The Folder My Father Left

This was Bettina Merriman — my attorney, and, besides my father, the only person who knew the whole of it.

“Good evening,” she said, setting the briefcase on the table’s edge.

“Sorry I’m late.

The interstate was a parking lot.” Mr.

Hollingworth stiffened.

“This is a private family matter.” “Five attorneys, a pre-drafted surrender of rights, and an unrepresented heir,” Bettina said.

“That’s not a private family matter.

That’s tortious interference and coercion, and given the threats I’ve reviewed, it is edging toward extortion.”