The Trust Ch. 01

"You need to get going Mase." She told him, "You have that meeting with Allan and we both have a thousand other things to do today." then she was gone again.

The closer he got to Charleston, the more his focus turned to the meeting. In a way it would be the closing of a very sad chapter in his life. Allan had ended up playing a far bigger role in Mason's life than anyone had expected. Two years after the explosions took his parents, Allan stumbled upon evidence in some financial documents he was archiving that implicated the partners of his firm. And working with a friend from his Harvard Law class who was with the FBI, had broken the story open.

It started with a codicil to the will that named Jason Sloan, the senior partner at Sloan & Carter as trustee to the Cabot estate if anything were to happen to his father. Further stipulating that Mason couldn't assume control of the trust until his eighteenth birthday. What Mason's father hadn't realized when he had the new provision added to the will, was that the firm had just suffered a falling out with their creditors, who were calling in all debts. As fate would have it, the codicil and the crippling financial news crossed Sloan's desk on the same day. And two weeks later Mason was an orphan.

When the dust had settled, Sloan had blown his brains out moments ahead of the FBI taking him into custody. Carter took his chances, laying it all at his dead partner's feet and was serving life. Nobody was ever identified as the bomber, because that had been Sloan's contact. And Allan had been appointed by the court to continue as his guardian and trustee, with bi-annual audits and spending limitations set by the court.

Allan was someone Mason had come to trust in the intervening years, but he wasn't a very easy person to become close to. His demeanor was as stiff as his integrity, and he seemed to have only slightly warmed towards Mason. He had done his job though, finding Mason the very best teachers and monitoring his progress with them very closely. For a time Mason had actually hated him. Feeling that his insistence on advanced studies was unfair and punitive. But he eventually began to understand that Allan was just doing what he thought was necessary if Mason ever wanted to manage his own affairs. Well maybe a lot of the credit for that realization should go to Brigid, but he liked to believe he would have eventually gotten there on his own.

That brought him back around to how he had felt that morning. He didn't know if he wanted anything to do with his father's legacy. And he was afraid that if he took control of his trust, it would in turn take control of him. Then there was the matter of security. A great deal of effort had been made over his lifetime to keep him anonymous, to isolate him from the wealth that had caused his parents deaths. Things that included living a very isolated life in rural West Virginia, where any security force would only have stood out like a sore thumb. But he was half afraid that he would be leaving the meeting with a bodyguard of some kind.

***

Mason would swear Allan was wearing the same suit as the last two times he had been in his office. Maybe he just had a closet full of grey sear suckers. The other two people in the office were unknown to him. A fat balding guy that didn't bother to climb to his feet as Mason entered like Allan did. And a very prim looking woman with grey hair standing off to the side.

"Mason," Allan greeted him with a slight nod of his head, "let me introduce you to Floyd Simpson from BNY Mellon, they are your bank. And Mrs. Millicent Tanner from the court. They are here to facilitate our meeting and sever the ties we are under with the court.."

Mason shook hands with both, then nervously took a seat. He hadn't figured on there being others here today.

"In an effort to not take up too much of these busy people's time, I've taken the liberty of laying out the papers you will need to sign, then Mr. Simpson has some stuff for you. Mrs. Tanner simply needs to bear witness and sign as such for the court." Allan went on, picking up the first of several documents fanned out before him on his desk. "This first document is simply to attest that Mason has reach the age of his majority. You will all please read and sign it, there is a copy of his birth certificate attached. I have already signed it." And he handed it to the banker. There followed several documents releasing his trust to him, documents terminating the courts bi-annual audits. and of all things a final billing for the same. After all the signatures had been affixed, Mrs. Tanner took her leave and the focus of the meeting turned to Floyd Simpson and Mason's future relationship with BNY Mellon.

For the second time that day Mason couldn't believe what was happening. He'd known that his father's assets were large. But the sheer size of his trust staggered his mind. It turned out that he was one of the largest depositors in the fourth largest bank in the US. With just over one point three billion in liquid assets spread across a dozen accounts. Mason really didn't hear a thing Simpson said for a time after that, he simply signed where Allan showed him. And after Mr. Simpson left, Mason sat staring at the unlimited visa card he had been issued.

