A/N: Remember me? Sorry it took so long to finish this one. This chapter is highly theatrical and abstract. I am making use of "artistic license" in a big way. Would a arbitration hearing for a contested will be he conducted like a trial? Of course not. Does it make for a more interesting story? Yup. It's fantasy, just like this entire story. Why start being realistic now? ;) I'm trying to paint a vivid portrait of small-town characters. Again, sorry it's so long, but I didn't want to split it up.
Disclaimer: Despite endless edits, grammar and spelling errors will happen. D & L are not mine. If they were, I would totally play with them like Barbies and make them kiss already! Author is not responsible for the crick you'll get in your back from sitting there reading this longggg chapter.
Chapter 14 - All These Monroes
Walking into Courtroom C, Lindsay was astounded by all the familiar faces she saw. She spotted her fifth-grade math teacher seated next to her junior high tennis coach. Her old babysitter Mrs. Owens waved excitedly to her, as did several more former coworkers. Not only were the faces familiar; they were plentiful. The seats had filled up, leaving over a dozen people were standing against the back wall. Jake was a part of that group, and he gave Lindsay a thumbs up as she passed. Members of the press sat crammed in the benches, scribbling on notepads.
Lindsay joined Allison behind one of the tables that was situated in the front of the courtroom. She ignored the heated stares of her family members at the opposing table.
"You're just in time," hissed Allison, pulling out a chair for Lindsay as the judge entered the courtroom.
Judge Loper was a portly man, who kept an unlit cigar in his mouth most of the time. Lindsay vaguely remembered him speaking at a second grade "Career Day"; she was in the same class as his son. As everyone stood to acknowledge his presence, his voice boomed across the courtroom.
"We're here today to hear the case of Monroe vs. Monroe." The judge peered over the documents before him.
"I've reviewed the cases, and the allegation has been entered as 'Undue Influence'. I see the chief plaintiff is representing her own party. The defendant's attorney is Allison Byers. I'll allow each side to make their arguments, and I will announce my decision after a lunch break. "
Murmurs filled the courtroom, and the judge continued.
"Let me make myself very clear: I understand the amount of public interest is extraordinarily high, but this is still a court of law. Any outbursts, and you will be escorted out by a bailiff. Let's not make a spectacle." He looked towards the opposing table. "The plaintiff may begin."
Silence descended as Rachel stood up.
"Today is an critical day for my family," she began, stalking lazily about the courtroom like an egret intent on spearing a fish. "More importantly, it's a critical day for this entire town. My grandparents Rebecca and Edward Monroe were pillars of this community. They would have wanted to continue to bless Bozeman with their generosity even after their passing."
She turned to stare at Lindsay. "Your Honor, we're requesting your intervention today because my cousin wants to deprive the city of that generosity."
Lindsay suppressed a growl, and squeezed her pen in frustration.
Relax! Doodled Allison on a notepad. I'll roast her like a pig on the spit.
"Enough of the histrionics, Ms. Monroe, get on with it," growled Judge Loper.
Rachel clammed up, then regained her composure. "I'd like to ask a few questions of my father, Mr. Monroe, who is the primary beneficiary in the will."
The judge spoke up. "Can we use first names, please? All of these Monroes are giving me a headache."
Lindsay's uncle came forward, and sat in the witness box. He reminded her so much of her father that she almost couldn't look at him. Although he lacked the tenacity and venom of Rachel, he was still motivated by greed.
"You're a psychologist," Rachel began. "Can you tell me, Dale, how influence by Miss – err, Lindsay – would have affected your parents' will preparation?"
"Objection!" barked Allison. "He's hardly going to be capable of giving an unbiased statement, Your Honor."
The judge nibbled the end of his pipe thoughtfully. "I'll allow it."
Dale cleared his throat. "My parents were very kind-hearted people. They couldn't say no. Especially if it was someone they loved." He frowned at Lindsay.
"In your professional experience, Dad – I mean, Dale, is it possible that people who are influenced by family members can succumb under the pressure, leading them to make regretful decisions which will have a far-reaching impact?"
"Leading," Allison snapped.
"I'll rephrase it," Rachel said testily. "Dale, how would your parents have reacted to pressure from their granddaughter while writing their will?"
Dale shook his head sadly. "They would have done whatever she wanted. She was the only living child of their late son. They left her such a large amount of money; the only reasonable explanation is that they were bribed or guilted into it."
Rachel nodded thoughtfully. "So, you're saying that such kind people could have easily fallen prey to forceful manipulation tactics by the defendant?"
