tell you one thing with absolute certainty. He was impressed that you never asked where he was getting his crazy ideas and never considered him mad for being serious about them.”
Cyrus had to laugh. Ok, he was buying it. Underwood had him convinced, he surely must be a close friend to Meade if he knew about those conversations. His description was right on the money. It wasn’t uncommon for Meade to show up unannounced. And they would have lengthy discussions about the strangest subjects. But each and every talk seemed of vital importance to the old man so Cyrus dug into the meat of each matter and they would kick the issue of the day around. More often than not, when all was said and done, the old man left with that excited glint in his eye. That urgent and anxious look, like a kid who just woke up on Christmas morning. A kid who couldn’t wait to get downstairs and play with his new toys. Cyrus never really understood what it was all about, but the conversations were never dull and always proved to be an intellectual challenge.
“He was just a crazy old man who had a very active imagination,” Cyrus concluded. He always suspected there was more to it, ever since the day they first met in Washington. Still, he had never broached the subject. He smiled thinking about DC. Had they really met that day? He was certain that Meade didn’t remember ever seeing him in the coffee shop. But after all that had happened, it had been the events of that afternoon that brought Walter Meade to Cyrus’s door. Fate was funny that way.
“Yes,” the older man said. He rubbed his chin with a distracted, faraway look in his eyes. “He always suspected you might feel that way.” His eyes snapped back to the moment and he smiled at Cyrus. “Anyway, to the business at hand!
“I’m seeing to Walter’s last will and testament. He has left you his modest estate in the mountains of Colorado.”
Cyrus was taken aback. He leaned on the arm of his chair and considered Underwood’s statement. “That must be a mistake. Surely he had family or friends who—” He didn’t know how to continue. “He once mentioned a vacation property he had out in Colorado. He said it was his sanctuary. I got the impressing he really loved it there.”
“That he did, my boy! He always said that he did his best thinking out there. But it wasn’t a vacation retreat. He lived there. It was his home. And certainly he had friends, but no surviving family. And he was very precise. He wanted you to have the property.”
“His home? He lived there? The way he would pop up now and again, I assumed he lived here in the city. Colorado is quite a trek…and he wasn’t a young man…” Cyrus’s mind spun with the contradiction. Meade had a tendency to show up at his door randomly and unannounced. Cyrus could just as easily have been home as not. Would the man have traveled all the way from Colorado to make unannounced visits? Maybe he’d simply been in town on other business. But that often? And traveling so frequently at his advanced age? In truth, they had met more often than Cyrus has admitted to Underwood.
Underwood watched Cyrus carefully. He could see the wheels moving as he considered the dichotomy of the scenario. “Yes,” he said simply, “Walter did love to travel.
“In any case, Walter has left you the property in Colorado as well as a trust that will see to the payment of the taxes, insurance, and utilities for the next 100 years.”
“Wait—Excuse me?”
“Yes, Walter believed that his inheritance should not be a burden on those who accepted it. So, in your case he ensured that taking possession of the estate would place no financial burden upon you.”
Wow … That did sound like the Walter Meade that Cyrus knew. Always thinking half a dozen steps ahead. Apparently, even in death.
Cyrus could find no reason to refuse the property. As much as accepting this gift troubled him, it seemed that Meade had gone to great lengths to make
Cyrus had to laugh. Ok, he was buying it. Underwood had him convinced, he surely must be a close friend to Meade if he knew about those conversations. His description was right on the money. It wasn’t uncommon for Meade to show up unannounced. And they would have lengthy discussions about the strangest subjects. But each and every talk seemed of vital importance to the old man so Cyrus dug into the meat of each matter and they would kick the issue of the day around. More often than not, when all was said and done, the old man left with that excited glint in his eye. That urgent and anxious look, like a kid who just woke up on Christmas morning. A kid who couldn’t wait to get downstairs and play with his new toys. Cyrus never really understood what it was all about, but the conversations were never dull and always proved to be an intellectual challenge.
“He was just a crazy old man who had a very active imagination,” Cyrus concluded. He always suspected there was more to it, ever since the day they first met in Washington. Still, he had never broached the subject. He smiled thinking about DC. Had they really met that day? He was certain that Meade didn’t remember ever seeing him in the coffee shop. But after all that had happened, it had been the events of that afternoon that brought Walter Meade to Cyrus’s door. Fate was funny that way.
“Yes,” the older man said. He rubbed his chin with a distracted, faraway look in his eyes. “He always suspected you might feel that way.” His eyes snapped back to the moment and he smiled at Cyrus. “Anyway, to the business at hand!
“I’m seeing to Walter’s last will and testament. He has left you his modest estate in the mountains of Colorado.”
Cyrus was taken aback. He leaned on the arm of his chair and considered Underwood’s statement. “That must be a mistake. Surely he had family or friends who—” He didn’t know how to continue. “He once mentioned a vacation property he had out in Colorado. He said it was his sanctuary. I got the impressing he really loved it there.”
“That he did, my boy! He always said that he did his best thinking out there. But it wasn’t a vacation retreat. He lived there. It was his home. And certainly he had friends, but no surviving family. And he was very precise. He wanted you to have the property.”
“His home? He lived there? The way he would pop up now and again, I assumed he lived here in the city. Colorado is quite a trek…and he wasn’t a young man…” Cyrus’s mind spun with the contradiction. Meade had a tendency to show up at his door randomly and unannounced. Cyrus could just as easily have been home as not. Would the man have traveled all the way from Colorado to make unannounced visits? Maybe he’d simply been in town on other business. But that often? And traveling so frequently at his advanced age? In truth, they had met more often than Cyrus has admitted to Underwood.
Underwood watched Cyrus carefully. He could see the wheels moving as he considered the dichotomy of the scenario. “Yes,” he said simply, “Walter did love to travel.
“In any case, Walter has left you the property in Colorado as well as a trust that will see to the payment of the taxes, insurance, and utilities for the next 100 years.”
“Wait—Excuse me?”
“Yes, Walter believed that his inheritance should not be a burden on those who accepted it. So, in your case he ensured that taking possession of the estate would place no financial burden upon you.”
Wow … That did sound like the Walter Meade that Cyrus knew. Always thinking half a dozen steps ahead. Apparently, even in death.
Cyrus could find no reason to refuse the property. As much as accepting this gift troubled him, it seemed that Meade had gone to great lengths to make
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