Property of a Noblewoman (2 page)

“I don’t know when someone can be there,” Jane said honestly. “I’ll do the research on Mrs. Pignelli, to find out if she’s deceased, and I’ll have to turn the information over to my boss. It’s up to her who to send, and when.” Hal stared out the window as she said it. It was snowing harder, laying a thin white carpet over the icy sleet. The streets were getting more treacherous by the minute, which was often the case at that time of year.

“I understand,” Hal said, sounding matter-of-fact. He knew the court had an overload of cases. But he had done what he was supposed to do, and followed procedure to the letter, as he always did. Now it was up to them.

“We’ll notify you of when we’re coming,” Jane assured him, thinking of what he had told her about the possible value of the contents, and a moment later they hung up, as she sat watching the icy rain from her office. She hated days like this, and couldn’t wait to go back to school and finish. And the holidays had been depressing too.

She hadn’t been able to get home to her family in Michigan for Christmas, and she and John, the man she lived with, had been trapped in the apartment, studying for months. He was getting his MBA at Columbia Business School, and was due to graduate in June too, and with the pressure of papers and exams, things had been stressful between them. They had lived together for three years, and had gotten along well until the past six months, in the mounting tension before graduation. And both of them were starting to look for jobs, which was causing them anxiety too.

He was from L.A., and they had met in school. They shared a small, unattractive, furnished apartment near Columbia, in a rent-stabilized building on the Upper West Side, and their battle against the cockroaches that infested it made it a less than charming place to live. They were hoping to rent a nicer place when they both found jobs after graduation and could afford it, although her parents still wanted her to come back to Grosse Pointe to live, which wasn’t in her plans. She was going to stay in New York and wanted to practice law there. Her father was the CEO of an insurance company, and her mother was a psychologist, although she hadn’t practiced since Jane was born. And they were unhappy that she didn’t want to return home, since she was their only child. She hated to disappoint them, but she was excited about pursuing a career in New York, and had warned them of it all along.

Jane knew that no matter who got assigned the Pignelli case, Harriet would expect her to check the death records first, to determine if Mrs. di San Pignelli was still alive, and she rapidly typed her name and date of birth into the computer. The response she got was quick. Marguerite Wallace Pearson di San Pignelli had died six months before. Her last known address was in Queens, and she had died there. It was not the same address that Hal Baker at the bank had in his records, which was an address in Manhattan near the bank. And given Mrs. di San Pignelli’s age, Jane wondered if perhaps she had no longer remembered she had the safe deposit box, or had been too ill to remove her belongings from it before she died, and dispose of them herself. In any case, she was no longer alive, and someone from the surrogate’s court would have to go through the contents of the box more thoroughly to see if they could find a will among her papers.

Jane filled out a form with the details, and walked it to Harriet’s office, just as she was leaving for lunch, bundled up in a down coat with a knit cap and scarf and heavy boots. She often went home to check on her mother during lunch, and looked like she was going to the North Pole as she glanced at Jane when she walked in. Harriet had the reputation of being tough on clerks and law students, and she seemed to be unusually hard on Jane. Jane was a pretty young woman, with long blond hair and blue eyes and a terrific figure, and had the look of someone who had grown up with money, no matter how discreet she was, and had all the advantages Harriet had never had. At twenty-nine, Jane had her whole life ahead of her, and an interesting career.

In contrast, Harriet had lived with and cared for her sick mother, was in her early fifties, hadn’t had a relationship in years, and had never married or had children. Her life and job felt like a dead end.

“Just leave it on my desk,” Harriet said when she saw the form in Jane’s hand.

“Someone will need to go to the bank,” Jane said quietly, not wanting to annoy her. “The subject died six months ago. They’ve been holding the box for three years, according to procedure, and they want us to empty it now.”

“I’ll assign it after lunch,” Harriet promised as she hurried out.

Jane went back to her office and ordered a sandwich from a nearby deli to eat at her desk. It seemed better than going out in the miserable weather. While waiting for her lunch to come, she did some minor paperwork.

