 
Click Here Return to Home Page Read First Chapter July's Valentine July squared her shoulders before she whirled around from the window to face her family's attorney. Her smooth dark brown hair, which hung straight from a central part, outlined her oval face like a frame. It swirled around settling to her shoulders into its expensive-cut, flowing style. Her creamy complexion, high cheekbones, and wide grey eyes were the features of a very pretty girl. Today, however, her face frowned with grief, and her mouth dipped in despair. Prescott W. Prescott, attorney at law, had been studying her. July knew her eyes were sullen, and her face belligerent, but she didn't care. "You're telling me there's no money for school, and that our allowance will be completely eliminated?" She fought to keep her voice steady. "Have we lost everything, then?" The referred to second half of the we was a brother presently serving an LDS mission in Guatemala. "What will we do about Randy?" P. W. let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. If July could be concerned about Randy, she couldn't be as embittered as she looked. Mr. Prescott answered the last question first. "Cynthia and I will be proud to contribute to Randy's mission, July. We already consider ourselves committed on that issue. In fact, we will hear no arguments." He cleared his throat at the sight of tears filling her eyes, and continued, "There is no flowery way to put this, July. There is no money from your father, period. There is no money for school, or for living expenses. Your house will most likely have to go on the market, there simply isn't enough money to pay the taxes on it. The lawsuit saw to that. The sale of the house won't realize as much as you need, but it should at least see the two of you through a bachelor degree. Since your parents were insured for a million each, the attorney for the Gilroy family was determined to get it all, and more . . ." "I was there, remember?" She broke in forlornly. "They were vicious about my father, they. . . they called him a m-murderer. When the jury granted them ten million dollars, I thought that at least there might be enough to keep our home, and get Randy and I through school. You thought so, too, didn't you? You said Dad's business was solid, and that it could be sold." "When I told you that, I hadn't yet gone over all your father's papers," the lawyer hesitated. She had borne so much, this young girl, and she was alone. Her brother would be home from his mission in July. He had delayed going for two of those years, but she had encouraged him to go after that. She was nearing her twenty-first birthday. For three years he had watched as she and her brother had struggled with the abrupt loss of their parents, and their way of life. Well, he had lost the trial. Yesterday the opposing attorney's summation to the judge had been brutal. When the judge had decided in favor of the Gilroy's to the tune of nearly ten million dollars, he realized the judge intended to award them every single penny left in the estate. He dreaded telling her this final blow. "The business was worth only a few million-when your father was alive. He made the company worth that much. If we can find a buyer for it, it won't be worth half that, and the Gilroy's may attach it as part of the estate. Remember, it was just beginning to show good profits when he . . . "There was very little left of his former business assets. It appears that when your father and Wilson dissolved their partnership, it was over something more serious than a parting of the ways. Your father chose not to prosecute, but Wilson embezzled nearly all their firm's assets. As far as we were able to discover at the time, he lost most of it on some wildcat scheme. Your father and mother, for Jennifer Wilson's sake, decided not to try and recoup their losses. Wilson skipped the country with all that remained of their funds, and his secretary." "What about Dad's stocks, his investments? Will the Gilroys get those, too?" "The investments I thought he had were solid, but he sold them, July. He sold them all to pay off the investors who had lost heavily from the embezzlement. He dropped his mortgage cancellation policy on your house in Salt Lake, and deeded the property to you. Had he not done that, the Gilroy's would have most likely taken that, as well. He sold all the other properties he owned, and gathered all the cash he could to make reparation. I want you to remember that he did make good on those investors, July. Your father nearly bankrupted himself to cover their losses. He worked night and day to reestablish his business, and he would have done it if . . . "That's why he was always so tired," July's voice dulled to monotone. "He never said a word. I would have helped him had I known. I didn't need that big allowance." She turned to him and her eyes were blanked of all emotion. "Was every last debt paid? Were you paid, Uncle Pres?" The old childhood name for him rolled off her tongue. His heart twisted and tightened. She was so young for such a series of blows. "As you know, July, I was one of his investors. Your father repaid my investment, along with all the others. I admired your father more than any other man I know. I wanted him to use a portion of my investment to rebuild, but he wouldn't. At least I am able to waive my fee for defending you and Randy." The attorney paused and wiped his eyes on the white handkerchief his wife insisted he carry. "You father wasn't around to argue me out of it," he added irrelevantly. "But that isn't fair to you," she protested. "I want you to be paid. You