Excerpt of Miss Foster's Folly by Alice Gaines

Manhattan Island, New York, 1886

The day Juliet Foster became insanely wealthy broke bright
and clear. Juliet stared with longing out the window at the
sunlight bringing the first warmth of spring to Central
Park. The Almighty might have planned the weather to honor
her dear, departed father. More likely, God didn't think
about Gerard Foster one way or the other. No matter.
Juliet's father had never paid much attention to God, either.

Gerard's children had assembled in the lavishly appointed
office of his lawyer. Juliet's brother and sister and their
spouses perched on their chairs, seeming to hover over Mr.
Simms as he put on his reading glasses and opened the will.
Juliet braced herself; unlike the others, she knew what was
coming.

Mr. Simms cleared his throat. "I hope I've expressed my deep
condolences at the loss of your father."

"Thank you." Her sister, Ophelia lifted her handkerchief to
her mouth and managed a discreet sob into the linen. Very
convincing unless you'd witnessed her make the exact same
noise dozens over times of the years.

"He was a very great man, my dear," Mr. Simms said. "All of
Manhattan admired him."

Indeed. They'd all discover how much that very night at the
party Gerard's partners had planned in his honor. Society
might think a celebration so soon after the man's death in
poor taste, but Papa had no doubt ordered the thing to
demonstrate that even in death, he was still in charge.

"Not only a titan of industry, but a great philanthropist,"
Mr. Simms went on. "The Foster Museum, the Foster
Conservatory. The Foster Sanitarium...he even cared for the
poor and infirm."

As long as he didn't have to actually meet any of the poor
and infirm. Papa had left monuments to his name all over the
city the way his prize bulldogs left surprises on the
sidewalk outside of their mansion on the park.

"But I don't have to sing his praises to you kind people,"
Mr. Simms said. "We shall not see his like again for a very
long time, if ever."

"Mr. Simms," her brother Richard said. "I hate to seem..."

The lawyer wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"We have preparations," Richard went on. "If you don't
mind...the will?"

Mr. Simms' expression cleared. "Ah, yes."

The man shuffled the papers for a moment and then began to
read. "'I, Gerard Howard Foster, being of sound mind do here
on this twenty-fifth of November, 1885 declare this to be my
last will and testament for all matters—'"

"Yes, of course," Ophelia said. "I don't think we need that
part."

Mr. Simms glanced at Richard. "Should I skip it?"

"If you don't mind," Richard answered.

The lawyer looked to Juliet.

"Whatever my brother and sister want," she said. Nothing
either of them could say or do would change the important
contents of the will.