As the lawyer talked, he took papers from his briefcase and passed them in front of Jack, as if to prove words. As if Jack had any idea what they meant.
"As per Marcus' request, you will begin receiving his royalty payments from The War of the Roads," Carter said, showing Jack a notarized page. "Marcus' profit share was decided in the original contact and amended with the sale of the film and merchandising rights. Last year, though, a sizable share of the royalties came from the new WOTR iPhone game. Since those profits were considered adjunct to the original video game licensing agreement, your father received two-point-five percent of the profits instead of the standard two-point-two-five."
Harriet listened to the lawyer from behind her desk, while she organized a clump of paper clips into bins based on their size. Occasionally, she would glance to Jack with an apologetic frown.
"We funnel most of the royalty payments into established funds that maintain this property," Carter went on. "Property taxes, staff, groundskeeping, and utilities are tall taken care of for the foreseeable future. Even if the market takes another hit, the long-term yield on these funds is comfortable enough that–"
"I'm sorry, Carter," Jack interrupted. "I completely trust that you and Harriet have taken care of the money. I wanted to talk about Guildron. I've been thinking about it a lot this week and I want to offer to finish his story."
Harriet and Carter both looked at him in surprise then exchanged surprised looks with each other. Their silence lasted long enough to tell Jack there was something he didn't know.
"You didn't tell him?" Carter said, even as Harriet was practically staring him down.
"Tell me what?"
Harriet could have leapt across the desk and tackled Carter, but instead she set her paperclips to the side. "Jack, your dad had to make a lot of concessions in order to get the movies produced. He wanted control but had to offer something in return."
"What?"
Carter folded his arms on the table. "Marcus agreed to posthumously relinquish future publishing options to Macintosh & White."
Jack stared at him for a second before looking to Harriet, who translated, "Your father agreed to let the publisher keep writing War of the Roads books after he died."
"But who's going to write them?" The question was so absurd, Jack ended it with a laugh.
"We're not sure yet," Carter said. "I'm sure once an appropriate amount of time has passed, we'll begin fielding candidates. Most likely it will be another well-known fantasy author. Someone the readers are familiar with."
"No," Jack said.
Carter looked like he didn't understand the word. "No?"
"No one else can write Guildron. It was dad's story, his baby!"
"And that baby is now an orphan." Harriet stood and Carter leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry, that was abrupt. What I meant to say was we'll make sure Guildron is well taken care of."
"There is no Guildron without Marcus Ward," Jack said.
Carter nodded, choosing his words carefully. "Unfortunately, Guildron no longer belongs to the Ward family. A hundred million reads want to know how The War of the Roads ends and we a responsibility to tell them. I can promise you that everyone on the team, including myself, is a lifelong fan. We will only move forward with a new book if it honors and continues the legacy of Marcus' stories."
Jack's eyes narrowed at the word stories.
"This isn't uncommon," Harriet said softly. "Lots of properties are handled this way after the author passes. I'm not the biggest fan of this situation, but it is the legal reality."
When Jack didn't reply, Carter began to gather up his notes. "I'm sorry to have to discuss this with you today. I really did respect your father." He shut the clasps and stood, turning to Harriet after Jack still didn't say anything. "I'll fax you the rest of the documents tomorrow. We'll just need a signature."
"I'll take care of it," Harriet said, motioning to the hallway but not moving. "Thanks, Carter."
For a minute, Carter looked like he was going to say something, but then he walked to the door.
"Let me write it," Jack said just as Carter stepped into the hall. The lawyer paused and turned back.
"Excuse me?" he and.
"Excuse me?" Harriet said.
"You said you want someone who the readers are familiar with. We have the same last name."
Carter's lip twitched with a smile as he tried to decide if Jack was kidding or serious. "Jack, you're eighteen."
"I'm a good writer," Jack said. "I won first in fiction at the Claremont Review Writing Contest. And I know Guildron better than anyone alive."
"This will be the most anticipated book of the century," Carter said. "Aren't you graduating high school this weekend?"
It was a fair question and Jack could only think of one answer. "I'm his son. That must count for something."
Carter sighed, dropping his shoulders and Harriet quickly jumped in. "It's not unheard of. Frank Herbert's son wrote several Dune novels after his father died and J.R.R. Tolkien's son is still releasing Middle Earth books."
"Christopher Tolkien graduated from Oxford," Carter said, adjusting his glasses. "And Brian Herbert co-wrote all of his books with a bestselling author. And neither were teenagers."
"Think of the press," Harriet said. "Marcus Ward's son carries on the family story. How many more copies would that sell than some stranger's vision of Guildron? How will the publishers look when everyone finds out Jack asked for this?"
The lawyer's eyes narrowed just the faintest amount at Harriet. "I, of course, can't make any promises on the publisher's behalf. But, if you can deliver the writing, I don't see why we can't come to some agreement on this."
That was as close to a victory as Jack had hoped.
The moment he left, Harriet gave Jack a steely glare. "Are you out of your mind?"
"But you just said–"
"I supported you because Carter was really starting to piss me off. Yes, it would be great if you kept writing for your father but they're going to want a new book in one year, maybe two. Even if you cut back your course load, it would be impossible."
When Jack didn't immediately reply, Harriet crossed her arms. "You are going to college, Jack. Get a degree in literature and pick up the series in four years."
He heard her argument and knew on some level that she was right. But it didn't change his mind. "I can't wait that long. In four years, what will they turn Guildron into?
"I can't support this," Harriet said.
"I understand. But it's not your choice."
For the first time in his life, Jack saw disappointment in Harriet's eyes. The great woman who had been the cornerstone of Marcus's empire and who had practically raised Jack suddenly looked so alone. Unnecessary.
"You're the only person in the world who could understand," Jack said softly. "This isn't just a story. I can't let someone else take it over. It wouldn't be fair to dad."
"You're right, it's your choice," Harriet said curtly. She looked down and started absently rearranging files on her desk.
Then, if only to break the tension, she said, "Kate's going to be pissed."