people were trying to cram into the modest house. I was amazed at how many people knew and liked Frank.
Frank's sister, Zoe, did her best as a hostess. She was a tall, black-haired woman, with a gentle smile and kindly eyes. She stood smiling and nodding, patting hands and being patted. I extricated her from an earnest man wearing dark glasses and a yarmulke who had been talking to her for several minutes, and brought her a piece of cake.
'Oh, Eddie, thank you so much,' she said. 'I know these people, but half the names don't come. And I don't want to offend them.'
'You're doing very well,' I said, not bothering to correct her.
She smiled. 'It's such a shame about poor Frank. Had you seen much of him lately?'
I wasn't sure whether by calling me Eddie she had just got my name wrong, or whether she thought I was Lisa's brother. So I decided to answer blandly. 'Quite a bit,' I said.
'Aunt Zoe!' Lisa rushed up and gave her aunt a huge hug. The older woman beamed. 'Has Simon been looking after you?'
Aunt Zoe' looked momentarily confused and then glanced towards me apologetically. 'Yes. Yes, he has, dear. How are you?'
'Oh, fine, I suppose.'
And how are your potions?'
'Bubbling away,' she answered. 'Can you believe all these people? I don't recognize most of them.'
'Neither do I. It's extraordinary to have so many of Frank's old friends here at one time,' Zoe said. 'I wish he could be here to see them all.' She looked around the room, somewhat bemused. 'I wonder how long we've got to go. What time is it, dear?'
Lisa glanced down at the watch on her aunt's wrist, before looking at her own. 'Nine thirty.'
Aunt Zoe seemed to sigh.
'It's very good of you to do this,' Lisa said. 'We couldn't possibly fit everyone into our apartment.'
'Oh, don't worry about it,' Aunt Zoe said. 'I'll miss him.'
Zoe was accosted by a childhood friend of Frank's who wanted to talk to her. Luckily, she remembered his name.
'She looks OK,' Lisa said.
'Yes,' I said. 'But she called me Eddie.'
'No, really?'
'And you saw how she had to ask you the time.'
'It's so sad,' Lisa said. 'I remember so clearly playing with her when we were kids. She used to come up to Marsh House and stay with us before she was married. She was so much fun. We used to play all kinds of games exploring the creeks and the marshes. And in a year or two she might not remember any of it.'
'Yes, she will,' I said. 'Don't they always say that old people forget what they had for breakfast, but remember clearly everything that happened decades ago?'
'She's not old, Simon. She's fifty-two. She's ill.'
Aunt Zoe was suffering from the early symptoms of Alzheimer's.
Are you talking about Zoe?' Carl, her husband, had joined us. He was a heavy man with a grey beard, several years older than his wife, who wheezed after any sort of exertion. He was a professor at Northeastern University in some kind of social science.
'Yes,' said Lisa. 'How is she?'
Carl sighed, a heavier wheeze than usual. 'You know she lost her job at the Library?'
'Oh, no,' Lisa said.
'But she's not too bad yet. She forgets names of people, names of books – that was her problem at the Library, and she has some trouble telling the time. But she still remembers me, and she always knows where she is and what day it is. There's a lot further to go. Unless the drug Frank recommended really works.'
'Drug? I didn't know Dad recommended any drug?'
'Yes,' said Carl. 'It's a new drug for Alzheimer's they're testing.'
'Is it neuroxil-5?' Lisa asked. 'Made by a company called BioOne?'
'That's right.'
'Does it work?' I asked.
'It seems to. She's been taking it for seven months now, and it looks like things have stabilized. She doesn't seem to be getting any worse. She had to take something called a Mini-Mental State exam, and they'll check her again in a few months to see how she's doing.'
'That's good news,' I said.
'I've seen some of the other patients at the clinic,' Carl went on. 'It's scary. Some of them have forgotten everything. Who their spouse is, where they live, their children. They get really angry and frustrated. One woman said her husband had lost his smile. I pray that never happens to Zoe.'
He glanced across to where his wife was talking to Frank's old friend, laughing at a shared memory. I, too, hoped that neuroxil-5 worked.
The next morning, Lisa, her mother, brother and I all set off downtown for Frank's lawyer's office to discuss his will. As we waited in the law firm's smart reception area, an uneasy silence settled on us. Up to this moment, none of us had talked about Frank's legacy. Other things had seemed more important. We all knew he was wealthy: it had seemed in bad taste to discuss how wealthy he had been, and how wealthy we were going to be. The thought had probably not even occurred to Lisa. Eddie in particular seemed nervous, his long fingers played with the teaspoon by his cup. Lisa looked calm and Ann had an air of studied indifference.
After five minutes, the lawyer bustled in. His name was Bergey. He was a balding portly man, with a mild face, but intelligent eyes. He introduced himself and led us through to his office.
'Thank you all for coming in to see me today,' he said, having seated everyone round a table. 'I'm speaking to you in my capacity as Mr Cook's executor. Now, ordinarily I would simply mail a letter to the beneficiaries of a will, but in this case, I thought it made sense to take advantage of you all being in the same place at once, and explain the will in person.'
Bergey seemed nervous. Nervous and serious. He had our attention.
'First, Mr Cook held an insurance policy of three hundred thousand dollars, which is to be divided equally between his former wife and two children.' He smiled quickly at us, and cleared his throat. I had the impression we were coming to the tricky bit.
'Second, the will. It's actually very straightforward.' He looked down at the papers in front of him. 'Mr Cook's estate goes in its entirety to Elizabeth Rebecca Cook, his daughter. The value of the estate is difficult to determine at the moment, since so much of it comprises the carried interest in funds managed by Revere Partners. But excluding that, it should be at least four million dollars. As always, it will take a while for the probate process to run its course.'
He looked round the table nervously. We were all watching Eddie.
You could see the anger boiling up inside him. He grasped the teaspoon he had been fiddling with so tightly his knuckles were white. He glanced quickly at all of us, and then addressed Bergey. 'He can't do that can he? He can't leave everything to just one of his children?'
'I'm sorry to say that he can,' the lawyer replied. 'Of course, you will receive the hundred thousand dollars from the life insurance policy'
'Yes, but his estate will be worth millions. I have a right to half of that.'
'I can well understand your concern, Mr Cook. But I drew up your father's will myself. He made it after careful consideration. He was quite clear in his intention, which was to leave his entire estate to his daughter.'
'How could he do that to me?' protested Eddie. 'Did he tell you why he cut me out?'
'No, he didn't do that,' said Bergey.
We all looked away. We knew why Frank had ignored his son in death. It was because his son had ignored him in life.
'You're behind this aren't you?' I continued looking at my hands. 'Yes, you, Simon. You're behind it.'
I glanced up at him. I hadn't realized Eddie was talking to me. 'What?'
'Eddie,' his mother put her hand on his sleeve.
