A Demon Inside

Chapter 3-2

Hunter awakened to the sound of rain tapping on his window and the low rumble of thunder. His bedroom was so dark that when he sat up, he needed to turn on his bedside lamp. This would have been the perfect day, he thought, for Nana’s funeral. The wind outside was in a frenzy, and its howl at times was almost like a scream. Hunter huddled down farther in his sheets and blankets, wishing he could remain in this warm cocoon all day.

But he had an appointment downtown on LaSalle Street in a little more than an hour and needed to get himself pulled together. He reluctantly threw off the covers and went to his window to gaze outside at the gray lake and the whitecapped waves as they hurled themselves against the beach and breakwater just south of their house.

My house. Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we? Nana had never discussed what she was leaving to him, but he assumed everything. Who else was there?

Hunter went online to check the Metra schedule and saw a train would be leaving from the Main Street station in Evanston in thirty-five minutes, enough time for a quick shower, some coffee, and the walk to the station.

As he stared through the green-tinted windows of the train, Hunter realized he was actually looking forward to the visit with the lawyer. Not because of any greed, but simply because he would have his questions answered, and because it would be nice to speak to someone who had more to offer him than condolences.

And Beaumont House. Perhaps at last the truth about Beaumont House.

Ian’s office was a few minutes’ walk from the train station, and Hunter hurried through the rush hour pedestrian traffic and arrived only five minutes late. Ian’s middle-aged receptionist, a heavyset woman with a helmet of bleached-blonde hair, smiled as he entered, and Hunter had the sense she already knew who he was.

“Good morning, Mr. Beaumont. I’ll let Mr. Mateer know you’re here.” She picked up the phone.

Hunter sat in the waiting room. He grabbed a copy of Entertainment Weekly and turned to the book reviews. Before he even had a chance to begin perusing that week’s offerings, the receptionist told him he could go in.

Even though Ian Mateer was approaching eighty, he was still a handsome, fit man. His hair was thick and the kind of silver darker-haired men must envy. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow, and his stomach as flat as a man half his age…at least one who did regular sit-ups. His handshake was warm and his smile genuine as the two greeted each other and sat down. Behind Ian’s head was a panoramic view of downtown Chicago. Clouds cut off the tops of skyscrapers.

Ian smiled. “Hunter. I do want to say how much I’ll miss your grandmother. She was one of my closest friends, and I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone quite like her again. She had quite a sense of humor.”

Hunter nodded.

“How are you holding up?”

Hunter shrugged. “Under the circumstances, I guess you could say I’m doing okay.” Would you just get to it? I’ve had enough sympathy to last me for a while. Hunter was surprised at the force of his own thoughts.

Ian nodded. “That’s good. It’ll get better, especially if you appreciate all the good things she brought to your life.” He paused. “Well, I can see from the expectant look on your face, we’ve had enough small talk.”

What? He can read my mind? “I’m sorry, Mr. Mateer. I’m just not myself right now. Maybe I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

Ian held up a placating hand. “It’s okay. I understand.” He reached to his left, opened a drawer, and brought out a sheaf of papers. “Well, why don’t we get down to business?”

Hunter stared at the tall stack of papers, amazed.

“Don’t look so surprised. Your grandmother’s assets were quite large and complicated.” Ian sighed. “Sorting all of it out has been quite a job.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Mateer.”

“Please, call me Ian. I don’t need a whippersnapper like yourself making me feel older than I already am.” He shifted some of the papers. “Besides, there’s no need for thanks. It’s all part of the job. As you can see, what we have here is pretty complex. Stella has made copies of everything for you to take home, of course, but I took the liberty of boiling it all down into nuts and bolts. I hope you don’t mind.” Ian pulled a legal pad from a corner of his desk and set it atop the stack of papers.

“I don’t mind. I appreciate it.”

“Okay, then. Let’s cut through the legalese and get you apprised of where you stand. First, I have to tell you that estate taxes, medical bills, and other debts left a quite substantial figure, one that will continue to grow as the final bills come in.”

Hunter frowned.

“But not to worry. Your grandmother’s assets will more than cover them, and we here are already set up to handle p*****t, so you need not worry about a thing.”

“That’s good.”

“And the good news is that even after everything is paid off you are still very well provided for. Your grandmother left you, with stocks, funds, and cash combined, over three million dollars.” Ian smiled. “Which means, of course, that if you invest appropriately—and we can handle all those details as well through Merrill Lynch—you should be able to do whatever you want with your life. Travel. Study. It’s all set up in a trust fund that we will take care of administering. Okay?”

Hunter felt the same sense of numbness he had experienced at Nana’s funeral and immediately afterward. Was any of this even real? The whole thing seemed so businesslike and formal. He had a sudden image of Nana sitting across from him in the kitchen as they played a game of gin rummy. She laughed with glee as she shouted “Gin!” yet again. He thought of her smile, her warm blue eyes, and how she could make the best vegetable soup he had ever tasted. What did any of this have to do with her? It just made her seem more far away and lost to him. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he hoped he was surreptitious enough to hide them as he stretched and casually rubbed at his face.

“Hunter, are you okay?”

Obviously he wasn’t surreptitious enough. Hunter shut his eyes, forcing the grief and sorrow back down, and mustered up a smile for Ian. “Yeah, yeah, sure…I’m okay. Just thinking about her. All of this money seems like nothing compared to what she gave me when she was alive. And I’m not talking about material things.”

