by C.M. Lanning
never told him a story before, so he nodded, his mouth agape.
“One day, a rich man was walking through town in another country. He passed many poor people and beggars, all asking him for change. They all had different stories for wanting the money. Despite that, he didn't give out a single penny. That night, he went to a restaurant, and some of the poor people surrounded him when he came out. They were going to kill him and take his cash,” Claire's father said.
“What did he do?”
“He didn't do anything. When the poor people ran at him, another man appeared. The new man led the rich man away from the others and took him to a hiding spot where they couldn’t find him.
When the small group finally dispersed, the rich man got a good look at his savior. It was another beggar that he denied change to earlier in the day. He started to leave when the rich man called out to him saying, 'where is your son?' He remembered the reason that this beggar had asked for money was for medicine to take care of his son. The man simply uttered, 'Home.”
“Did the rich man help him?”
“The rich man paid a doctor to come and take care of the boy. Then, he bought the father a meal at the restaurant. For saving him, the rich man promised the father that he would provide a home and food for the father and his son if they would work for him. The father agreed, and they came to live with the rich man and worked for him. After that, both families were happy.”
“What happened to the father and son?”
“They're still working to this very day,” Claire's father said.
“Where?”
“You'll figure it out when you're older. Now, I've told you a story, so it's your turn to keep up your end of the deal.”
“Yes sir,” Barry said.
He got up and ran back outside. He'd only been inside for about ten minutes.
Claire was still outside. She hadn't completely stopped crying; she was still whimpering.
Walking up to her, Barry gave her a hug and said, “I'm sorry, Claire.”
She stopped crying.
“Are you ready to keep playing?”
“Yes,” Barry said.
He sat down in the same chair, and Claire proceeded to pour fake tea into the cups around the table. Barry didn't realize it until Claire “filled up” the tea cup of the stuffed animal next to him, but he looked to his left and saw the elephant.
He smiled and said nothing, but simply moved her hand a little to the right so the fake tea was directly over the elephant's cup.
“Are you awake, Barry?”
Barry came back to his senses.
Claire smiled, not knowing what he was thinking. She hoped he was thinking of her and trying his best not to show it. Claire loved toying with him. Not heavily, just a little flirting here and there, sometimes so subtle, she doubt he noticed. She knew it made him uncomfortable, but on some level she always sort of hoped he would cross the line with her, too.
Claire had to admit, he kept his feelings in check very well. He’d had years of practice. Still, there were some days where she just wanted him to cross the line, brush her bangs out of her eyes and then kiss her slowly. She didn’t think he ever would, but she would keep pushing that boundary, always hoping that one day, he’d just get over himself and do it.
“Sorry, just thinking about something,” he said.
He took her hand, and they went outside. Barry opened the passenger door for her, and she sat down inside.
He then went around to the driver's side.
Claire's father used to have a limo, but when Barry got his license and started driving her around, she complained the limo isolated her too much. So, her father bought her a red convertible. Claire always did have a slight flair for fun things in life. It was in her name, but Barry was the driver.
The car came to life as Barry turned the key. As they pulled out of the gated driveway and got on the road, Claire's long dirty blond hair started to blow in the wind. She didn't like to put her hair up, so she left it down most of the time.
After about ten minutes of driving, they arrived at her lawyer's office downtown. His name was Spencer Gibbings. He'd been Claire's family attorney for a long time.
The health of Claire’s father took a hit because he loved to smoke. He hated what he called the “cheap stuff.” He would never smoke cigarettes, but he loved other forms of tobacco.
He smoked a hookah, cigars, and he even smoked a pipe occasionally. He never showed any signs that it was really damaging his body. He didn't have coughing fits or anything, but one day he went in for a normal check up, and the results showed he actually had cancer.
The doctors gave him three months with chemotherapy or a month without it. He chose not to take the treatment and spent every day that month doing something with Claire. He took Claire all over the country on vacation. She refused to go without Barry though, so, Barry got to tag along.
