The Chesswoman Ch 03

So before I begin regaling you with my newest adventure with my magical chess set, let me talk about my finances. As you probably remember, I'm named after a granduncle, because his will stipulated that his wealth would go to the first child named after him. Even though they didn't hesitate to name me after my granduncle, I knew it really bugged my parents to have to name me Jack, just to get the money. Considering that my other siblings are named Richard, Sebastian, Catherine and Sabrina, you can imagine how much it grated my parents to name me Jack. Me, I've always liked my name. But I'm getting off subject.

My Granduncle Jack actually left both me and my parents money. After taxes, I got ten million dollars, and they got ten million dollars. Of course, the will stipulated I couldn't touch my money until I was 21, and then I could only spend the interest. The principal was beyond my reach until I turned 25. My parents were named co-trustees of my accounts and earned thirty thousand dollars a year for their troubles. Yeah, not a lot of money in and of itself, I suppose, but it was money they didn't have to really do anything for, and it was on top of their own money, so they couldn't complain.

Now, I vaguely knew they could withdraw money from my account to pay for expenses related to me, but it was with the stipulation that they could only draw from the interest, and not the principal. My ten million was invested very conservatively, but even so, ten million dollars creates a lot of interest (no pun intended).

OK, I admit I've never known a lot about finances. I just knew I was going to school, playing baseball, having fun and not having to worry about money. I knew sometime in the vague future that I would take control of my money if I wanted to but, to be honest, I was happy to let Mom and Dad keep on doing that, like they had been doing all my life. OK, sure, once in awhile, they would give me a lecture about how they expected me to remember my brothers and sisters when I was able to access my money, but hey, I was going to do that anyway. My friends didn't know how much I was worth, because when I was a kid it just didn't seem important, and when I was in high school, well, it just didn't seem important. Plus, since I couldn't touch the money or prove that I had it, there was no reason to talk about it.

But back to the present. Both me and my parents inherited a lot of money from my Granduncle Jack, and they were watching my money, at least until I was out of college. I thought that was that.

The day after I had my 'encounter' with Jessica Simpson was a Saturday, and I usually slept in on the weekends until nine or ten. I guess I must have been really tired, because I was woken up at noon by a knocking on my front door. I don't know if it was my 'encounter' with Jessica Simpson, or all the built up anxiety that had accumulated over the years about my magical chess set finally being resolved, or what, but I was out cold.

As the knocking continued, I grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt off my bedroom floor and made my way to the door. There was a messenger waiting there for me. He was only a couple of years older than me, and looked a little peeved that he had to wait for me to get to the door, but otherwise he was pretty polite. He handed me a letter, had me sign for it, then headed out.

I looked the envelope over as I closed the door. It was one of those fancy envelopes that has a thread count, and in the return address area was the name of a law firm, with their named spelled out in Old English style letters. I sat down and opened the envelope. The letter inside was short and to the point. The law firm wanted to talk to me about my inheritance from my granduncle Jack, and gave a phone number I should call them to make an appointment "at my earliest convenience."

I didn't recognize the firm's name, but to be honest, the only law firm name I would recognize was the one my Dad was a partner at. I decided to give the number a call, expecting to receive a recording or maybe an answering service, since it was Saturday.

Instead, I got a real live person who worked for the law firm. When I told her who I was, she immediately told me they had been expecting my call, and asked when would be a good time to set up an appointment for me to come in and discuss an additional inheritance from my Granduncle.

The way she emphasized the word 'additional' caught my attention. "I--uh ... well, my Mom and Dad usually handle such things," I managed to stutter.

"We're aware of that, sir, but considering the nature of this additional inheritance, my employers would like to talk to you directly. When would be a convenient time?" she asked again.

