I stared at him.
“You what?”
“I take care of it.”
A serious-looking man near the front stood and approached us. I had assumed he was one of Walter’s relatives, but he was actually the family attorney.
He handed me a leather portfolio.
Hope immediately returned.
Perhaps it contained property deeds, trust documents, or maps showing several private islands.
I opened it.
The first page read:
THE WALTER FAMILY STEWARDSHIP CHARTER.
Below the title was a list of responsibilities:
Visit employees experiencing hardship.
Interview scholarship applicants.
Attend retirement dinners.
Serve in community kitchens.
Mentor apprentices.
Read customer letters.
Visit the original family bakery every month.
I looked up at Walter.
“When do I receive the mansion?”
“After you understand why it was built.”
The guests laughed.
Even my father.
I flipped through the pages.
“What about the yacht?”
Walter directed me to the final appendix.
One sentence appeared in bold:
There is no yacht.
The laughter became louder.
Walter explained that his grandfather had built the family business from a rented bakery kitchen. The fortune now belonged to a trust, and each generation was allowed to manage it only while following the charter.