She had made good headway with the routine tasks she had at hand by the time Harriet came back from lunch, looking worried, and said her mother wasn’t doing well. Jane had left two completed files on her desk. It was tedious work, but Jane was meticulous and had made few mistakes while she was there and never the same one twice. She had been a paralegal before going to law school, and Harriet admired her work ethic and attention to detail. She had even told several people in the office that Jane was the best intern they’d had, but she was sparing with her praise to Jane. She called Jane into her office an hour after she returned from lunch.

“Why don’t you go to the bank, and go through the contents and their inventory,” she said, referring to the Pignelli case. “I don’t have anyone else to assign to it for now.” She handed her back the sheet on the Pignelli case, and Jane nodded. She had been to only one other inventory since she’d been there, but it didn’t seem complicated to her. All she had to do was confirm the bank’s inventory, and bring the contents of the safe deposit box back with her, to be put in the safe at the surrogate’s court, until the items of value could be sold, and the papers archived for the next seven years.

Jane called Hal Baker at the bank that afternoon to make the appointment, which was sooner than he had expected, and he explained apologetically that he was going on vacation for the next two weeks, and had a training session the week after that. They made the appointment for four weeks later, on the day after Valentine’s Day, which Jane didn’t point out to him, but it was fine with her anyway. There was no rush, and it gave them time to place the regulation ad in the newspapers. She jotted down the appointment and they hung up, as she took out the standard form for the notice. The process of trying to locate Marguerite di San Pignelli’s heirs had begun. It was just another ordinary day at the surrogate’s court, trying to track down heirs, and dispose of estates when there were none.

JANE TOOK THE
subway to the stop nearest the Metropolitan Bank, four weeks to the day after her initial conversation with Hal Baker. It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and that morning and the day before had been rocky. She and John had had an argument while she was rushing to make toast, pour cornflakes into a bowl for herself, and make coffee for both of them. She burned the toast she had put in the toaster without bothering to check the setting, and spilled the cornflakes just as John ambled into the kitchen in boxers and T-shirt, looking dazed. He’d been out studying with friends the day before, at someone’s apartment. She had heard him come home at three o’clock in the morning, but fell back to sleep before he made it into bed. And he totally forgot it was Valentine’s Day, although she had bought him a box of chocolates and some cards, and left them in the kitchen for him that morning. He took the box of chocolates with him to share with his study group, and he had no gift, flowers, or cards for her. As far as John was concerned, Valentine’s Day had been canceled this year.

“What are you in such a hurry about?” he asked, helping himself to the coffee she’d made, while she swept up the cornflakes and then buttered the piece of burnt toast for herself. He looked exhausted and was clearly not in a good mood as he sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip of coffee. He still hadn’t acknowledged Valentine’s Day, neither the day before nor today. He was never great about holidays, or dates, and with two major papers due, Valentine’s Day meant nothing to him this year. He was totally focused on his work at school. He had been good company and fun to be with until he got overwhelmed in the final months before they graduated. Normally independent but good-humored before, now all he thought of was himself and what he had to do to graduate and get his MBA degree. Some days she felt like she didn’t even exist to him.

“I have to inventory an abandoned safe deposit box today,” she said, looking pleased about it. At least it was something more interesting to do than her usual fare, buried in the paperwork on her desk.

“Is that a big deal?” He looked unimpressed. It sounded boring to him.

“Probably not, but it gets me out of the office, and it gives me a chance to do a little detective work. We placed a notice in the newspapers to alert possible heirs, and we’ve had no response in four weeks.”

“What happens if no one turns up?”

“Then we sell anything of value in the box, after it has been abandoned for three years and a month, but we keep the papers for another seven years. The money goes to the state.”

“Is there anything important in that box?”