My last class on Monday ended at three, so I told her anytime after 3 p.m. Monday. She made me an appointment at 3:30 p.m. and told me she would text me directions to the law firm from my campus, which freaked me out. I mean, if she had caller ID, she could see my phone number, but in our short conversation, I hadn't mentioned where I went to college. And usually, except for junk mail, everything always went to my parents' address.

Yeah, I know, you can search for anything on the internet, but somebody had been searching me, and I was more than a little freaked out by that fact.

So I stayed around the apartment that weekend and didn't even think (well, not much) about making one of my chess pieces full sized again. And that wasn't easy, because I had a lot of ideas concerning Jessica Simpson. But I also had this creepy feeling of being watched all the time, so paranoia ended up trumping horniness.

All day Monday, I was like a zombie, and I couldn't tell you what went on in my classes, other than I must have managed not to draw any undue attention to myself. The day dragged on, but finally my last class was over, and I made my way to the law firm downtown. The law firm had the top four floors of an upscale tall building, and I was to later learn that this was merely one of their branches, which handled me because of the convenience of the location to me.

After I identified myself to both the receptionist in the lobby and the security guard at the elevators, I rode the elevator up to my appointment. I found my Dad in the lobby of the law firm, waiting on me.

"They contacted you too, Dad?" I asked. In retrospect, I guess I should have called him and Mom, but as I think I've said before, I always felt their was a little strain between me and my parents due to the whole money thing. Still, my folks were a couple of states away, so I thought it was pretty cool that my Dad would make the trip for this.

"Never mind how I came to be here, young man," my Dad answered. My Dad was always calling me 'son', 'young man', or something along those lines. Dad went to great lengths to call me anything but Jack. "You should have contacted me when you received notice of your additional inheritance."

"Yes, sir," I said, hanging my head. "It ... well, it caught me off guard."

"We'll talk about this later. For now, I want you to sit quietly in the lobby while I handle this new development."

"Actually, Mr. Sherrington," a new voice said, "You will remain in the outer office while I have a private chat with the beneficiary of my firm's deceased client about the nature of his inheritance."

This pronouncement had come from a fairly large, dignified looking man standing at the door of one of the hallways leading away from the law firm's main lobby.

"Now see here..." Dad started to say, and I could see he was getting worked up.

"No, Mr. Sherrington," the large man replied, cutting my Dad off. "I am allowing you stay in our offices out of professional courtesy, a courtesy I will withdraw if you force my hand. Your son is an adult in the eyes of the law and, as such, may conduct his affairs as he sees fit. If he wishes you to accompany him into these discussions, we will of course accommodate his wishes, but that decision is his, sir, and not yours."

Dad turned to me. "Son, tell this man you want me as your counsel in there."

To this day, I couldn't tell you why I did it, but I turned to Dad and said, "I'll have them send you in if I feel like I'm getting into trouble, Dad." I nodded at the large man, who simply nodded and said, "If you will follow me, young Mr. Sherrington."

I think Dad would have followed me anyway, but a man with a jacket that had the emblem of a badge sewn on his right breast pocket took a step toward Dad. And knowing my Dad, it wasn't a physical confrontation he was worried about. It was the possibility of causing a scene that he dreaded.

The large man introduced himself as Ronald Stooksberry, and began explaining the vast fortune I had inherited. And I do mean vast. It seems that my granduncle Jack was a lot richer than the twenty million he had left my parents and me. I wasn't Bill Gates or Oprah rich, but I wasn't too far from their neighborhood. It seemed Uncle Jack had done very well for himself.

Let me apologize in advance if I get something wrong in my telling of everything that Mr. Stooksberry told me, but I wasn't then, and I'm not now, a legal expert. That was my Dad. So I probably got some stuff garbled. But Uncle Jack's instruction to the law firm handling his affairs was to make it look like that between me and my parents, we had only inherited twenty million dollars (yeah, I know what you mean, only twenty million dollars!). Which made sense, I guess. I would have the benefit of a lot of money, without being crushed by this huge fortune Uncle Jack had amassed. Although it was kind of strange how Uncle Jack could have all that money and no one knew about it.