“I know. I know. Your grandmother was a kind and generous woman.” Ian stared down at the polished surface of his desk. “There are other assets, but those have been earmarked for charity. It’s all in here.” Ian thumped the ream of papers before him. “That includes the house in Evanston, but it won’t be made available for sale until a year from now, so you’ll have plenty of time to get a condo or whatever you like. I can put you in touch with an excellent realtor.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I answer any questions for you, Hunter? I’ll have Stella type up my summary and send it to you. You are already set up with a money market account at Merrill Lynch. Money should never be something you have to worry about. If it is, just give me a call. Okay?”

“Of course, Ian. Thank you so much.”

“It’s my job.”

Hunter felt dark inside. He had thought of Ian Mateer as a great family friend, but all of this just made him seem like someone in his grandmother’s employ, someone who helped himself generously to her sizable assets to pay off the mortgage on his Lake Forest home.

Ian started sorting the papers before him, and it was obvious to Hunter that the meeting was concluded. Even though it wasn’t even ten o’clock, Hunter felt exhausted, confused, and out of sorts. Ian looked up at him.

“That’s about it, buddy, in a nutshell. You’re free to get out there and make the most of your day.” He smiled.

Ian started to stand.

“What about Beaumont House?”

Ian sat back down. His gaze went to his desktop and the stacks of paper. Without looking at Hunter, he asked, “What about it?”

“Well, Nana mentioned it to me. It was kind of odd, because I’d never heard of it. I just assumed the Evanston house was our only property. But I’m sure she left it to me. Isn’t there something in all those papers about it?”

Ian sighed. Hunter could see that a bit of sweat had formed at his hairline. He still wasn’t looking back at him, even though Hunter’s gaze was firmly on Ian. Ian at last took a deep breath and looked back at Hunter.

“Well of course I know about it. I only didn’t mention it because I thought it wouldn’t interest you.”

“Ian, I don’t think you need to make assumptions for me.”

Ian spread his hands of in front of him placatingly. “Look. It’s an old, decrepit house up in Wisconsin. Your family has not lived there for generations. That’s why you’ve never heard of it.” Ian shrugged. “The only reason you still own it is because most likely no one could ever unload it. And I would imagine that it’s falling down, overrun by weeds and rats now.” He shook his head. “Really, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. It’s just that I thought I was doing you a favor by not mentioning something that I simply couldn’t see as having any interest or value to you.”

Hunter thought of Nana then, on her deathbed, wheezing, and her dying words to destroy the house. How could something that important have no value to him? What was going on? “It’s nothing, then?”

“Right!”

“And you were going to do what with it?”

Ian shrugged. “I would have seen if the property could be sold at auction. Then I’d put the proceeds in your trust fund.”

“Without even consulting me?”

Ian hung his head. “I apologize. I just assumed.”

Hunter stood up. He was angry but did not want that anger to flavor his words or his actions. But he needed to be firm. “Well, I think I need to have a look at this property before it’s just sold off. It’s my right. Unless this is part of the parcel earmarked for charity?”

Ian said quietly, “It’s not. She left it to you.”

Hunter took a step toward the door. “I would like to see it. And then I’ll decide what will happen. Maybe the land can be parceled out or something. Who knows? But I need to make these decisions.” None of what he was saying was what really mattered. Hunter was more concerned about why Nana had made him promise her—on her deathbed—to destroy the house.

Ian shook his head. “Sure, Hunter. But take it from me. You don’t want anything to do with this. It’s out in the boonies. We’ll get you set up in a nice condo on Lake Shore Drive with beautiful views, or maybe a nice loft on Printer’s Row? A young guy like you—”

Hunter cut him off. “A young guy like me wants to see his legacy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you think!” Hunter took a breath, reining in his fury. “Look, I just want to see it. And it’s really not your business or place to try and talk me out of that. Now, can I get some directions from you or at least an address? Or do I need to find it on my own?”

Ian gave Hunter a nervous smile, meant to calm him down. “I see you’re not going to be refused. I think the place would be next to impossible for you to find on your own, in spite of high tech doodads like GPS.” He stood. “How about we take a drive up there on Saturday?”

“That would be perfect. Thank you, Ian.”

“I didn’t have anything planned anyway. And the autumn colors up there should be beautiful. Maybe we can buy some cheese so it won’t be a completely wasted trip.”

“I look forward to it. And not to worry, Ian.” Hunter felt some of his anger begin to ebb. “If it’s as bad as you say, I probably won’t be interested anyway.” Hunter let loose a short laugh. “Hey, I probably wouldn’t be so interested right now if you hadn’t been so dead set against it. You got my curiosity up. So blame yourself. Anyway, Nana said I should destroy the house.” Hunter looked away from Ian’s suddenly intense stare. “I’d just like to see what motivated her to ask that of me.”

Ian said, “Your grandmother was a sensible woman. I’m sure she had a good reason.”

Hunter thought again of his grandmother’s dying wish. “She didn’t share it with me. I’d just like to see what the fuss was about. What time on Saturday?”

“Eight? Is that too early?”

“Perfect. I’m an early riser anyway.”

“Okay then. It’s a date. I’m telling you, you’ll wish you had stayed home and watched TV.”

“I hate TV.” Hunter hurried from Ian’s office.