The Heir
| The Heir | |
| Paul Robertson | |
| Baker Publishing Group (2007) | |
| Rating: | *** |
| Tags: | ebook, book |
### From Publishers Weekly
It's a familiar plot: the death of a filthy rich relative-who of course altered his will just hours before his sudden demise-results in instant wealth for an heir no one expected. In this debut novel from Robertson, a computer programming consultant, young mogul Jason Boyer discovers that his newly minted fortune is tainted by his deceased robber-baron father's legacy of corruption, scandal and power brokering in New England. Will Jason find the moral courage to clean his corporate house and do something meaningful with his millions? And was his father's fatal car crash really an accident? Pacing is a problem throughout much of this story, which doesn't hit its stride and become a bona fide suspense novel until the final 50 pages. Most of the characters are routine stock figures-the upwardly mobile wife; the corpulent and scheming attorney-with only Jason's innocent younger brother Eric breaking the mold. Robertson offers some strong observations on greed and human nature, and adopts a refreshingly soft approach to religious faith. The humor, which could work well in another context, feels adolescent in such a dark tale. Despite promising themes and a decent plot, this God-and-mammon novel would benefit from stringent editing and stronger supporting characters.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
### From Booklist
*Starred Review* Robertson's first novel is a Gresham-like tale of intrigue and murder about the son, Jason Boyer, of a New England financial titan and kingmaker. Jason barely knew his father, a tough, remote man who sent Jason and his brother to boarding schools, but Jason becomes sole heir upon the old man's sudden death. Jason is cynical but uncorrupted, and his first impulse is to divest himself of the old man's holdings. Then the power that his inheritance commands seduces him, and he grows as ruthless as his father. And then, once more and finally, he sees the light and proceeds to clean up all that his father and he have befouled. Or, at any rate, he tries, in this suspenseful first novel with a lot of humor and well-drawn minor characters.
*John Mort*
*Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved*
Praise for
The Heir
“Robertson’s first novel is a Grisham-like tale of intrigue and murder about the son, Jason Boyer, of a New England financial titan and kingmaker.”
—
Booklist
(starred review)
“A wonderful, vicarious trip into the worlds of money, politics, and power. . . . Something to share with anyone who appreciates good writing and a great story.”
—
Aspiring Retail
“. . . this is very, very good. I’m definitely interested in seeing what Paul Robertson has for us next. Recommended.”
—Tim Frankovich,
christianfictionreview.com
“In
The Heir,
Paul Robertson serves up politics, privilege, and murder with a side of acerbic wit. What a fabulous book—a great mix of angst, humor, and, ultimately, hope.”
—T. L. Hines, author of
Waking Lazarus
and
The Dead Whisper On
“Robertson’s lean and witty writing style fits the plot well. The story is told in first person through Jason’s intelligent persona and delivered with enough literary razzle dazzle to make it appeal to not only the plot addict but the word junkie as well.”
—Violet Nesdoly,
blogcritics.org
“Intense and compelling,
The Heir
is a fast, smart read. The tension and suspense constantly build off one another. Often frustrating, frequently humorous, always thought provoking, The Heir has the makings of a mystery classic.”
—Phillip Tomasso III,
inthelibraryreviews.net
Books by
Paul Robertson
The Heir
Road to Nowhere
THE
HEIR
P
AUL
R
OBERTSON
The Heir
Copyright © 2007
Paul Robertson
Cover design by Paul Higdon
Cover art by Carmelo Bongiomo/Getty Images
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-7642-0469-2
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Robertson, Paul J., 1957–
The heir / Paul Robertson.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0324-4 (hardcover : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-7642-0324-X (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Inheritance and succession—Fiction. 2. Corporations—Corrupt practices— Fiction. I. Title.
PS3618.O3173H45 2007
813'.6—dc22
2006037952
It may be that only a man who has struggled toward a goal for many years and finally reached it can know how much I thank my wife, Lisa, for her love and faith.
Thank you to my parents, Ken and Nancy, and of course to the excellent Ellen, Greg, and Jeff.
To my friends who prayed for and encouraged me and commented on the manuscript, to Steve Laube, and to the superlative staff at Bethany, thanks to you all.
And my gratitude to Mill Mountain Coffee and Tea in Blacks-burg, Virginia—what a great place to write.
. . . I say unto you,
It is easier for a camel to go through
the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to
enter into the kingdom of God. . . .
Table of Contents
I couldn’t take my eyes off the casket. It was expensive, and it glowed, resting among the candles and the heaps of flowers. It so perfectly expressed the man inside.
The dignitaries droned, and I didn’t hear them. We knew it all. We knew what he had done with his life. If a man knows his purpose, then everyone else will know it, too.
They’d been told what to say and to keep it short, and they obeyed. They’d all gotten where they were by doing what they were told.
It was tribute by catalog listing: achievements, philanthropy, and Senate career. The real man was never mentioned—the companies he inherited, the rivals he crushed, the cold blood behind the politics— but everyone knew. Was anyone else listening? It’s easy to eulogize a man who knew why he lived his life.
I just stared at that gleaming box and wondered why I was living mine.
We sang a hymn, and that brought me back—words obscure enough to drive any clear thoughts from a man’s brain. A voice behind me sang off-key.
I watched the man’s wife instead. Her name was Angela, and she was sitting between my brother, Eric, and me. I might have given her a hug, but she had always objected to my familiarity. It was nothing personal; she objected to anyone. Her brother and sister were not at the service.
She was his second wife. The other one died young of cancer, which had been worth a lot of sympathy in his first election. If he had grieved for her, I wouldn’t know.
I looked back. The off-key voice behind me was another senator, a man I’d never liked. He had no speaking part. It was probably a snub.
For a moment it seemed a pity the whole thing was going by so fast. The church was flawless, and the funeral was such a good use for it. Now I even knew the true purpose of candles: to reflect off that casket. They were going to look tacky anywhere else. And there I was staring at it again.
Candles knew their purpose, but I didn’t have a clue about mine.
The governor said his few words about what he had felt when he heard about the accident—the shock and sadness, the great man cut down in his prime, what a loss to the state. He shook his head at the whole sad mystery of life and death and checked his watch.
“Jason?”
I pushed past Katie and got up to the pulpit. Now the box was right in front of me, shining like a waxed floor. I needed something else to look at.
The back wall of the place had a row of statues in it, saints or angels, and one had his hand up waving at me. I never had written anything to say.
“Why am I here?” The little saint seemed friendly, so I figured I’d just talk to him. “I wish I knew.” Maybe it was a her, not a him. They all wear robes.
“I think he could have told me. He knew why he was here, what he was doing. He never doubted anything he did.” Somehow, I was staring at the casket again. I found my friend on the wall. “Maybe he is now.”
They were all watching me, but I watched the back of the church. “The one thing I ever really knew for sure in my life was that he was there. I only saw him a few times a year and I won’t miss him for that. It’s more like a mountain is gone—one you’d see off in the distance.”