worked so hard, Uncle Pres, and you've been so kind." July brushed her hair back from her face as she lifted her head that had sunk to her chest with each added revelation. "There just wasn't any money left, my dear, after the court costs. You and Randy have been living off some of the assets for the past three years. The house and a few minor stocks held by your mother are the only assets you and Randy have left. Technically the house belongs only to you, as it is in your name. If you sell the stocks taken out in your mother's name, there may be enough to keep you for a while, certainly enough to pay your tuition in the winter semester, and this year's taxes on the house, but. . ." "I can't let go of our home, it half belongs to Randy no matter what the deed says. It's the same with the stocks. Don't worry about the money, Uncle Pres," she squared her shoulders again, "I'll just have to quit school and go to work." Mr. Prescott sighed. July was going to be difficult about this. He took a deep breath, and said gently, "I can put the house on the market if you like. Large homes aren't doing well just now, but we can try. It might be enough to finance you and Randy through school at least." When he saw that she didn't want to let go of the last link with her parents, he told her bluntly, "The taxes are due in November. The house is paid for, July, but it will eat you alive to maintain it. What little money that you gain from the sale of stocks would be eaten up by summer. Eventually you will have to sell the house and most of the contents to cover next year's taxes." "The cars?" July's father had been a car buff, and had bought and refurbished many antique automobiles. He had built an extra garage onto his property just to store them. "The cars were listed with the assets," he said regretfully, "and will be auctioned off by the Gilroy's attorney to make up the last of their settlement. I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid that your car and Randy's will have to go with the others since your father held the titles to them." He knew she must have been thinking of her little yellow mustang, her eighteenth year birthday present. He wondered how could she bear to part with it. He had been there the day her Dad and Mom had led her outdoors blindfolded, and whipped the bandana off her eyes to reveal the fully restored 64 ½ mustang with its leather interior, pony seats, and bright new paint. She had cried then, her eyes were dry and hard now. There had been too many losses, too much to cry over. She rubbed her eyes as though they burned. "School is out of the question. I don't see the point of going back next semester, or even finishing this one for that matter, if I won't be allowed to finish. I've still a year to go, and Randy will have more than that. Anyway, I've missed so much school this semester what with the trial, I'll probably have to take some of the classes over." A bleak look crossed her face. "I've finished all my major classes, but my education studies won't get me a good paying job without completing my degree and getting my certification," She whirled from the window to face him. "The house will have to go. I suppose it's foolish to want to hang onto it. The only thing that made it home was Mom and Dad." "Don't give up your education, July. Go back to school. You have your apartment there paid up for the year, so that's no concern. There are student loans, and grants made to help struggling students finish their education. Cynthia and I. . ." "No," she interrupted, and when she held up a staying hand, some of the old sparkle came back to her eyes. "I am grateful that you are so generously helping Randy stay on his mission. It looks like I won't be able to help him, but I will not accept another thing from you. In fact, I intend to repay you the fee you have waived, when I can." She got the same determined look to her chin that her father had. "I need to think about things. I'm sure Randy will want to take your advice, so put the house on the market. It isn't likely that either of us will want to live there just now, or be able to afford to, for that matter. I'll write him tonight. I'm sure he'll see the need to sell, after all, he wants to go back to school when he gets home next July." She concluded briskly, "As for my education, I'll have to think about it." "Think, by all means, but do not allow despair to get the better of your judgement. Every young person today needs a good education," Prescott counseled her. Hoping to add a more upbeat note into the conversation, he changed the subject. "There are some happy events for which to look forward. Your wedding is one. You'll be sure to invite us to your wedding, won't you? After all, I am your guardian. When is the wedding to be, sometime after Randy gets home?" July thrust out her bare left hand and waved it in front of him. Clearly to be seen was the thin line where a ring had been. "There will be no wedding, did I forget to tell you? Jonathan discovered during the trial that he loved someone else, and broke our engagement." She laughed, but there was no merriment in it. "It wasn't because I lost my money, at least. He's marrying a girl with very little. Since Randy is still writing to the girl he left behind it's more likely that you'll be attending his wedding before mine." "Oh my dear," began Prescott tenderly. July couldn't bear it-not yet. His sympathy broke the tight hold she had been keeping on her brittle emotions. Spinning on her heel, she grabbed her faux fur hat and coat, and ran for the door.
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