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CHAPTER 1
My phone seldom rang but one morning it's annoying sound stirred me from a wonderfully deep sleep. Who could be calling at such an ungodly hour I wondered, causing me to miss the end a fantastic dream? I ignored it but on the fourth ring I had a strange intuition it was a call I shouldn't miss. There was no way at that moment I could have imagined my life was about to change in many ways, starting me on perhaps one of the most unusual journeys of my life.
"Mr. Darwin?" Is this Mr. Charles Darwin?"
Sales person possibly? I'd let him have a few moments of my time and hang up.
"Mr. Darwin, my name is Steven Gould and I'm an attorney with the Boston legal firm of Finley, Gould and Strong on Beacon Hill. If you have a moment I'd like to pass along some important information effecting you very much."
There were many people I knew who'd become very nervous at the sight of a police cruiser in the rearview mirror. My reaction to a lawyer calling had the same sickening effect. Several of my more critical newspaper articles in the past led to rather unpleasant experiences with lawyers. The sound of shuffling papers made me curious. Was I in some kind of trouble for something I'd written some time ago?
"Mr. Darwin, I'm the attorney for the late Emil Breck? I am assuming that you knew him."
Cautioning myself before I knew where it might lead, I managed to say a barely perceptible yes.
I wondered if the call related to Emil's personal papers. He'd said if something happened to him and he couldn't finish the work, he wanted me to have them. Was that what the call was about?
"I'm listening" I said, a bit guarded.
"May I ask your relationship to Mr. Breck?" I found the words rather personal.
Don't get tangled up with an attorney an inner voice screamed, sharks making a very good living off the misery of others. The attorney repeated the question when I didn't immediately answer, believing it had to be about Emil's papers. Hesitantly, I replied.
"Mr. Breck and I once worked together on a writing project, that was until about six weeks ago when our relationship ended. I'm curious though before this goes any further. How did you get my number because it's unlisted?"
There was no immediate answer troubling me.
"Mr. Darwin, may I call you Charles?"
"Actually I prefer Charlie.
"Charlie, I'm the attorney who prepared Mr. Breck's last will, actually the fourth revision done in the past six months. The final will was written one week before his fatal heart attack. As his life long friend as well as his attorney, I thought he didn't look well but as you might know, he was a very private man. Some people want to change their wills when they suspect or know for certain their lives are about to change.
"Mr. Breck dictated the words of his new will, actually just a few short paragraphs. As his friend and not his attorney I asked if there was a reason for writing a new will. I laughed at his answer, which was it was none of my damn business.
"Mr. Breck had very few assets but it would be nearly impossible to put a monetary amount on his personal papers. He was a rather quiet man of few words but he did insist his life trove of papers be given to the right person. Charlie, Mr. Breck spoke quite highly of you and asked that all his personal papers be given to you. That was how I got your phone number.
I realized I had not said more than five words.
"When Mr. Breck and I finished our business we talked a bit about the memoir he was planning. I believe our meeting lasted no more than fifteen or twenty minutes and then he left my office, the last time I ever saw him. His death hit me very hard.
"I'd like you to come by my office for the official reading of Mr. Breck's will because you are the heir to his papers. I should also tell you I've asked a young woman, someone who was quite close to Mr. Breck to also attend our meeting as she is to inherit his valuable book collection. You two are the only people mentioned in the will."
Who was the woman, I wondered. He'd never mentioned any woman in his life but obviously she must have been very important to him. I asked if there was anything else I needed to know.
"Only that the will is one page so our meeting shouldn't take more than a half hour. Massachusetts law requires the reading done in a legal office with witnesses but you need to be aware of something else. There's always the possibility a relative might come forward to contest the will's distribution and we'll discuss that in our meeting if it becomes an issue. Oh and one more thing. There could be tax implications on the value of the papers and the books and if there is, I can refer you to a tax lawyer in my firm."
Emil stated I was to take possession of his papers if for any reason he was unable to finish the project, but I was still stunned by the call. I'd almost convinced myself I'd probably seen the last of his papers. Who was the woman in his life?
"Charlie I want to get this settled before the end of the week so can you meet here in my office Wednesday? Do you know where we're located?"
Boston's most distinguished and oldest law firms were located on Beacon Hill, not very far from my own place in Copley Square. Emil lived most of his life on the Hill and I'd probably walked by Gould's office many times. I said Wednesday would be fine, even though I had a class to teach that day.
"Three O'clock then and please make sure you bring along some identification. Given the simplicity of the will it shouldn't take long and if you're wondering, Mr. Breck covered my fees so keep you checkbook home."
