MY MAN PENDLETON
Copyright Elizabeth Bevarly
Oh, Mama, what have you gone and done now?
Kit McClellan clapped a hand over her open mouth and marveled at what her mother’s attorney was telling the family she had left behind. Although the reading of a will wasn’t usually performed these days with the formality it once was, Hatton Abernathy had gathered the remaining McClellans together to do so, thereby fulfilling the late Lena Hensley McClellan’s final wishes.
And, evidently, to let fly a couple of the late Lena Hensley McClellan’s final zingers, too.
“The entire estate is to be placed in trust for two years,” Mr. Abernathy repeated, directing his words toward Kit’s father, Holt McClellan, Sr. “No one—neither you nor your children, nor anyone else for that matter—will be receiving an inheritance any time soon.”
To Kit, the announcement was immaterial. Frankly, she couldn’t care less about her mother’s money, and would gladly surrender every nickel if it meant bringing Mama back. Being rich had never made any of them particularly happy, anyway. Except, maybe, her father. She turned her attention to him to see how he was handling the news.