"Exactly," confirmed Dale.
"Thank you, nothing further," Rachel said.
"Miss Byers, any questions?" asked Judge Loper.
Allison hopped out of her seat. "Just a few," she replied.
"So, Dale," she began. "You're a psychologist. Can you tell me your specific area of expertise?"
His cheeks began to flush, and he looked around. "I'm a sex therapist," he admitted.
The court erupted in titters. Judge Loper smirked, and Lindsay even let a giggle slip out. In New York, such an occupation wouldn't be a big deal. But here in the country, it was comical.
Allison had Dale right where she wanted. "Hmm," she said. "Perhaps I'm jumping to conclusions here, but I'm guessing that a lot of those couples you see aren't having issues with composing wills, correct?"
"Correct," Dale grunted.
"So if would be fair to say that you really can't give a qualified professional opinion on the matter of 'undue influence'?"
Dale glared at Allison. She beamed in return. "That's what I thought. Nothing further, you may have a seat."
As Dale rose from the stand, Allison continued, "Your Honor, I'd like to ask Ms. Rachel Monroe a few questions, too."
"That's ridiculous," argued Rachel. "You can't question the opposing side's counsel."
"I can when the counsel is an interested party in the case."
The public sitting in the gallery was watching the events as if it were a tennis match, with barbs being volleyed back and forth instead of a ball.
Judge Loper nodded, and gestured for Rachel to approach the stand. "Go ahead."
"Ms. Monroe," questioned Allison. "You are an attorney. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but didn't you assist your grandparents in the preparation and writing of the will?"
"Yes." Rachel's voice was clipped and sharp.
"This is your signature on the paper, as their attorney?" Allison waved a copy of the will in her face.
Silence.
"Answer the question," directed Judge Loper.
"Yes," Rachel said, exasperated. "It's my signature."
Allison screwed up her face in mock confusion. "Then you must have known that Lindsay was due to receive one-half of the estate. Certainly they would have confided in you that they were being blackmailed, or whatever it is you claim, by Lindsay. Why didn't you talk to your grandparents about it while they were alive? I mean, it surely wasn't a shock to you, correct?"
Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well," she stammered.
"Could it be," Allison continued, "you didn't argue it because you knew that's what they wanted for Lindsay? And you didn't want to make them mad, and risk losing your own inheritance?"
"No, never…" Rachel faltered.
Allison tapped her foot impatiently. "Let me get this straight. You don't think Lindsay deserves a single cent, because she wouldn't utilize the money in the way your grandparents meant?"
"Exactly!" said Rachel.
"Then perhaps you can share with the court your great philanthropic plans for the money?"
Rachel was silent for a few moments, and before she could muster an answer, Allison smiled sweetly at Judge Loper. "Nothing further."
Downstairs, Danny sat idly on a bench. He was alone in the great hall; everyone else had been admitted upstairs. Not knowing what was going on in the courtroom was torture. He had come so far to support Lindsay, and yet he couldn't be there for her single biggest moment. Strolling to the front doors of the courthouse, he gazed out onto the empty street. The hungry press had all gone upstairs to whet their journalistic appetites. Danny looked at the town, so innocent and prim in appearance. He could visualize Lindsay at sixteen or seventeen; then he remembered himself at the same age. What if they mad met back then?
His train of thought was interrupted by the clip-clop of cowboy boots, which signaled that someone was approaching. Waltzing up to him was a blond-haired boy of no more than 17, in a Stetson hat.
"Howdy," he nodded at Danny. His t-shirt read: If it's Called Tourist Season, Why Can't We Shoot Them?
"How you doin'?" Danny nodded back, wary of the fact that the kid must not like out-of-towners.
"You're that fella from New York, right?"
"Yeah. Who are you?" Danny responded curtly.
"I'm Sean Goodwin: reporter," he said proudly.
Danny fought back a laugh. This kid was the press? "A reporter?" he asked, astonished. "From where?"
"The Sentinel. The Bozeman High newspaper," Sean sniffed. "They wouldn't give me a press badge, though. I wasn't allowed access to the proceedings."
"Join the club," sighed Danny. He walked back to the bench and sat down. Sean sat on the opposite end.
"Looks like it's just you and me," he drawled.
"Mmmph," grunted Danny in reply, bored out of his mind. What was going on up there?
"Your girlfriend's hot," Sean announced, swinging his legs back and forth.
Danny raised his eyebrow, stunned for a moment by the kid's gall.