Anyway, the law firm not only earned a substantial fee for managing all the remaining inheritance that I wouldn't even learn about until I was eighteen, they were also paid a retainer fee to act as my shadow guardians. You know, step in if my parents were ripping me off too bad. But I think the theory was, if my parents were bad people, they would only know about a fraction of my fortune, so they could only rip off that fraction.

The conditions on the bigger fortune was similar to the one I had on the ten million, except I couldn't touch the interest until I was 25, and I couldn't touch the principal until I was 30. What I did get was a debit card that I could make purchases with as well as cash withdrawal without having to ask anyone, within the limits of a normal debit card, which was great. And I inherited houses. Plural.

Yep, I had inherited houses. Or mansions. Or chalets. Whatever you want to call them. Big beach house on the North Carolina coast, and a beach house down in southern Florida. I had a chalet in Switzerland, and a fourth house in the Southern Pacific, on its own island. And each had its own maintenance budget, so that all I had to do was call up and say, "I want to go down to Miami for a couple of weeks" and, when I got there, the house was stocked and I had a housekeeping staff waiting for me.

And if I wanted to buy a car, or a sailboat, or something like that, I could go to Mr. Stooksberry and tell him what I wanted to buy, and he could release the cash for the purchase. If I convinced him, that is. The vibes I got from Mr. Stooksberry were that he would spring for a car and might spring for the sailboat, but not for a million dollar sex and cocaine orgy.

While I was taking this all in, Mr. Stooksberry told me about another instruction my granduncle had made. As soon as practicable, I was to visit the beach house in North Carolina. "Your granduncle was a collector of various oddities that he stored at that particular house," Mr. Stooksberry explained, "And it was his wish that his heir would spend a few months examining them. Am I right in believing your semester is about to end, Mr. Sherrington? Might I suggest you take a sabbatical during the Spring to accomplish this task?"

"Well, that's going to be kind of difficult, Mr. Stooksberry. I'm on a baseball scholarship." OK, I realize I didn't need a scholarship, even before I got this bigger inheritance, but I had made a commitment. Yeah, I know, I was a freshman who would probably be on the bench for awhile, but still...

"A very commendable attitude, Mr. Sherrington, but might I suggest a solution? If you were to inform your college that a pressing family matter would require you to take the semester off, and if your college were to receive a sizable donation about the same time from this law firm, then I beleive that would go a long way toward smoothing any ruffled feathers caused by a half year's absence."

It probably would, although I hated giving up my first spring at college. On the other hand, I was really curious about the house in North Carolina. Considering what I had pulled out of the chest my granduncle had left me, I was really curious about the "various oddities" he kept there.

"That sounds like a plan then, Mr. Stooksberry. If there's nothing else, I guess we can get my Dad in here and sign whatever papers I need to sign."

For the first time, Mr. Stooksberry seemed very uncomfortable. "Yes, well, Mr. Sherrington, at this time I need to share some information with you. You see, one of the duties my firm has is to monitor and audit the trust that your parents manage on your behalf."

And Mr. Stooksberry brought out a folder of printed sheets and began explaining them to me.

Well, the good news is my parents never touched the principal, and never made any withdrawals for themselves or the rest of the family. Every withdrawal they made from my trust went to money they spent on me.

For example, when I was nine, I broke my arm. My parents had withdrawn money to cover the medical expenses that weren't covered by their insurance. That seemed fair to me. Mom and Dad had five kids to take care of, and even though we were an upper class family, money spent on medical care is money that can't be spent on something else. Like an entertainment system, for example.

And when we went out clothes shopping for me, or something similar, the cost was taken from my trust fund. Well, that's what it was there for, I reasoned. I mean, that was part of the guideline, that Mom and Dad could make withdrawals to help cover expenses to me.

