The next day, Sylvia went to see Busby.
“Sylvia, how nice to see you.” Busby’s receptionist, Grace, greeted her enthusiastically. “It’s always nice to see you instead of another of the old men. That’s all who ever come in here is old men, and you know they never have anything interesting to talk about.”
Sylvia smiled at Grace. “Well, I’m afraid today, neither do I. Is Mr. Busby available?”
“I’m always available for you, Ms. Rowland,” Busby said from his office door. “Come into my office. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Coffee would be nice, thank you.”
“Would you mind bringing some in, please, Grace.”
Sylvia followed Busby into his office while Grace went to get the coffee. The office was large. A huge oak desk took up space in the middle of the office. Busby’s black leather chair sat behind the oak desk and two comfortable, brown visitors’ chairs sat across from Busby’s usual spot. There was a large picture window to the right as they came into the office. Bright sunshine shone through the window making the office warm and cheery even though outside it was very cold and windy. But the item in the room that commanded the most attention was the large family portrait that hung behind Busby’s desk.
The dark oak frame matched the desk. It was the four people in the painting, though, that really made the piece fascinating. Busby stood at the back, slightly behind his wife. In front of them were their two children when they were about ten and twelve. All four of them seemed happy to be there, posing for the painting, and also just being together. Just looking at the painting, the viewer could see that Busby was proud of his family and that he loved his wife dearly. It was obvious that his wife loved him just as much as he loved her. And finally, their children’s personality also shone through the painting in a way that a photograph couldn’t have captured. His daughter, the older child, had a mischievous look in her eyes as though she was ready to get into trouble and have fun doing it. Busby’s younger child was pensive. For a ten year old boy, he was more serious than his older sister and always had his nose in a book. In fact, a small table stood next to him in the portrait with a book on it. His hand rested on it as though he’d just put it down and yet was about to pick it up again if only the painter would finish.
“What brings you to the office, Ms. Rowland?”
“I got a phone call last night. From Will Cassidy. He’s been arrested for fighting. He was allegedly in a bar fight and broke someone’s nose.”
“I see. And he called you because he wanted you to pay the bail.”
Sylvia nodded as Grace came in with the coffee. “Will you need anything else?”
“No, thank you, Grace. Please hold my calls.”
“Of course, sir.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.
Busby removed his glasses and set them on the table. “I have received calls from the Cassidys in the past, even when James was alive. They are always asking for money. I hoped that since they had never met you before the funeral, or really at the reading of the will since I’m sure they didn’t introduce themselves at the funeral, that they would leave you in peace. I’m afraid that the only way you will be able to get them to stop asking for money is if you move to a place where they don’t know you’ve gone. Maybe even leave the Lower Mainland.”
“So they’ll keep asking for money?”
Busby nodded. “It’s likely. There’s something you should know about the Cassidy family. James has a drinking problem. William has a gambling problem. Clare and Vanessa both have shopping problems. And then there’s the next generation. They all have spending problems. Gordon has had his license revoked because of excessive speeding. On numerous occasions.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There was a reason that James left everything to you. He knew that they would drain the bank accounts dry within a year. Two at the most. He didn’t want his hard work to go to people who didn’t appreciate it.”
“So what should I do?”
Busby laughed. “I think you should ignore them. I told James the same thing. He asked me years ago what I thought he should do about them. I told him then that the only way they’d learn is if he stopped rescuing them. He grew up poor. His family was very large and there was never enough money to feed and clothe everyone properly. He turns nothing into millions and he and Ruth lived well. Their kids wanted for nothing. Unfortunately, he continued to give them everything they asked for when they should have been getting things for themselves.
“I heard that Jim Pattison has three children. He told them all that his estate was not going to be broken up when he dies. He would leave the whole estate to only one of his three children. He said that the child who had the largest net worth would be the one who inherits everything. And now, not one of his children need his estate. They’re all incredibly wealthy in their own right.
“James Cassidy’s children on the other hand have been living on scraps from their father’s estate for their entire lives.”
Sylvia nodded. “I understand. So what should we do about Will?”
“Leave him to rot in jail. He’ll be out of your hair if he’s in jail.”
“Maybe I should do something. I could bring them all together and give them something from the estate and tell them that there won’t be any more if they run through it.”
Busby shook his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. It’s like the saying, give them and inch and they’ll take a mile. In this case it’s more like give them a dollar and they’ll take a million. They should have been cut off years ago.”
“It’s just hard. I shouldn’t have any of what he gave me. They should have it. Or a charity. And so when they ask for money, I want to give it to them. I don’t feel like it’s mine. There are nights I lie awake and think I should give it all away. And then there are times when I think that I can do something really good with it, I just need to figure out what that is. I just don’t know –” Her voice broke and she had to swallow past the tears that had formed in her eyes to finish. “What to do.”
“You are an extraordinary person, Ms. Rowland. Most people would think of this as though they had won the lottery. They wouldn’t be kept awake at night and crying because they don’t know how to make the world a better place now that they are able.”
“People who win the lottery know there’s a chance that it can happen. It’s something that they hope will happen. I didn’t even know I could hope for this. I didn’t buy a lottery ticket for it. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine.”
Busby sighed and stood up. He moved around his desk and sat in the other visitor’s chair. He reached for the box of tissues on his desk and held it out to Sylvia. “Ms. Rowland. Sylvia. It is yours. I understand your desire to give it all away. But that’s not what James wanted for you. He chose you because he knew that you would do what was right. I know that that is a lot to ask of you, but he did. And right now, you don’t know if you can do it. But James knew you could. And from the short time that I have known you, I know you can do it as well.”
Sylvia took a tissue and wiped her eyes. Then she gave him a wobbly smile. “My mom also says I can do it. I just need to believe it as well, I guess. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”
Busby laughed. “The good thing about getting James’ whole estate is that you can afford to make a mistake or two and get away with it. If you want, I can put together a list of charities that you can donate to and possibly become involved with.”
“That would help, I think.”
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