I truly had no affection for lawyers but Gould was not the usual adversary claiming I'd defamed someone in my editorials. Even thought Gould sounded sincere, I continued to believe all lawyers made a very lucrative living off other people's troubles.
When I hung up the thought I might actually finish the great man's work hit me as if I'd been punched in the gut. I thought of the question I wished I'd had the courage to ask Emil when he'd asked me to work with him. Why had he chosen me instead of any of the great newspaper people he must have known? I also wished I'd asked why he let me go. Did he know he had a bad heart and little time left?
There was a folder tucked into a nook on one of my book shelves and I hoped it was still there. It was a thick envelope containing a number of hand written notes from Emil to me over the years. Whenever he was touched by something I wrote he either sent praise or criticism. If he had questions about one of my articles he'd ask me to send along my thoughts.
I'd never seen his rare book collection, nor had he ever talked about it. Even though I spent countless hours at his place, the books must have been hidden behind the scores of cardboard boxes filled with his papers. Suddenly my mind was on fire.
The meeting was a day and a half away and I realized it would be impossible to not think about Emil's personal papers. If they were officially mine as Gould insisted, I'd have a lot of work to do just to get them all to my place. Looking around I wondered where I would find the room for all the cartons.
Across the street from my place in Copley Square was the ancient Boston Public Library. Curious about Gould and his law firm, I thought it wouldn't hurt to search for information that might tell me who I'd be dealing with.
I actually discovered more about Gould's law firm then I really needed to know. Steven Gould was the great-grandson of the firm's founder, Ezra Gould, originally from North Wales. He came to America penniless but according to an article, he managed to put himself through school, eventually studying law. The legal firm occupied it's current building for nearly one hundred and fifty years, designated an historic Boston landmark in 1930. Copley Square was a short trolley ride to Government Center, then a five minute walk to Beacon Hill. As much as I tried to put the papers out of my mind I could not, trying to force myself to concentrate on an upcoming lecture I'd be delivering to Northeastern University sophomores, the same day I'd be meeting with Gould.
At last the day arrived for the meeting. I found myself walking Boston's historical Freedom Trail to get to the law firm, a trip back in time in old revolutionary Boston. I hadn't been to Beacon Hill in a few years but as I walked about I realized nothing had changed and nothing probably would.
The neighborhood had a world class reputation where the rich and famous lived. The Gould building was a block from Louisburg Square, an enchanting collection of Greek Revival buildings, many still home to the upper class of Boston. I'd read several books about the neighborhood for one of my college courses, learning where architect Charles Bulfinch and painter John Singleton Copley once lived and where Louisa May Alcott spent her childhood. Jenny Lind once resided there.
Staring at the polished brass name plate on the front door, I wondered if the Strong in the legal firm was Milton Strong, one time governor of Massachusetts and abolitionist during the Civil War years. If I remembered the basement of the Gould building was one of the stops on the Underground Railroad.
A burnished sign with the Massachusetts coat of arms next to the building pointed tourists and locals across the street to an ancient burial ground. The overgrown cemetery was surrounded by a rusted iron fence and primeval looking trees. It was the final resting place for many early Boston patriots, including Ben Franklin's parents and John Hancock. The Gould building had a front row seat, looking down upon one of the most historic and often forgotten places in the city. What a gem I thought.
Mr. Gould walked into the waiting room, a man I thought my own age. Instead of an expensive suit he wore sweatpants and sweatshirt and seeing the look on my face he acknowledged he'd just come from the company gym after his daily workout.
He asked if I had any trouble finding the building so I told him I was somewhat familiar with Beacon Hill, working and living in the city for many years. Looking past his oversized desk my eyes were drawn to the picture window and the view below of one of Boston's premiere Revolutionary War burial grounds. I'd been inside the cemetery once a long time ago with my students and it impressed me greatly then, not recalling if I noticed the Gould Building at the time. Attorney Gould pointed to an area near a tall beech tree saying proudly one of his relatives was buried there. I wondered if it was Daniel Gould, one of the men accompanying Paul Revere on his famous ride. When he took a phone call I looked over the photographs on the walls; Gould with politicians, most notably a young John F. Kennedy.
We chatted about our mutual acquaintance Emil Breck and I explained our recent work together. Looking at the great grandfather clock in the room, I wondered when the mystery woman might arrive.
"Why don't we begin" the attorney announced.
Attorney Gould removed a leather folder from his center desk drawer, the firm's name etched in large letters of gold. Inside was a thin folder which I assumed was Emil's will. It also contained a letter addressed to me.