Barry's father had already died, and it only made sense to take him.
Toward the last days of his life, Claire’s father got tired easily, so Barry spent more time looking after Claire.
They were flying back home on the family jet when Claire's father collapsed and died on the spot.
They were in the air, and it all happened so suddenly that nothing could be done about it. Claire didn't talk for at least a couple weeks after that. Eventually, when she realized that she still had Barry, and always would, she began to come out of her shell.
Barry got out first and went around to get Claire out of the car. He took her hand, and the two walked into the office.
The receptionist looked up from her computer screen and smiled when she saw the two of them. She walked over and gave Claire a hug.
She was a short plump woman with curly graying hair.
“Hey Sarah,” Claire said.
“I'd forgotten that today was the day. Has it really been five years?”
“It has. Daddy left specific instructions to wait for five years after his death before his will was read. I'm not sure why,” Claire said.
“There's no telling with your father. He always was such a spontaneous person. I'm sure he had a good reason though,” Sarah said.
She looked over at Barry and gave him a hug too.
“You've gotten even taller, Barry. When are you going to stop growing?”
“I have no clue. Maybe if I get big enough, I can just carry Claire around,” Barry said, laughing.
Claire jabbed him in the ribs lightly.
“I'll go get Spencer,” Sarah said. She walked into his office. A few seconds later, she came out and motioned that both of them could go in.
Barry could feel Claire's grip on his hand getting tighter.
“Hey, you okay?”
“I'm fine,” she said, softly.
Barry definitely felt a change in her demeanor as they approached the office. She was even shaking a little. He wanted so badly to just. . . scoop her into his arms and remind her that it would be okay. That, however, would be crossing the line, and it was something he would not do.
She took a deep breath and then actually walked ahead of Barry into the office. He followed behind, surprised at her sudden determination.
Spencer shook Barry's hand and kissed Claire's.
The guy was always a class act. He wore a nice suit, and he was tall, muscular, and his age showed through his salt and pepper hair.
“You look lovely,” Spencer said.
“Thanks Spencer. . . you been busy today?”
“No, you're my only appointment. Out of respect for you and your family, you're the only ones I'm meeting with,” Spencer said.
“I see. Did daddy ever tell you why he wanted me to wait five years before reading his last will and testament?”
Spencer shifted in his chair and slid the manila envelope onto the table.
“I honestly don't know, Claire. I suppose when he knew he was going to pass on, he wanted you to be a big enough girl to handle whatever he was leaving you,” Spe
ncer said.
“Well, I think I'm ready to handle whatever is in that envelope,” Claire said.
“I'll excuse myself then,” Barry said, as he got up to leave.
Claire's hand caught his arm.
“You will stay right here next to me, as you always have,” Claire said.
Barry didn't say anything for a few seconds. She wasn't looking him directly in the eyes, not that he expected her to.
“This is your father's will. I have no place listening to it. Whatever is in there is for you and Mr. Spencer to deal with,” Barry said.
“You will read it to me,” Claire said.
“Spencer is more than capable,” Barry said.
“He won't so much as open the envelope. This is our families' business, Barry. Please take the envelope, open it, and read the will to me. I'm sorry, Spencer, but I want Barry's eyes to be the first to see it,” Claire said.
“But I-” he stopped mid sentence when Claire finally did make eye contact with him. She didn't do it very often, but he knew that when she did, he'd just lost whatever argument they were having.
The stunning green orbs that were her eyes looked faded, and he knew that she couldn't see him, but that didn't change anything.
“As you wish,” Barry said.
“Spencer?”
“Well Claire, I hope you find a token of your father's love in there,” Spencer said, handing the folded to Barry.
Barry's hands started to sweat as he held the envelope. He felt like he was holding something that weighed several thousand pounds when he knew that this thing could easily blow away in the wind.
It was sealed with some kind of wax, so Barry pulled out his small pocket knife. He used it to gently undo the wax seal. Then, he opened the envelope.
There