"I know," he said cautiously. "But right now I'm just worried about how she's doing up there."
"There's a way to find out what's happening," Sean said evasively, running his finger over a crack in the bench.
"What are you talking about?" asked Danny quickly, his curiosity piqued. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad to have around after all.
"In the men's bathroom," Sean explained. "If you stand on the toilet in the last stall, you can listen through the vent and hear what's going on in the courtroom." His blue eyes sparkled as he winked at Danny. "Want to try?"
Danny didn't hesitate. "Let's give it a shot," he nodded.
It was time for Lindsay's side of the case to be heard. Allison began by giving an opening statement.
"Your Honor," she stated. "What's happening today is critical to the town, indeed. It's critical because it is a huge waste of time. You'll see that there is no evidence whatsoever that the Monroes were unduly influenced by their granddaughter, Lindsay Monroe. She was their granddaughter, plain and simple. They wanted to be sure she was provided for, long after their passing."
Allison went on to explain the circumstances of Lindsay's adolescence – the death of her father, the abandonment by her mother. She had Lindsay come to the stand, and tell of her experiences of living alone and fending for herself, and describe her relationship with her grandparents. All went smoothly, until it was Rachel's turn to question Lindsay. She stood up and strode purposefully towards Lindsay, a stack of paper in her hands.
"Lindsay, I have here bank records from our grandparents' personal checking account, in the years from 1994 through 1998. According to these statements, you received varying amounts each month for 'living expenses' – anywhere from $200 to $600."
Lindsay remained calm. She had known this was coming. "Since my mother was still alive, we didn't get the life insurance from my father. Our house was paid off, so I lived there, but I was still in school. My part-time job didn't cover the electric bill, or groceries, or insurance…"
Rachel interrupted. "Didn't your grandparents pay for other things, as well? Like your senior trip, your first car? So you certainly manipulated them back then."
"I was sixteen," Lindsay pointed out.
"But wouldn't it be accurate to say that you took advantage of them?"
"I was sixteen," Lindsay repeated. "I was a child."
Rachel was fast losing her cool. "Do you find it interesting that as soon as your grandmother died, you left town? Was it because your meal ticket was no longer alive?"
"Objection! Badgering!" Allison shouted from her seat.
"Sustained," growled Judge Loper.
"No more questions," Rachel announced, flouncing back to her seat.
"Redirect, Your Honor?" asked Allison. When he nodded, she stood and approached Lindsay.
"Miss Monroe, why did you leave town as soon as your grandmother passed?"
Lindsay looked over towards her so-called family, what remained of her blood ties.
"I had no reason to stay," she said softly.
"Nothing further," Allison said.
Danny had to laugh at his current situation. Here he was, thousands of miles from home: standing on a dilapidated toilet in the men's room of a Montana courthouse, with a teenage cowpoke, eavesdropping on a court case. He balanced on the wobbly toilet seat, his neck craned at an angle to hear the voices which drifted through the vents. Someone had scribbled "Charley luvs Rayleen" on the stall door in front of him. He could hear voices, but was unable to decipher most of the words.
Sean, standing on the floor, passed Danny an empty beer bottle.
"Here," he instructed. "Hold this up to the vent, you can hear better that way."
It worked. The glass bottle funneled the sound directly into his ear, and Danny filled Sean in on the testimony as it went along. They exchanged high-fives after Rachel was humiliated several times over by Allison.
"You think your girlfriend's gonna win?" asked Sean excitedly.
"She's going to whip their asses," Danny declared.
Sean pulled a pen and notebook out of his pocket. "Can I quote you on that?"
Both Allison and Rachel made one last plea to the judge; reiterating the points made earlier. Court was dismissed for a lunch recess, to reconvene at 1:00 with announcement of the judge's decision. As she and Allison walked downstairs, Lindsay felt strangely at ease. It would all be over soon: she could go home, move on. Spotting Danny at the bottom of the stairway, she felt a surge of emotion rush through her. She walked quickly to greet him, and when he wrapped his arms around her, she thought she might just melt into him.
"We have an hour to kill," she said, taking his hand and leading him towards the exit. "Let's go grab lunch, and I'll tell you all about it."
"Your uncle's a sex therapist?" Danny asked incredulously, humor dripping from his voice.
Lindsay gaped at him. "You heard? How?"
Danny tossed a grin over his shoulder at Sean as they left the building.
"Oh, I have my sources."
A/N: We're on the home stretch. Three chapters left! The best is yet to come. Thanks as always. ;)