The will was short and sweet as Mr. Gould explained on the phone, music to his ears he declared. Mr. Charles Darwin is to receive sole possession of all my personal papers the second paragraph stated. I almost shouted out with relief and happiness. I asked the attorney if he knew much about Emil's professional life as a journalist. At one time he was known by everyone who read the news I related.
"I was actually a devoted follower of his writings he said, "And like so many others, I learned his opinions were always forthright although at times quite irritating. I got to know him some twenty-five years ago when the firm did some legal work for him. I was so impressed by the man I actually attended a reading when he spoke about his reporting years in Europe. I can still remember him saying just because Germany, Japan and Italy were no longer evil powers, Fascism was still very much alive and well in the world, and had to be destroyed. We were in touch from time to time. I once convinced him to have dinner with me here in the law dining room."
When the attorney took another call I got up and walked to the large window, my eyes drawn once again to the ancient burial stones in the graveyard. Tourists snapped pictures, a few doing grave rubbings, oblivious to the sign warning against it.
When he hung up, Mr. Gould asked, "Did Mr. Breck ever show you his book collection?"
Shaking my head no, I replied I knew he was an avid collector but had no knowledge of what books he'd purchased or owned.
"Mr. Breck's books were kept somewhere in his apartment I believe and a few times I'd spy a book on an end table when we worked together. The titles knocked my socks off as well as the author's signatures" Another phone call interrupted our conversation.
"That was my secretary telling me Miss Grande will not be joining us today. She called to say something came up at work at the last moment and she'd have to reschedule. Since she's not here I'd like to tell you a bit about her because it appears you were both very close to Mr. Breck.
"Miss Grande, Sucre was born in Peru, living here not as an American citizen, but with a green card allowing her to work. She is employed at the Harvard Library although I'm not exactly sure what she does. When you finally meet her I think you'll find her quite extraordinary. Miss Grande has been blind since the age of twelve yet she manages to enjoy a very full and active life, entirely on her own. I met her several times with Emil and was quite touched when she spoke about the traumatic events of her childhood in Peru. I think Emil was quite happy to leave his collection of fine books to her.
"From what I understood she was the only other person to visit him in the last few years besides you, as you know he was pretty much a recluse. He invited her to come visit everyday after he'd discovered the young lady had a very special interest in literary classics.
"On one of Emil's visits to this office he told me about Sucre and how he'd met her quite accidentally in one of the dining halls at Harvard. One of the things he learned was her love of classical literature and in time, he mentioned his rare book collection. To her great surprise he invited her to come by his place one day so he might read a few of his great books aloud to her. They became close friends and to repay Emil's kindness, Miss Grande began preparing lunch meals. I believe they spend hours together, usually during the middle of the day for nearly two years, reading and dining. About six months ago I called to check on him and he told me he'd read nearly fifty classics to Sucre, the highpoint of his day."
"Okay, enough chit chat" he announced. "I'll keep Emil's will under wraps for a while longer until Miss Grande can reschedule a meeting. I know the intent of the will and to allay any concerns, it states you are to inherit all his personal papers. As to Miss Sucre Grande, I have another handwritten note in his own words for her."
When Gould stood up I suspected our time was up. Walking me to the door he took a key from his pocket, explaining it would open the front door to Emil Breck's apartment. I was so overwhelmed I didn't remember my walk to Emil's place.
"The superintendent of Emil's building insisted with no exceptions everything had to be out of his apartment in three days or less because a new couple had put a deposit down. "Three days is all you've got to get the crap out" said with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Whatever is left behind will end up in a trash dump."
I disliked the man immediately.
"I'm counting on you to get all those cartons and furniture out," said with a snarl.
With Emil's key in my pocket I made my way to his apartment to take stock of what could be found, with the thought the landlord could and would make things difficult.
The moment I opened the door to Emil's apartment I was shockingly overcome with a great sorrow because Emil was not there. Feeling woozy I grabbed hold of the door steadying myself. I half expected to see Emil and the thought he was no longer alive hit me much harder than I'd expected. Looking about his place I sensed it would be near impossible to get everything packed and out in three days.
Regretfully, if I worked too quickly there would be no way to keep all the papers in the right order and I'd create a mess. When the super insisted three days I thought that was generous, but one long look around the place told me the task was going to be formidable. There was nothing I could do until morning so I locked the place up and walked back to my apartment in Copley Square. Looking about my place, a literal bachelor pad, I was slapped in the face with the reality the rooms looked smaller then I'd ever remembered. The image of overflowing boxes and cartons in my place seemed daunting.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Emil's List"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Bruce Weiss.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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