Molly Bain was one of Ben’s favorite people. Widow of Sam Bain, also a favorite, Molly had soldiered on after Sam’s death twenty years ago.
Molly had three daughters and eight grandchildren and doted on and worried about them all constantly. She professed no favorites and Ben knew she was sincere in saying it. They were certainly not equal in how they treated Molly. But Molly and Ben knew that was the universal fate of parents and grandparents.
Molly hated to talk about her will or about death, her’s or friend’s or anyone else’s. But occasionally she was compelled to broach the subject of her’s with Ben. Two of her daughters saw to that; they were not shy about bringing it up with her or about saying what they wanted her to do with her assets when she died or sooner. The third daughter, Sally, never mentioned the issue, and for that Molly was forever grateful.
When Molly called Ben for an appointment, Ben said what he always did. “How about I drive out to your place to see you Friday afternoon about four?” And Molly said, “That would be lovely.”
The two old friends sat on Molly’s porch on Dusty Pine Plantation and gazed out over the mill dam pond, studded with ancient cypress. Soon wood ducks would be swooping in to land on the still, dark waters. And in a few days Ben and Sam Nixon MD would be fly casting popping bugs among the cypress knees from a Jon boat propelled by a silent electric trolling motor.
“I need to talk to you about what’s fair,” Molly opened. Ben lifted his short glass containing three fingers of The Macallan diluted with a splash of club soda-no ice, and took a first sip. Molly lifted her tall glass containing ice, gin, a slice of lime and club soda for her first sip of the day. Then they touched glasses in comradeship.
“As you know, my Ann has six children and my Mary has two and Sally has none. Ann says, “Mom, you know you love your grandchildren equally. I think you should leave your estate in nine equal shares, one to Sally, two to Mary and six to me. That way your grands are treated equally, with Sally treated as a grand since she has no children.”
“Interesting,” Ben said, trying not to let the irony he felt be revealed in his voice. “What does Mary say?”
“Mary says the only fair way is three equal shares to Ann, Sally and her,” Molly said.
Ben said, “I know Sally won’t say, except to say “What’s fair is what Mom thinks is fair. She and Pop earned and saved what she has, and she can leave it to whomever she chooses.” Sally had said this to Ben in his library-conference room two days before, having come there on her own motion to alert Ben to the developing family dynamics.
“What have you done for the grands up to now,” Ben asked.
“Funded a 529 Plan for each in an equal amount. Should yield enough to cover four years of in-state-state-college-or-university tuition, according to my accountant,” Molly said.
“What do they say about your stuff?” Ben asked.
“Ann and Mary have given me lists of what they want. They want a lot and a lot of the same things, especially among the paintings and family heirloom furniture pieces. Before you suggest it, I am not going to make lists of what each is to get. They are going to have to sort it out among themselves.”
“Beware the pots and pans,” Ben said. It was among his favorite sayings, reminiscent of the many family squabbles he has observed involving dividing a parent’s ‘stuff.’ That exercise seemed to drag up childhood incidents when a child felt neglected by a parent or abused by a sibling or both. It was not about money, just about the ‘stuff’ a child coveted, or so they said. Ben suspected it was often about long-held resentment of perceived parental favoritisms or neglects.
Of Molly’s three children Sally was Ben’s favorite, indeed the favorite of all outsiders who knew the family. A widow since her husband’s death in the First Gulf War (he had been a Marine), Sally had given up a teaching job to move in with and look after her mother after her father’s death. That was twenty years ago. Even then Molly had been physically frail.
“What do you think is fair, Ben Reach?” Molly asked.
“I agree with Sally that ‘fair’ here means what you think is fair, Molly. You have the right to leave everything your husband left in trust for you among your children and grands and charities you choose, and you can leave your own assets to whomever you choose,” Ben said.
One thing was certain. Dusty Pine would need to be sold. Too expensive for any of the children and unworkable for them to share. Molly had said she wanted to impose a conservation easement on it in honor of her husband. Ben had told her a billionaire buyer might impose it as part of a deal to buy it from her husband’s trust after her death to the family’s advantage.
“I want you to give me your thinking on what’s fair as if you were in my shoes, Ben,” Molly said.
“I am not sure whether that is ethical for a lawyer, Molly,” Ben said.
“Then take off your lawyer hat and tell me as my friend,” Molly said.
“I’ll think about it and let you know, Molly. Now, how about a dividend,” Ben said, and reached for the trolly holding the liquor, ice and mixers.
* * * * *
The following Monday, Ben returned to Dusty Pine and joined Molly on the porch.
After libations were poured, Molly said, “What’s the plan, Ben Reach?”
Ben took a first sip of The Macallan and began.
“This is just for you to think about, one way of hundreds to divide things.
“First let’s think about Sally. She has lived with you twenty years, made it possible for you to continue to live on Dusty Pine. When you are gone she would like to move to a nice southern beach town for winter and spring and to a little high mountain town for summer. I suggest you leave her enough off the top for her to do that. She does not want fancy houses, a small condo in a beach town, a rental place in the mountains so she can try different places.
“Mary and Ann have husbands with plenty of money, as you know. I suggest you leave the rest equally to Sally, Mary and Ann. If Mary or Ann wants her kids to get part of her share she can disclaim part of it (Ben was pretty sure neither would be disclaiming any).
“For your stuff, I suggest this. Get it appraised now. The appraiser will take pictures and make books with the pictures and values and group items that should go together (like a dining table and matched chairs). When you die the appraiser can update the numbers. Your trustee (Sally should be one Trustee) will give each daughter a book. They will each list items they want numbered by preference. Each will get the items she chooses that no other daughter chooses, up to a third of the aggregate value. For items more than one daughter chooses the taker will be chosen by lot. When a daughter has been allocated items worth a third of aggregate value she drops out.
“If a daughter predeceases you, her share goes to her children equally. If Sally predeceases you her share is eliminated or if you want it could be divided equally between all the grands. Think about it a while. Call me if you have questions. Now, let’s have a dividend.”
* * * * *
Molly called Ben next morning at nine. “Write it up,” she said.