It was thought that in her still-delicate condition since the rescue, that it would be inadvisable for Dorothy Vaughn to leave her home any more than absolutely necessary. Consequently, the reading of Jack Vaughn’s will was held in an office at St. James Cathedral, combining that occasion with the planned memorial service. John Isaacs, the longtime family lawyer, was of course the first to arrive in the office, and he shuffled his papers abstractedly while he waited for the family to arrive.
First through the door was the Vaughn’s daughter Muriel. Wickedly intelligent in a society that valued looks more that brains in a woman… Stanley thought that if she’d been born a man, she’d have been a formidable personage indeed. Instead, she was limited to shrewdly managing her own investments, backing a number of social reform issues, and looking down her nose at whatever male fortune hunters were desperate enough to seek her favor.
A few minutes later, the widow Vaughn entered, being pushed in a wheelchair by her oldest son Jack Junior. Jack, known around Chicago by his nickname of “Duke” was a splendid specimen; six feet two inches tall, ruddy of complexion; a veteran of the Spanish-American War where, it was rumored, even Teddy Roosevelt himself had spoken admiringly of him. If ever a man was cued up for success, it was Duke.
Last to arrive was the younger son, Ernest. Smaller than his brother, myopic, and burdened since birth by a club foot, Ernest always had the sense that he was viewed as a bit of a disappointment by the rest of the family. Having little interest in the business world, he was often viewed as somewhat simple by his siblings, who failed to see the intelligence that nestled in him.
When all parties were settled, lawyer Isaacs cleared his throat and began. “To my beloved wife Dorothy, I leave our house in suburban Chicago, as well as a fund my attorneys will create to enable you to live out the rest of your years in comfort.
“To my eldest son Jack Junior I leave shares in he Midwest National Bank sufficient for him to succeed me as chairman of the board of that institution. I also leave to him the Wisconsin farm. I expect Jack to continue and enhance the preeminence of the Vaughn family name in the Chicago area.
“To my daughter Muriel, I leave the apartment in downtown Chicago, along with a significant investment portfolio. I have no doubt that she will manage it in ways that will show the world the value of a young woman such as herself.
“And to my younger son Ernest I leave the ownership of the Chicago Doves baseball team, along with a small stipend to keep the team functioning while he finds his footing. I hope this position will help Ernest blossom into his full potential.”
The lawyer continued for some time, but all Ernest could think of was Oh my God… I own the Chicago Doves!
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Two hours later, the memorial service had ended, and the family stood at the head of the group of mourners on the front steps of the cathedral as representatives of the Doves team, in uniform with the new black mourning stripe added, released a flight of white doves into the sky as a final tribute. As he looked up, Ernest felt the heavy hand of his brother Duke on his shoulder. “Don’t worry little brother… I’ll have plenty of time to run the Doves for you… You can just sit back in some cushy office at the ballpark and watch the money I’m going to make for you pour in.”
Sister Muriel joined the conversation. “Well, then Jack, I suppose it’s you I need to talk to. It’s a disgrace that beer and wine is served at the park, and starting immediately I simply won’t have it any more. And we’re going to have to revisit the idea of playing games on the Sabbath as well.”
Ernest just stared at the doves flying free overhead, heading for who knows where. That’s what I want to do, he thought, Be free… But if I’m ever going to do it, I need to get away from these people. I need to get out of Chicago…and take the Doves with me!