"I'm afraid we have a lot more to cover here today Mason, but I think the first order of business at this point would be my continued employment." And Allan actually almost smiled, Mason was sure of it. "This is a new contract I've drawn up for my continued management of your business assets while you finish school. It is for a six-year duration and I've taken the liberty of giving myself a twenty-five percent raise over what the court has allowed me to receive with an annual increase of five percent. It gives me access to those accounts with revenue set aside for business expenses and has provisions for you to bring in an independent auditing company at any time you see fit."

Mason looked the document over quickly, finally appreciating the courses this man had forced him to take. Then looked at Allan. "I came in here today ready to have you liquidate all of my father's assets, so I could finally put him behind me. The last thing I ever want to be is anything like him." Mason began, then fell silent as Allan rose and crossed to a file cabinet. Pulled the top drawer open and started laying a stack of folders on the desk in front of Mason.

"I'm afraid the idea of dumping these companies would have fallen right into your father's wheelhouse." He said, the pile quickly growing. "He was a harsh man, though I dare say you know that, ruthless in business. The term corporate raider could have been coined after him. He leveraged his way into public companies that didn't have the financial ability to defend themselves and took most of them apart, selling them or their assets in whatever way brought him the biggest profit. Regardless of what that did to the local economy or the employees and families dependent on those jobs. That's why your trust has an unusually high amount of liquid assets to draw upon. His mind-set never seemed to be on investing, he was like a shark feeding on the lifeblood of others. You couldn't do anything that would mark you as his son faster than to start liquidating your real and soft assets now."

Mason winced as Allan slapped a last folder on the top of the pile, sickened by the damage his father must have wreaked. "What are these?" he asked quietly.

"These," Allan told him, laying his hand on the pile. "Are your father's crumbs. Or at least that's how he referred to them. They make up the rest of your trust, minus the house and property you live in. Seventy three companies and over eighty million in unsold real estate."

Taking his seat again, Allan began explaining. "Your father liked to target growing companies. Usually targeting them when they tried some form of expansion, whether it was going public or stretching themselves thin financially to reach for a new market or contract. Vulnerable times if things didn't go just right, and he was always ready to capitalize on any mistakes. Once he positioned himself with a controlling interest, he would start selling things off." Here he paused, wiping at his lips like he had a bad taste in his mouth, before pointing at the stack. "Quite often however, there were peripheral plants or factories that were part of these companies, yet too remote to sell at a profit with the rest. If they were capable of showing a steady profit, he kept them, if he found them to be a liability, he would close them down and write them off as losses. Much of the eighty million in real estate in your trust, comes from scrapped factories and office buildings."

"I had no idea," Mason muttered, still holding the contract Allan had originally handed him. Staring at the stack of folders. "He was more of a monster than I thought."

Allan let him stew for a moment, then leaned across the desk and offered him a pen. "How about signing that, and we can get on with things?" he suggested, and Mason did, handing it over.

Allan placed the contract neatly on top the stack of forms Mason had already signed that day and turned back to him. "You had the right idea in regards to part of your trust." He began. "We need to start dealing with the excess or 'dead' real estate. Over the last eight years, while the court tied my hands, the taxes and maintenance of them has drained about half of the profits generated by the active properties. Keeping in mind, that those same active properties have suffered declines in revenue as they aged."

"I would imagine a lot of that real estate is located in places where it would be hard to sell?" Mason asked, and Allan nodded after a long moment, surprised.

"Unfortunately," he agreed, "about half could be dealt with fairly easily, the properties in larger communities. But much of it will take some planing. In some cases, the best solution might be to retool or reopen the original facility."

Mason visibly perked up at that suggestion. "We could start to undo some of the damage he did." Mason told him, then frowned when Allan shook his head.

"There's no way to undo most of that at this point." Allan told him. "The best thing you can do is learn to manage what is left. The people who live their lives around those crumbs," and he pointed to the stack of folders. "Need the jobs, and the security that they supply."

