The Big Swerve

The Big Swerve

By Megan Shay

Henry James Neilson IV, who did not think of himself as such except when he encountered major life events like his recent graduation from Yale, pulled a legal pad from his new desk in his new office and contemplated what he might do with it until 11:50am when the Senior Partners were taking him to Oakley Country Club for his welcome lunch. He was tapping his monogrammed Mont Blanc on the pad when the telephone rang. It was Sylvia, his father’s secretary for the last twenty-five years, now his. AJ, as Henry thought of himself, found having a secretary to be baffling since anything his father said she would do for him was something he could easily do himself. He also found himself pondering Sylvia’s move to his corner of the top floor and the slick, svelte thirty-something “assistant” who now resided outside his father’s door.

“Mr. Neilson, Mr. Neilson would like to see you.” she said tightly.

“My father?” AJ asked.

“Your grandfather,” she clarified.

“Of course, I’m on my way.” Pleased with how calmly he was thinking, he gathered his legal pad and his pen and proceeded to the far corner of the floor.

Henry James Neilson II looked out from a bushy overhang of eyebrows and twitched his hand towards a chair across from him. AJ sat. His grandfather eyed him beadily and harrumphed. Then he cleared his throat ominously. “Great Aunt Henrietta Neilson has left you her money and I want to know why.”

“Excuse me?” AJ spluttered.

Henry James Neilson II handed him a thin, small, black book sealed with a large, red sticker. “Her lawyers - SHE USED MILLER HOLMES CHISHOLM - CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??? And I WANT TO KNOW what YOU know about it.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have anything to tell you. I’m not even sure I remember her. I think our last interaction was ten years ago when she sent a turtleneck three sizes too small on my twelfth birthday.”

“Well, you better figure it out before the family decides to sue you for their shares. I cancelled lunch. No one could swallow a thing.”

On his way back across the top floor, he thought of something Sylvia could do. “Could I ask you to call ahead to Miller Holmes Chisholm and let them know I am on my way over? Then could you text me the name of the person I will be meeting with?”

“Yes, Mr. Neilson,” she deprecated.

“Sylvia?”

“Yes, Mr. Neilson?”

“Do you think you could call me AJ?” he asked.

“Of course, Mr. Neilson.”

“Thank you.”

AJ’s text pinged.

Terry Argenta

He walked into a law firm three doors down from Neilson. “I am AJ Neilson,” he said to the young, male receptionist. “I am here to see Mr. Argenta.” The receptionist shooed him to a waiting area near a set of frosted glass doors and picked up the phone. Moments later a beautiful, tall, slim, cinnamon-colored woman with a long thin scar across her neck stepped in front of him and greeted him formally.

“Henry?”

“AJ, please. Is Mr. Argenta ready for me?”

“This way.” AJ thought she grimaced.

They sat across a long board table from one another. She slid a card across to him. “I am Terry Argenta,” she said firmly. AJ felt himself go hot and red.

I am SO sorry,” he apologized. “My secretary didn’t specify a gender.”

“Never a safe thing to do,” she noted.

“Um, look, this has sort of taken me by surprise. Could you please tell me what you know about it?”

Ms. Argenta gave him an assessing look for a moment. “Your great-great aunt has left you a conditional bequest. She has designated thirteen million in a trust fund of which I am the trustee. You have 48 hours to put together a plan based on her wishes, which we will then review. If we concur that the plan meets her goals, we will distribute the funds according to your suggestion and issue you a check for 4.95 Million. If we feel the plan does not adequately address Lucia’s directives, you will receive nothing and we will continue as executors, which will not concern you.”

“How do I know what her wishes are?” AJ asked, feeling both foolish and clueless.

Ms. Argenta pointed to the small Moleskin book in his hand. “It’s all there. Shall we agree to meet in two days time? My partners will be present.”

In his car, AJ texted Sylvia that he wouldn’t return today and pressed his speed dial for Araminta Sebring, his best friend since second grade.

“Aaaay-Jaaaay!” she hollered.

“Hey, Minty. Can you meet me?”

“Now? No! Some of us have real jobs. I can meet you at six-thirty at the pub.”

“I think that will waste too much time.”

“What’s wrong with you. Suddenly can’t live without me?” Minty jibed.

“I - God, this is messed up. I have to figure out how to give away eight million in less than two days and if I don’t guess right, then I don’t get any myself.”

“Oh, just what you need. More money.”

“No, Minty - you don’t get it. This would be MY money. No strings, no line of Henry James Neilsons to wait in....” his voice tailed off thinly.

“I get it,” Minty said in a business-like tone. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I will bring my gang and we will meet you at the pub at 6:30 to sort it out - more brain power, less time needed.”

For what might have been the first time in his life, AJ was early and prepared. He commandeered a table for eight people and set out copies of the Moleskin contents. These were a curious set of eight lists (artist names, fictional works with female heroines, a list of facts, a list of recent inventions, quotes about childhood, poverty statistics, songwriters - seemingly arbitrary) and one set of equations:

$<$2M

Impact>$

The sum of any two even integers X and Y is even.

