Unfinished (Historical Fiction) - By Harper Alibeck Page 0,5
I marry before thirty, I lose the funds. Grandfather was careful to make sure you have no control,” she added. “Likely for moments just like this,” she muttered.
“Come in,” Stone announced to the callers at the door, ignoring Lilith's words.
Jack Reed walked in, a tight, professional expression pasted on his face. When his eyes settled on Lilith he paled, swallowed hard, and tried to look at anything other than Lilith or John, finally settling on the cuticle of his left thumb.
This did not escape John Stone's attention.
“Mr. Reed, you've come here to converse with me. Not with your digit.”
Reed startled and made eye contact with his client. “Yes, sir.”
“And who have you brought?”
An enormous man stood in the doorway behind Reed. Easily a foot and a half taller than Lilith's five foot even frame, he resembled a bear more than a man. Thick, coarse auburn hair slicked into submission couldn't be tamed; full-formed coils sprung from the lumpy, greasy mess at odd angles, attempting escape. His eyebrows were nearly as thick as one of Lilith's wrists, but the bright green eyes under the woolly canopies scanned the room with intelligence and cold calculation. He looked to be Lilith's age, and she pondered his weight. His chest mirrored the circumference of a wagon wheel. He was, nearly literally, a mountain of a man.
Reed cleared his throat and stepped in the room, clearing the way for the giant to step into the light. His suit was of a professional cut but at least ten years out of date. The seams strained against his build, and based on the stretch of wrist and his neck that were naked, the strain came from sinew and muscle. Not fat.
“This is my clerk. James Hillman.” John Stone had stepped forward to shake James' hand but stopped cold.
“A clerk? I see.” He pulled back abruptly and sat behind his desk, leaving James in mid-pose, leaning forward with his arm at a right angle, shaking hands with the air.
Lilith marched to fill her father's empty space. “I am Lilith Stone. Pleased to meet you.”
James' hand swallowed hers, the skin warm and hardened by calluses. He clasped as if shaking a man's hand. Lilith's shoulder shook before she could steady the muscles. She attempted to return the pressure and strength. One corner of his mouth turned up and Lilith could not determine whether the grin was conspiratorial or mocking. She decided it was likely a blend of both. As his flesh receded from hers a deep curiosity replaced it, her interest in Mr. James Hillman piqued.
The men remained standing until Lilith sat on a small settee, her back as straight as a steel beam. She scanned the room with eyes like a bird of prey, finally settling on Reed. The lawyer squirmed and shuffled aimlessly through a thick file in his hands, murmuring nonsense to himself.
James searched the room for the largest chair and found a Morris covered in thick, black leather. His hips fit neatly in the straight-backed, low-slung piece of furniture, his back reclined fully. When Lilith sat in it, she needed only the first half-foot of seat to sit up properly, feet flat on the floor.
She watched him pull a fountain pen and scribe notebook out of a tattered leather business bag. Ignoring her stare, James focused on Reed and Stone as they attempted to disinherit Lilith.
“Mr. Stone, unfortunately I've found no holes in the legal construction of this trust.”
“Unfortunately!” Lilith chided. “Unfortunately, the law is sound? A lawyer, one charged with the careful and neutral application of the law, is saddened that the law cannot be circumvented to disinherit me? What a fine, moral specimen you are.” She winked and Reed turned the same shade of red as the Japanese maple leaves outside Stone's library window.
“Blast. Well, then, what of McLean?”
Lilith shot her father an incredulous look. “The mental ward? Are you serious? You tried that a few years ago, father. It didn't work then and it won't work now. This is precisely why women need the vote, and need equal treatment under the law. If I were a man I'd be hailed as a powerful, virile icon in a wealthy family. Instead, you treat me like a hysterical female afflicted with nothing more than – ” she gestured at her breasts and torso “-- this!”
“Stop!” barreled the elder Stone. James tried, unsuccessfully, to turn a laugh into a cough, spilling ink all over his notes and his lapel in the process of covering his