Mason leaned back in his chair contemplating that, and Allan studied him. He was fonder of Mason than the boy knew, never having gotten around to having a wife, let alone children of his own. Mason had filled that need for him. Allan wasn't what one would consider openly affectionate, so he'd been more than happy to let the nanny Brigid handle that stuff. That didn't mean he was immune to the years of seeing to his other needs.

"That brings us back to the subject I had planned on discussing with you." Allan began again. "The majority of these crumbs are having aging problems. Most need updated machinery and or shipping options. Some simply need to be retooled and begin producing a whole new product. I've got a long list of things that need to be addressed sooner than later, not just to add profits to your accounts, but to offer better working conditions to the employees. The courts were loath to approve it, because it won't be cheap, and there's no guarantee that you would recoup those expenses in every case." Allan had wondered how this would go over with Mason, but relaxed as he saw the boy nodding.

"Go ahead and do whatever it takes." Mason told him. "If you need my signature just let me know."

Allan sighed and nodded. "It'll be a long process, and it will cost. But I'll put together what needs to be done for the most urgent cases. The ones no longer making it, and we can start there. I'm also going to shop around for a consolidated insurance plan. I'm sure we can offer a better, more cost-effective plan if we included all of these businesses in one group, rather than stick to the peace meal approach we now have."

"That seems like a good idea to me." Mason agreed, starting to feel a little dazed by it all. Something Allan noticed, so he moved on to the last two subjects that needed to be covered.

"There's more we need to go over Mason," Allan began." I know that legally I'm no longer your guardian, but pursuant to our discussion of last year when you tested out of high school, your year to take a break is coming to an end. And I've taken the liberty of securing you a place at MIT for your Bachelor and MBA studies." Mason nodded and Allan relaxed, relieved that he wouldn't have to fight with him on at least one of the points. Mason's future security needs made for a lot less satisfying discussion though, which he finally agreed to return to after Mason got settled in at college in Massachusetts.

***

Mason was enjoying a root beer shake at Fran's Homemade Ice Cream, trying to digest all that had happened so far that day. He was sure of only three things, he really hoped to have more sex with Brigid, he was very grateful that Allan was still managing his business assets, he wasn't sure if he ever wanted that job, and he was so rich it was ridiculous. He had always had anything he needed and most things he wanted, but the ideas that started popping into his head right then were exhilarating. He just had to go shopping and buy some stuff, it was his birthday after all.

The thrill of it all kind of died by the third store he was in and he still hadn't found a single thing he really wanted. It just wasn't that much fun shopping by himself, for himself. He was almost ready to throw in the towel and head home when he saw something that inspired him. Thirty five hundred for a seventy Inch 4K Ultra HD 3D Smart LED TV, Mason couldn't imagine paying that for himself, but this was for Marcus. Another grand for the latest surround sound home theater setup and professional installation. And to round it off, a heated massage recliner. Mason was pretty sure the saleslady had a small orgasm when she rang it up. Expedited delivery was another hundred, but it would be there and set up sometime that afternoon. Mason grinned as he imagined Marcus' reaction. Now this was going to be fun.

Marcus had moved into the carriage house after his wife of thirty-two years had passed from breast cancer. It was just him and Brigid left and there wasn't anything keeping him in Idaho any longer. Marcus filled a hole Mason hadn't even realized he had, and Mason was quickly a willing accomplice in a hundred different schemes. The best of which was his car. Mason didn't know it, but Brigid had talked her father into staying with them after her mom died mostly so Mason would have a strong male role model. They'd hit it off right from the first day, when Marcus promised to teach Mason how to box. Little did Mason realize how many bruises and bloody noses that promise was going to cost him.

Feeling good about his birthday present to his friend, Mason strolled through the mall looking for something to get Brigid.

