Death Of A Dream Maker by Katy Munger Page B

replied crisply. “Who is this?”
    “This is Sam Ascher. I represent the estate of Max
Rosenbloom.”
    “Yes?” Her voice grew fainter. The coincidence was a
bit... alarming.
    “I realize that you are probably still deeply upset
about Max's death.”
    “Yes, I am,” Auntie Lil agreed. “I loved him very
much.”
    “I also realize that this may seem a bit...
unseemly.” He paused. “The haste and all... But I'm being pushed
somewhat by the family. They seem very, uh, anxious to settle the
estate.”
    “I've no doubt that they are.”
    “They've asked for an official reading of the will
tomorrow. We...” He coughed nervously. “We had a preliminary
meeting today, and I tried to let them know that there were still
some legal issues that had to be explored, that it was complicated,
that it was premature—” His legal disclaimers sputtered to a halt
and he took a deep breath. “Well, let's just say that maybe it is
best that we get this over with as soon as possible.”
    “Get what over with?” Auntie Lil demanded.
    “If you could just be here tomorrow at two o'clock,
it will all become clear.” He gave his address.
    “I assume I may bring representation with me?” she
asked.
    “Of course, of course. Although this is all very
friendly and... Oh, bring whoever you want,” he conceded irritably.
“This whole thing has become one big pain in my ass. Never in my
life have I had to contend with an entire... pack of people
clamoring for my license. I don't know what possessed Max. You must
be some kind of a woman.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Auntie Lil said stiffly.
    “He's always been so levelheaded. With the exception
of his wife, of course.” He coughed again. “You did, uh, know he
was married, did you not? That could create problems here.”
    “What difference does that make?” Perhaps this was a
prank call after all.
    “Because if any promises were made... Verbal
promises, I mean. They would have to be taken in the context of his
current...” He hesitated and fumbled on: “I mean, sometimes we say
things in the privacy of our bedrooms. People do get carried away.
You have to realize that he may have been captivated by your youth
and that a compromise may be in your best interests in this
situation—”
    She cut him off swiftly. “Young man, I do not know
what you are babbling about and I do not care to listen any longer.
I will see you tomorrow at two o'clock. Perhaps you will be
coherent by then.” She hung up the phone and stared down at the
receiver. What had that crack about her youth meant? Good Lord,
what youth? She was the oldest person she knew.
     
     
     Auntie Lil was a practical woman and would have
preferred real representation. Unfortunately, her lawyer was unable
to attend as he had recently divorced his wife and was entertaining
a young woman in Aspen. Given these circumstances, Auntie Lil
settled for quantity over quality.
    T.S., Casey Jones, and Herbert Wong all accompanied
her to Sam Ascher's office. Casey masqueraded as her niece and wore
an iridescent bottle-green dress for the occasion. Herbert Wong
wore an impeccably conservative suit, as he planned to give the
impression—but not actually claim—that he was Auntie Lil’s
lawyer.
    Given the hostility that greeted her when she
arrived, Auntie Lil was grateful for the support. A gray-haired
secretary led them down a nondescript hall to a back conference
room. They had arrived intentionally late and found the Rosenblooms
assembled in a glum circle around a large mahogany table. Though
there were a few strangers—obviously lawyers—interspersed among the
family, no one seemed to be leading the group. A burly man in a
navy sport jacket sat apart from the others, huddled in a too small
chair that had been pulled into a corner. He checked the new
arrivals out with professional thoroughness, then returned to
scowling at his shoes.
    Although it had not been her intention, one of the
few remaining seats happened to be at one