You phone the number of the legal firm on the business card and set up an appointment to see an attorney the next day. When you arrive you are treated courteously by the smartly dressed receptionist and given a delicious cup of coffee as you wait for your appointment to begin. Gradually your worries of being taken in by an elaborate con job are alleviated as take in the expensive yet tasteful furnishing of the offices that surround you. The opulently dark mahogany paneling on the walls and the splendidly plush burgundy carpet under your feet all resonate an old world grace and charm as you sit in a comfortably high backed leather chair and suppress the urge to speak with an English accent. Your only knowledge of rooms like this comes from watching episodes of Masterpiece Theater on Public Television back home.
Soon a crisply suited man strides into the room offering a sincere sounding apology for making you wait. He is a very tall and stately gentleman who could easily have passed for Alistair Cooke himself except his accent is mid western instead of English. He ushers you politely into a conference room where he inspects your letter and key and nods his approval as though these are the only items he needs for your identification. He begins by offering his condolences for the loss of your great grand uncle Cornelius as though he did not realize that the man was a complete stranger to you, explaining that it was he who sent the letter himself upon the legal declaration of the death of Cornelius J. Dogbottom III.
“Declaration of death,” you ask, “didn’t he just die?”
“Not at all,’ his precise voice continues its urbane tone, “your uncle Cornelius vanished without a trace just over seven years ago at Dogbottom Manor. The court has only just now declared him dead so the matter of his estate can be dealt with.”
The lawyer looks at you meaningfully and you allow him to continue uninterrupted.
“Our research shows that you are his last living relation. As the legal firm who orchestrated the search I must say that it was with some measure of difficulty that we found you at all, your mother seems to have taken measures that made it difficult to trace her, changing her name and social security number not being the least of them. I wish to extend my condolences on her passing.” He says this in exactly the same manner as he did for great grand Uncle Cornelius. “Therefore, in the matter of your late uncle’s estate you have been named sole heir in his will and will receive all his assets, both financial and property.”
At this point the attorney pulls out a sheet of paper from a file lying on the conference room table and hands it to you. He recites from it seemingly from memory as you read along; it contains some very large sums of money from various accounts and lists of various property holdings and trusts. You begin to develop very warm feelings toward dear old great grand Uncle Cornelius J. Dogbottom III indeed. Despite the very large numbers contained on this list it is quickly gone through and next the attorney addresses the matter of Dogbottom Manor. He pulls out a very much larger stack of papers from the file as he does so.
It is at this point you realize how all the expensive wood paneling and furniture was paid for. If the devil could call for legal council on judgment day this man would be his lawyer. Dogbottom manor was bound by an intricate series of fiendishly Byzantine legal codes and regulations layered over it for so many generations that it was practically a sovereign nation unto itself, separate from both state and national influence. Documents declaring it a reservation, a corporation and a national monument had all been written since before the turn of the twentieth century. Some of these documents contained signatures that would make any collector envious, names of some of history’s most powerful lawmakers and legislatures, some who even sat at one time on the bench of the Supreme Court. Over all this the lawyer who stands before you has added his own name to the mound, working tirelessly to tie up all the loose ends of his predecessors. The end result of this was a resounding “Keep your hands off!” No one without a troop of lawyers and a hundred years to battle in court can touch Dogbottom Manor; it would stand unchanged for as long as the Republic lasts.
After a very long and tedious explanation of the ties that bind at Dogbottom the lawyer turns to you with a thin smile and asks you to add your own name to the pile. He asks you to sign papers making you the new owner and guardian of Dogbottom Manor. Sign papers that will just as surely mean the house owns you as you own it.
****
You ask for some time to think it over before signing anything.
Bring on the papers, you're ready to be a millionaire!