Vignette: The Inheritence Tax
#6 of Notebook
(Bobbie, James, and Midnight are owned by Geneseepaws, and used with permission.)
"Sire, the new tax bill is being voted on right now," stated Simon, sticking his head into James' study, where he was playing video games with Bobbie.
King James paused the game, and turned. "Did the inheritance clause make it in?"
"I'm afraid so, m'lord."
James sighed.
"It was a compromise, at least. Your family would only pay half."
"Very well. Put it on my desk when it arrives, I'll think about it."
"Hang on a minute," interrupted Bobbie once Simon had removed his head from the doorway, "what's the inheritance tax provision?"
"Y'know, lad: when someone dies, if their estate is over a certain amount, they get hit with a one-time tax on it before it passes on."
"I knew that. But what's the change?"
"It would make it apply to the royals."
"Wait... you don't get hit with it now?"
"Nah," James couldn't help but smile a bit.
"Well that's not fair!" insisted Bobbie. "I hope it passes."
James looked down at him. "Listen, lad, it's not just about fairness. It's more complicated, yar? It i'nt not normal property. If you taxed that, it might even shrink!"
"And you think it really couldn't afford to? James, I don't care if it's tradition. It used to be tradition that you had a whipping boy -- and I don't mean that kind, neither. You know it was awful. And... this seems like another one of those things that should go away."
"They've done the math," James said with a small edge in his voice, "and it would mean I'd have to sell 600 acres to pay the taxes."
Bobbie was surprised, but only for a moment. "And you'll really miss it in all that!? Sell some of the farmland, and you'll not even notice!"
James put his arm around Bobbie. "Listen, love: I just can't agree with you. I'm sorry. I'll tell you what I told Simon: I'll have to think about it."
Bobbie sighed, and unpaused.
"Sire, you have a telephone call," Simon popped in again not a moment later. "It's Midnight." James could hear the slight growl indicating Simon didn't approve.
"Patch it in," James instructed, pausing again, walking back over to his desk and putting it on the speaker.
"Hello?" asked James.
"Greetings," purred Midnight through the phone, "I have apologies for you, James. Or should I say, My Lord." Clearly, he wasn't attentive to titles like Simon. James expected as much.
"Apologize? For what?"
"You asked me to host a wonderful birthday party -- with after hours activities -- for Lord Graphton, yes? I did... but I fear it didn't have the effect on his vote you expect it to have."
James set his jaw. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, it seems that he got -- friendly, let's say -- with another MP who was invited, and she convinced him to lean more Republican."
"What? Who?"
"You know I am too discrete to tell you, even if you are the king. That's between them. Are you going to have me executed?"
James smiled. "You know I can't do that, Middy, but y'd better be glad it's th' century, 'tis, tho. Just one question, yar?"
"Perhaps."
"Did YOU have anything to do with them 'getting friendly'?"
There was a pause, followed by the wry remark, "thank goodness you can't execute me."
James slammed the speakerphone button off with his fist, and turned to look at Bobbie -- who was smiling widely, trying to avoid giggling.
"I think I understand palace politics now!" Bobbie suddenly burst out, and started laughing.
And James, unable to avoid catching it from the one he most loved, started laughing too.