from her," Travis snarled, standing up. "I don't want her damn money now!"


Mr. Rowe sighed. "I wish I had tried harder to explain that to her when I could. I did try. I told her that you had the right to know and to make that choice on your own, but she wouldn't budge. Please, Mr. Fischer, sit down. If you still refuse your inheritance after the reading, then all you need to do is sign the document stating that."


Josie turned in her seat. "Travis, please...hear him out," she said, her voice wobbling.


"Fine," Travis grumbled and sat down.


The lawyer picked up a piece of paper. "'I, Annabelle Grace Fischer, of the Town of Los Angeles, County of Los Angeles, and the State of California, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all Will and Codicils previously made by me. I declare that I have never married. I declare that I have one child, namely: Travis Holt Fischer of Memphis, Tennessee.'"


The will went on to explain that all debts, expenses, taxes and such were to be paid by the executioner of the will, specifically Mr. Rowe, before any remaining inheritances are paid out. All personal and physical property and real estate owned by Travis' mother was to be sold and the proceeds donated to various agencies that supported the fight against substance abuse and the support of adopted persons seeking their birth parents.


Travis sat quietly through the long section as Mr. Rowe named off all the items on that particular list...silently fuming that his mother thought so little of him, that she didn't believe him to be honest enough to want to reconnect with her just because she was his mother. It was the final blow on severing any remaining ties with the woman. Mr. Rowe claimed that his mother found remorse in her later years, but to Travis, it was just the same. She'd only cared about herself.


When Mr. Rowe got to the part where his mother set up a trust fund for his son, and any other future children, to be used solely for educational purposes, Travis grew angrier. He didn't need any help raising his son. He could pay for Tristan's college. No problem. How dare his mother think she could do this?


In the raw emotion surround him, he felt Josie's fingers threading through his and squeezing. He blinked and gazed over at her. She didn't smile, but the solidarity in her green eyes calmed him. She understood. If anyone knew how painful and infuriating it was to feel like his mother was paying him off for years of neglect...Josie knew. She got it.


"'...All remaining tangible assets are bequeathed to my son, Travis Holt Fischer. If he does not survive me, or if he legally refuses the conditions of this Will, then all remaining tangible assets shall be distributed equally to the above-mention agencies...'"


Let them have it, he thought.


Mr. Rowe finished the rest of the reading, and he set the will aside. "Do you have any questions, Mr. Fischer?"


"No questions," he said stiffly. "I just don't want it. Any of it. And I can provide quite well for my son without her money."


"Are you sure? Your mother had hoped you would use the funds to follow your dreams."


Travis heaved a great breath. "No, I don't want it," he said, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Josie's forehead wrinkle pensively and she opened her mouth as though to say something, but she mutely shook her head and said nothing.


"What is it?" he asked her.


"Hmm? Oh, nothing," she said, blinking her thoughts away.


"You were about to say something," Travis told her. "I really would like to know what you're thinking."


She sighed. "Travis, I don't want to sway you. You have every right to decline your mother's money."


"But?"


She glanced at him quickly. "But nothing."


He picked her hand up from where it rested on his and kissed it softly. "Tell me. I want to know."


"I, uh...well, I thought that if your mother really wanted you to use it to follow your dreams, then..."


"Then what?"


Josie licked her lips. "Well...the studio, Travis."


"What about it?"


A faint blush stole up her cheeks. "3.6 million dollars is a lot of money. More than we need to get the label up and running. With it...well, with it, we won't need the investors. We could follow our own dreams and ideas with the studio, and we won't have to answer to the investors demands." She smiled briefly. "It was just a fleeting thought. I know how you feel about suit-wearing, absentee managers telling you how to make your music. But that's all I thought. We don't need your mother's money. With my business plan, and no major problems, we'll be free of investors in ten years."


Travis considered her proposal, and something inside him grew positive. He'd had reservations about starting a label from the beginning. At first, it was that Livie was giving all the control over to him and Josie. Josie, he wasn't so concerned about. She could handle anything, but him? Thank goodness, Josie and Livie didn't expect him to figure out any details. His skills lay in the actual music making. And that was also where he felt apprehensive. Investors were great. They had the money. But with money came stipulations, and that didn't sit well on Travis' gut.


Three million dollars was a lot of money. It wasn't as if he had to take it for his personal use. He could pour it into the studio. His inheritance was guilt-money, anyway his dead mother wanted to color-coat it, but Josie had pointed out a use for it that made sense, without hurting his pride.


Would Livie mind? He supposed that he would deal with that if it happened.


"What do you think about the fund for Tristan...and any other children we might have?" he asked her.


Her cheeks blushed again. "Well...since they can't use the money until they start college, then I suppose the choice should be up to them. You can spend the next fifteen years explaining to Tristan about your mother, and in the end, he can decide what he wants to do with it. I mean...who knows? He might want to enter into one of those expensive medical specialist fields, and if the way my daddy fussed about my college tuition is anything to go by...there are worse things than an education fund, Travis."


Josie stared at him as he twirled those thoughts in his head. She seemed so worried, yet rational, and he finally smiled at her. "I love you," he said softly.


She returned his smile. "I love you, too."


He kissed her fingers again. "Okay. For college and for the studio...hopefully, Livie won't be pissed. She's a little weird about her baby."


"I know...but it'll be okay."


Travis turned back to Mr. Rowe. "What else do you need from me?"


Mr. Rowe seemed relieved. "Just your signature, and as soon as I file the documents with the courts, I'll contact you about setting up the accounts in your name."


Travis stood up and signed on the marked lines. Josie witnessed the signing, and Mr. Rowe handed Travis copies of everything. Included was the death certificate. Travis glanced at it briefly, but his eye caught on one particular line.


"I think there's been a mistake," he said to Mr. Rowe. "This says my mother was born November 1, 1966. Her birthday was November 5th."


"Oh, yes," Mr. Rowe said, "November 1st was her actual birthday. She was adopted on the 5th, was why she - and you, I suppose - believed her birthday was then. Annabelle discovered this fact a few months ago. Her adopted parents had falsified her original birth certificate to reflect the adoption date, and when she discovered the truth, she had it fixed. But she never said if she knew the names of her real parents."


Travis accepted that explanation - after all, it was just as jacked up as the rest of this crap - and was about to stuff the certificate in the folder, but Josie snatched it out of his hand.


"Travis? November 1,

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