“Collin left them all but the five percent of his share of the business, and it’s substantial. None of them, or their attorneys, have questioned the terms of the will. Owen—I know him very well, as he and Trey are friends—runs the business here. The hands-on business, you’d say. Believe me, I’d know if he had any issues. His cousin—and yours—handles the PR, and another the business of the business, another the design, and yet another lives in London and handles that end.
“Your share in Poole Shipbuilding is minimal, Sonya, and changes nothing for any of them.”
“All right. I don’t want any resentments. I think I should know more about the history—the family history.”
“I can certainly help with that. I made Collin a book—that’s in his office. And there should be a digital copy of the family tree on his computer. Also a family Bible, in the library, but it’s not completely accurate.” He gestured toward her. “As you prove by being here.”
“Why would they have done it? Separated the brothers?”
“Patricia Youngsboro married Michael Poole, and like some converts became a fanatic regarding the Poole name. Though she refused to live in the manor.”
“Really?”
“To my knowledge, she never stepped foot in it. She was a hard woman, Sonya. I expect she took Collin, placed him with her daughter simply to keep the line intact. She had no reason to keep both children, not in her mind.”
“But there had to be people who knew.”
“Money can obfuscate very well. The story put out, and one Collin spent the first decades of his life believing, was he was born out of wedlock, and his father died in Vietnam before he and his mother could marry. Gretta was a dutiful mother.”
“Dutiful.”
“Cowed by an overbearing mother. She never married. Collin was raised in his grandmother’s house, where he and his mother lived. His grandfather had little interest in the business, but Patricia more than made up for that. Michael spent his time traveling, indulging in what did interest him. Women, drink, adventure. He flew planes—and jumped out of them—raced boats, scuba dived, climbed mountains. He died at fifty-eight, in a climb of Denali in Alaska.”
“Mr. Doyle—”
“Call me Deuce. Mr. Doyle or Oliver can get confusing around here.”
“Deuce. You said before she—Patricia—refused to live in the manor, closed it up for years. Why didn’t she just sell it?”
“For the simple reason it wasn’t hers to sell. Michael left it to his son Charles, and he, in turn, to his brother, Lawrence.”
“All right. I’m going to take a good look at that book, and the family tree. Is the daughter—the woman who raised Collin—still alive?”
“She is, but she’s not well. Alzheimer’s, which spawned dementia. She’s in a memory care facility in Ogunquit. Though she no longer knew him, Collin visited her twice a month. She was a dutiful mother,” Deuce said again, “and an unhappy woman, one who suffered from depression, migraines, and as she grew older, extreme social anxiety.
“Patricia Poole cast a long shadow.”
“I can see that.”
Just as she began to see a troubled, tangled family dynamic.
“I’m grateful for all you’re doing, and for trying to help me understand what’s obviously a complicated family history.”
“You’re my closest friend’s niece. I’m more than willing to answer any questions I can. As I did with your grandfather.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your father’s father contacted me. He and your grandmother are understandably upset to learn their son had a brother, that they weren’t informed at the time of the adoption.”
“Angry, too. I know.”
“Also understandable. But more, at this point, my sense is their concern’s for you. That you’re safe here, and looked after.”
“Oh, well—”
“I’m going to have my first grandchild.” He beamed when he said it. “So I have a glimmer of that concern. We had a productive conversation. All in all, Sonya, I think your father was the more fortunate brother. I don’t think you’d describe your grandmother as a dutiful mother to her son.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Loving and supportive, of him, of my mom, of me. I’ll call my grandparents when I get back to the manor.” She got to her feet. “I need a little more time to find my bearings, but I’d like to have you—your family—come to dinner one night.”