And then I saw when we went on vacation, the cost of my airfare and such were deducted from the trust fund. Well, I reasoned, that just meant more money for the family as a whole to enjoy on a vacation. It made me kind of proud that I was doing my share when our family traveled, even if I didn't know it at the time.

Then I saw that the cost of the Mustang my parents had gotten me my senior year had been expensed to the trust fund. And that wasn't all. When I went through the itemized list, I found birthday and Christmas presents my parents had gotten me, all deducted from my trust fund.

Mr. Stooksberry was gracious enough to let me sit there in silence. I guess Mom and Dad hadn't broken any laws, and it wasn't like I was broke, or that the original ten million dollars hadn't accumulated a lot of interest in the intervening years. As I understood the terms of the trust fund, no rules had been broken. It just made me feel empty, knowing I had bought my own Christmas presents for all my life.

"Mr. Stooksberry, my Mom and Dad can't touch this new money and stuff in any way, can they? I mean, just because they're trustees of one fund, doesn't mean they can touch the other, right?"

"No, Mr. Sherrington, they cannot," he answered, his tone perhaps a little less formal than it had been before. "The instructions of your inheritance are crystal clear on this matter."

"And since I'm eighteen, can I transfer my original trust fund to this new stuff?" I asked hesitantly.

"Certainly, Mr. Sherrington, though I must warn you that the more stringent restrictions will apply if you do."

I gave a tired grin. "Mr. Sherrington, right now, I just want to go to college. I got four houses, after all, so I'll always have a roof over my head. I got the debit card, so I'm not hurting if I need to buy something. Maybe twenty-five years from now, when I know something, I might want to move some big money around, but right now, well, I've got everything I need. Do I need to sign something to make everything happen?"

We spent the next couple of hours doing just that, with Mr. Stooksberry explained the various papers I was signing. Yeah, I know, Mr. Stooksberry and his partners would make money from handling my new wealth, and I guess there are ways to make money just by handling megasums, even if you don't touch it. But I'd still be able to live like a Kardashian if I wanted to, and I knew Mr. Stooksberry wouldn't be giving me a Christmas present bought with my own money.

When I walked back into the lobby, my Dad was still there, fuming. He stood up and looked like he was going to say something, but then must have seen something in my eyes.

"Hey, Dad, you want to come down and see the detail job I got on the car I gave myself when I was a high school senior?" I shoved the printout of the audit that Mr. Stooksberry had given me into my Dad's hands.

"Son, I..."

"My name is Jack," I said quietly as I left my Dad in the lobby and took the elevator down.

I was told that my parents didn't contest the transference of my trust to the care of my new legal representatives. My Mom tried to call me, but I wouldn't answer the phone if the ID showed her number. My brothers and sisters talked to me, but they all seem to think I was overreacting. Maybe I was. I don't know. But I had always known my parents had felt a mild resentment toward me, because they had been forced to give me my name in order to inherit a lot of money. But that resentment never stopped them from spending that money, or my money for that matter. And I guess I no longer wanted to be the family pariah when I didn't think I had done anything to deserve it.

The fall semester was coming to a close, and I lost myself in my studies in preparation for my finals. I did think of the chess set occasionally, but to be honest, I just wasn't interested. I was just that depressed.

After my finals...well, that was a different matter. I went out with my buddies and got really messed up. When I came stumbling home, I was incredibly horny. Fortunately for everyone who might have been involved, I walked into my living room, locked the door behind me, and proceeded to pass out on the floor. As the saying goes, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was comatose.

The next morning I was hungover, but not as bad as I could have been. By that evening, I could pass for human again. And I thought about the chess set.

In about a week, I was planning to drive over to North Carolina and check out the beach house and the "oddities" stored there. I figured if the house was as secluded as the description of it said it was, I could really do some experimentation with my chess set. But that was a week away, and I really wanted to do something right now.

So I came up with a plan to do something interesting that would be quiet enough not to attract the attention from my neighbors.