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balloon. Must be if
they can dig helium out of it, right?’
    ‘ This ,’
Fox said, chuckling, ‘is a more appropriate conversation for an
evening out.’
    ‘Silly is
always appropriate.’
    ‘Not absolutely always…’
    New York Metro.
    The invitation to the
reading of Felix Kenan’s will had come as something of a surprise
to Sam. Yes, he had liked Felix a little more than many of his
clients, and Felix had, he thought, liked him back, but being asked
to the reading of the will… No one had even notified him of funeral
arrangements! Well, the house was full of things the old man had
loved and perhaps he was planning to hand out a few memories to the
people who had touched his life. There seemed to be few of
those.
    Sam sat in one
of his more formal black suits on one chair set amid a short arc of
identical chairs. Beside him a girl who had always been introduced
to him as Marie had taken a seat, a handkerchief scrunched in her
hands. She would snivel into it periodically and Sam, used to
sizing people up for his work, had decided that Felix’s maid had
been quite fond of the old man too. The rest of the people there
were not anyone Sam recognised: most of them looked distinctly
corporate, though one older one was looking more sad, maybe an old
friend of the deceased.
    The lawyer, a
human because companies generally thought a human touch was
important for this kind of occasion, was tall, thin, and had a pale
face reminiscent of an axe. Sam liked that and wondered whether
Felix had picked his legal representative simply for the look of
the thing.
    ‘Gentlemen, and
lady,’ the man intoned, his voice suitably dolorous, ‘perhaps we
could begin?’ No one really needed to settle themselves. No one had
a reason to be there other than the reading. ‘This should not take
an excessive amount of time. The provisions of Mister Kenan’s will
are quite simple.’
    Well, that was
good. Sam sat through the preliminary boilerplate without really
taking it in. He had never been to a reading like this before, but
he imagined that they followed a rote which had been going on since
mankind developed an urge to write down the disposition of property
after death. He could certainly see Victorians following the same
process, and given the amount of old furniture in the room, they
might have done it in similar surroundings.
    ‘To my most
loyal, patient, and persevering maid, Marie Shaftsbury’ – the
lawyer’s eyes lifted to look at the girl, who bit her lips, eyes
widening – ‘I leave the sum of fifty thousand dollars and the hope
that she finally takes a chance on the career she really wants to
pursue.’
    Marie let out a
little whimper, her fists clenching around her handkerchief and the
look on her face suggesting that she was determined not to start
blubbing.
    ‘To Brian
Melville, my old friend and manager, I leave my collection of film
memorabilia and the sum of five thousand dollars in the hope that
he can find a good home for it all. He was always as much of a
lover of theatre as I was, even if he couldn’t act worth a
damn.’
    The older man
on Sam’s right gave a snort of a laugh and muttered, ‘That sounds
like old Felix.’ Sam was surprised, mainly because he had not known
that Felix had ever acted.
    ‘The remainder
of my worldly goods,’ the lawyer went on, ‘my home and whatever I
have left in my bank accounts, I leave to Samuel Peter Clarion.’
Sam felt his throat closing and knew his eyes were trying to burst
out of their sockets. ‘I have no family remaining so I choose to
give what I have to someone who will appreciate it and who has
given me long hours when I could forget my solitude. You’ll need
the money. This place needs some work. I hope I haven’t spent it
all.’ The lawyer took in a breath. ‘That ends the disbursements.
Mister Clarion, if you would contact my office in the morning, we
can arrange the transfer of ownership and payment of funds. Mister
Kenan’s accounts are not