The Dearborns Pt. 6 of 6 — by Alex Ranieri

In the drabbest boardroom, in the ugliest office building, in the most mall-infested, highway-ridden, despair-mongering suburb of Chicago, Charles Luddington, Esq., LL.M., prepared to read a will. At a grand seventy-five years of age, he was beginning to turn one ear to his wife’s pleas for him to retire; and, indeed, he would usually forego such theatricals as an in-person reading; but this will marked the end of an era in his life, the which door he could not in good conscience allow to close, without himself easing it into its frame. For it was not only in his life, but in his father’s life, that Mr. Dearborn and Dearborn & Sons had played a part; three generations of men bearing that name had hardly walked an inch without sending first Andrew, and now Charles Luddington, Esq., LL.M, some document or other to look over. Three generations of signatures had kept the Luddingtons working far into three generations of nights; two birth certificates had been filed, three social security numbers memorized, five weddings notarized and, as of today, three wills would have been read.