They sat across from the girl.
And her mother.
Who had driven through the night.
When her daughter had called.
To say it was done.
The lawyers looked at the seal.
At the photograph.
At the inscription.
At each other.
“This is highly irregular,” the lead lawyer said.
“Most things worth doing are,” the mother said.
The lawyers conferred quietly.
For twenty minutes.
Then the lead lawyer looked up.
“We will need DNA verification,” he said.
“Of course,” the mother said.
“The results could take—”
“I have them already,” the mother said.
She placed a folder on the table.
The lead lawyer opened it.
Read.
“These are certified?” he said.
“By three independent laboratories,” the mother said.
“My father was very thorough.”
William looked at her.
“Your father,” he said.
“Arranged all of this?”
“Before he died,” she said.
“He knew the family would challenge it.”
“He wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.”
“He spent the last two years of his life.”
“Making sure.”
She looked around the table.
At the faces of the half-siblings she had never met.
The nieces and nephews.
The cousins of cousins.
“I am not here for the money,” she said.
“I want to be clear about that.”