“Supposedly some jewelry that might be valuable, according to the bank. I’ll check it out today. It’s kind of sad, but interesting too. It’s hard to imagine that people would just forget about their stuff, but the woman was pretty old. Maybe she died suddenly, or had dementia in her final years. Any chance of our having dinner tonight?” she asked, trying to sound casual and not wanting to put pressure on him. But as soon as she said it, he groaned.

“Oh shit. It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Or it was yesterday. Thanks for the chocolates, by the way,” he said, glancing at the date on the newspaper on the table. “I’m sorry, Jane. I forgot. I have two papers due – there’s no way I can do dinner. Will you accept a rain check for a couple of weeks from now?” He looked genuinely apologetic.

“Sure,” she said easily. She had suspected as much – he was obsessed with school, and she understood. Her law school schedule and its demands on her had been grueling too, but her grades had always been stronger than his. “I figured. I just thought I’d ask.” He leaned over and kissed her, and smiled when he noticed her red sweater. Holidays meant a lot to her, which he always teased her about. It was a corny side of her he thought was sweet, and blamed it on her growing up in the Midwest. His parents were in the film industry in L.A., and so were officially more sophisticated than hers.

Jane looked pretty in a short black skirt and high heels, with her long blond hair pulled back for her meeting at the bank. He loved her looks and enjoyed spending time with her when he didn’t have two papers due, and his final project to work on. They had made no plans for the future and lived their relationship day to day, which suited them both. They were focused on their careers. She had no time or desire for marriage now, she wanted to establish herself first and so did he. They agreed on that.

“I’m going to be out all night with my study group,” he said as she got up and put her coat on. She was wearing a red coat that day too, to mark the holiday, which he thought was a little silly, but it looked good on her. And the high heels she was wearing showed off her legs, which John always said were one of her best features. “We’re meeting at Cara’s house,” he said vaguely, glancing at the newspaper she’d left on the kitchen table. He knew that Jane didn’t like her. Cara looked like an underwear model, not a candidate for an MBA. John always said she was smart as a whip and admired her entrepreneurial skills. She had run and sold a business for a handsome sum of money before going back to school for her MBA, and at thirty-one was two years older than Jane. She was the most attractive single woman in the group, and John studying with her always made Jane uneasy. As far as she knew, he was faithful to her, and she expected that. But Cara always seemed like a threat to her. Her ample bosom was always a little too exposed, and she looked sexy in tight T-shirts and jeans, with lots of cleavage visible at all times.

“Will the other guys be there?” Jane asked, looking nervous, and John was immediately annoyed.

“Obviously. What difference does it make? It’s not a sex therapy group. We’re working on our papers for the end of the term, and Cara knows a lot more about running a small business than I do.” It was always his excuse for being with her. They had done several projects together.

“I just wondered,” Jane said softly.

“Jane, I don’t need pressure from you. And if she helps me get my grades up, I’m damn glad to be working with her.” He was in no mood for a jealous scene, but somehow the conversation degenerated, and within five minutes they were arguing about Cara. It had happened before. Jane always said that Cara flirted with him, which John vehemently denied, while Jane told him he was naïve. The conversation went nowhere, John stalked off to the bedroom looking irritated, and Jane left for work, feeling slightly sick.

They argued constantly these days about everything and nothing. They were experiencing a major slump in their relationship, and Jane knew it was only because of the pressure on both of them as they finished graduate school, and she tried to be patient with his moods, permanent exhaustion, and lack of sleep, and to not worry about his proximity to Cara. She trusted John, but he and Cara spent endless hours together, studying, alone and in their study group. It was obvious that Cara had the hots for him, and Jane didn’t trust Cara for a minute. She hated nagging him about it, but her nerves were frayed too.

John was in the shower when Jane left the apartment, and she had that unsettled feeling one gets after an argument, where no one “wins,” and she felt foolish now in her red sweater and coat for Valentine’s Day, a day late. It was just another work day for her, and she wanted to look serious at the appointment, since it was only the second time she’d gone to do an inventory, and she wanted to be professional about it.