Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
“We are going to draft a new estate plan tonight, Avery,” I said.
“I want you to bring the red leather binders to the townhouse by six,” I added.
He stopped polishing his glasses and stared at me.
“The entire structure?” he asked. “Beatrice, that plan took three years to build. We cannot simply tear it apart on a Saturday.”
“We can,” I said. “I want to prepare a charter for a charitable housing foundation.”
Avery adjusted his glasses, his fingers lingering on the frame. “For the downtown properties?”
“For single mothers in the city,” I said, keeping my voice cold and even.
“We will fund it with the entire twenty-two million,” I said. “I want the draft ready for my signature tonight.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then slowly nodded, his briefcase shifting against his leg.
“I will have the preliminary documents prepared,” he said.
The heat in the main sanctuary of St. Andrew’s was heavy and smelled of beeswax and damp wool.
I walked down the center aisle, my back straight, aware of the eyes of fifty Boston families on my silver hair.