***

Mason was about half way home when he caught up to the delivery van and happily went around them, stepping on it so he could be there to watch Marcus' reaction. Leaving the gate open a short time later, he parked and ran over to the carriage house. Marcus was prepping his barbecue pit, the oak firewood just reaching the ash state and Mason knew there would be something wonderful for dinner that evening. In fact, from the size and shape of a lump under a kitchen towel on the picnic table that Danny was guarding, he'd bet it was a leg of lamb. Something Marcus always did to perfection. They ate a lot of lamb around there, since Marcus and Danny ran a small flock of sheep on the forty acres. Something he insisted was part of his heritage. Mason thought he just liked them.

Marcus greeted him with a nod and a grunted happy birthday, preoccupied with getting his bed of coals just right. So he didn't see the van coming up the drive when Mason waved it over.

"I wonder what they want?" Mason said, trying hard to keep a straight face as Marcus turned with a frown, gesturing for Danny to stay.

"Can I help you?" Marcus asked the first guy that got out of the van, looking just a tad put upon at having his task interrupted. Marcus was slightly irascible even on his best days, a holdover from his youth as a pub fighter. That was what he called any Irishman who liked to get fairly drunk, and have a good-natured shouting match with any other fairly drunk Irishman in the pub. Usually resulting in singing but occasionally in broken noses, as Marcus' own nose attested to.

"Are you Marcus Kelly?" The tall kid asked, consulting his clip board as a shorter older guy got out of the far side of the van, staring at Danny nervously.

"That would be me." Marcus admitted, looking curious now. "How can I help you? Any deliveries should probably go over to the main house."

"No, it says here the smaller structure up front, I have a delivery and installation for Marcus Kelly." The kid assured him, reading the instructions on his slip. By then, Marcus was eyeing Mason, who wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his amusement. "One seventy inch HD TV, a home theater surround system with installation. And a Human Touch ZeroG heated massage chair." He went on flipping through a few pages on his clip board.

"Mason?" Marcus accused, sure now that it was his doing. And Mason's grin finally escaped his control, spreading from ear to ear. Marcus stepped to him and wrapped him in a bear hug, trapping both his arms and lifting him from the ground. "You shouldn't have lad." He scolded, but Mason could hear how touched he was.

"I jus...," Mason started as Marcus set him down, but was cut short as he found himself in a head lock and Marcus started cackling. Used to Marcus' 'Kato' attacks, Mason tripped the both of them and they were soon rolling about on the grass, much to the delivery crews' amazement and the delight of Danny who danced around them barking like they were wayward sheep. The main reason Mason had decided on his gift to start with was his friends love of the Pink Panther movies. Mason had even caught him watching the cartoons and laughing to beat the band. And an off shoot of that, with Marcus' pugnacious nature, was the Kato attack. Mason never knew when one was coming. Mason finally bit Marcus, who let him go with a howl and they started laughing. Mason climbing to his feet, then gave Marcus a wary hand. Marcus didn't reprimand Mason for being dirty. He being the one that taught him to bite. "They never remember the teeth." He was want to tell Mason when they watched an MMA match together. Another good reason for Marcus to have a huge TV in Mason's opinion, quite ignoring the fact that there were rules in such matches.

Danny seemed to sigh that the fun was over and went right back to the spot he had been sitting on when Marcus had told him to stay. Giving the meat on the table only half his attention now .

Mason explained to Marcus his reason for buying the stuff, sighting the matches they watched together rather than getting too sappy. And Marcus gruffly told him he would have to deal with it then, because he already had his own task to attend to. Waving towards the pit. "And I best be getting to it." Grumbling as he walked off, but Mason wasn't fooled. He showed them into the cottage and where to set things up. Telling them to just take the old tube TV with them when they left. And from the look in the older ones eyes, he figured it was finding a good home. He had them move Marcus' old chair over by the book-case and left them to finish up.

***

Brigid had outdone herself making an escarole and walnut salad topped with a sherry vinegar-shallot dressing and roasted sweet potatoes to go with Marcus' garlic and rosemary lamb. But Mason was finally stuffed and had to push his plate away. His stomach hurt just thinking about the pineapple upside down cake he knew Brigid would have baked for his birthday.