X-Y=NOW

UCDelta

AJ looked up to see Minty coming through the door followed by her “gang”. They stood out from their surroundings, a rainbow of color in a melay of styles and accoutrements that seemed like a handful of confetti flung among the business suits and white faces of the usual patrons. Minty made brief introductions.

“AJ - Amanda.”

Amanda held out her hand like a princess and smiled beguilingly at him. “Lesbian.” she said.

“Turk.”

A medium-tall Asian man nodded. “Gay.”

“Samantha.”

A plump, sweet woman with a colorful khimar over her dark hair smiled broadly. “Hi-ya. Bi.”

“Vihaan.”

A wraith-like Indian boy winked slyly. “Trans.”

“Bruce.”

A beefy body-builder type held out his hand for a crushing handshake. “Questioning.”

AJ met his eyes with a confused look. Minty deemed there wasn’t time to go into it and finished with “Nadine.”

She also nodded to him and said “I’m nothing special.”

Minty gave AJ a wry look. “Prepared, I see. Okay, everyone. No time to waste. Find the philanthropy issue behind each list.”

They all pulled their notebooks from their bags and burrowed into their screens. AJ pondered his for 30 seconds before Bruce shouted out “World Poverty!” and bent his head close to Samantha’s. Amanda said, “Climate Change.”

Nadine shouted, “Empowering Women,” and turned to help Turk.

“I think I got it. These are all facts. Must be pursuit of truth in reporting.” Turk growled.

Minty was a blizzard of fingers on her keyboard. “These are all singers who sang about war -- the issue is Peace.”

Samantha announced hers was Children Outdoors.

“I got that these are all reporters,” Vihaan said. “Wait a minute. All of them wrote about human trafficking.

AJ stared at his list, now on the table so Nadine, Minty and Bruce could see it. “I get that they are all artists,” he said. “But I don’t see what connects them.” Three screens with a slew of pictures were put on the table. Bruce said, “I see it. Each of these artists painted a black person. Black Artists? Black representation?”

“That’s it - Black Lives Matter,” said Minty. “Great! Let’s look at this last thing. Seems like a rule set?”

“Yeah,” Nadine. “Donations need to be less than $2 million, the impact has to be greater than the money donated. What’s the next one?”

“It’s a mathematical proof. Might be that you need proof of the organization’s effectiveness?”

AJ said, “Sounds reasonable. What does “x-y=now” mean?”

“I got it!” Amanda said. “Subtraction is Difference. It has to make a difference now, not just in the future.”

“Brilliant,” murmured AJ. “You see triangles? Does that mean different sides?”

“It could,” said Minty. “But I lean toward delta, the symbol for change. You have to be able to see the change. Probably you, personally, AJ.”

AJ left the restaurant feeling stunned and overwhelmed. He had eight areas of charitable giving to research, selecting a minimum of four for his plan. He dialed Sylvia’s answering machine and left a message saying he wouldn’t be in tomorrow or the next day. He left the same on his grandfather’s phone but that didn’t work so well. His phone rang as he walked into his loft.

It was his grandfather so he didn’t answer it. Instead he texted:

I am handling it.

His grandfather texted back:

You know damn well I can’t text. Answer your fucking phone.

Well, thought AJ, he’s in a pleasant mood.

He spent the night researching organizations and establishing their legitimacy. Before he slept briefly, he sent urgent emails to the directors of each entity, requesting a phone call. By the second evening, he had his first pass at a plan and a new lens through which he saw the world.

At the 48 hour deadline, he was ushered into the same conference room where he now faced three people including Ms. Argenta.

Mr. Neilson?” Ms Argenta asked as she finished reading his plan. “Could we have a few moments of privacy?”

“Certainly,” A red-faced AJ tumbled into the hall. He knew he had worked fast but he didn’t think the plan was rubbish.

“Mr. Neilson?” AJ followed Ms. Argenta back into the office where the lawyers rose to greet him. “We want you to know that we are very pleased and impressed with the work you have presented this morning.” she said. “We are in complete accord that your great-great aunt would be, as well.”

AJ’s grandfather was still red and seething when his secretary ushered AJ through the door. “How dare you not answer my calls! Don’t you know I am the only thing that stands between you and being sued by your relatives?”

“Actually, Grandfather, I am just hear to give you this.” He handed over a white envelope and left the office without waiting to see if his grandfather opened it.

He swept a box and his briefcase off his desk and stopped at Sylvia’s desk to look at her over the bouquet of lilies that had been delivered.

“You didn’t have to do that Mr. Neilson….AJ” she said, pointing to the flowers.

“I meant what I said. I hope you will consider it.” he responded. She nodded and gave him a radiant smile. And with that he walked out the door, down the street.

Good morning, AJ,” called the receptionist.

“Good morning, Ivan. Is Terry around?”

“No, sorry. She left about half an hour ago. There’s an envelop for you on your desk, though.”

In his office, AJ slit the seal. “Dear AJ,” he read. “It takes courage to face the world as it is in its entirety. I am proud that you have begun to connect your good fortune to the misfortune of others and to do something about it. It is an important effort, the urgency of which cannot be overstated. There are others in this fight with you. Seek them out. Your great-great-Aunt Henry.