by Claire Adams
Memories of always fighting with my idiotic stepbrother over useless shit.
I ran my hands over the delicate blue my stepmother convinced my father to use on the hallway walls. I could smell her sea cotton perfume wafting in the corners as I rounded into the kitchen. Tears rose in my eyes as I watched memories of us dance in my vision. I could see my jet black hair bobbing against my shoulders as she lifted me up to let me stir the cake batter. I could see her showing me how to accurately cook rice, spiced with a bit of pepper and butter. I smiled at the memory of her throwing open the double doors to the backyard, watching me run to the weeping willow with my newest book while her pies cooled on the windowsill.
But my footsteps stopped when I found myself at the entryway to my father’s office.
The smell of his earthy cologne coupled with the reminiscence of his cinnamon cigars smacked me directly in the face. I closed my eyes, listening for the scuffling of his patent leather shoes against the kitchen floor. I could hear the kiss he planted on my stepmother’s cheek just before he rounded the corner to head for his office.
But, when I turned around to greet him, no one was there.
“Oh, Daddy,” I said in a whisper.
A tear dripped onto my cheek before I drew in a shaky breath. I threw the door to his office open, watching the dust slowly drift around in my vision, and the first thing I saw was the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books that he would never touch again.
I got my love of reading from him. I had a goal when I was younger to read every single book he had on his shelves by the time I graduated with my bachelor’s degree. I’d come home every single weekend and devour the books in his office, but I was only halfway through them by the time I finished my two-year degree.
I walked over to his desk, trembling with emotion while the tears slid down my cheeks, and my fingertips reached out to grace the edge of his desk. The deep, thick mahogany wood was smooth underneath my touch, releasing smells into the air it had absorbed over the years. That was the thing about walls and furniture — they seemed to sense when there was a loss.
I was convinced houses had muscle memory. They could soak up secrets and memories and smells, then release them whenever someone was absent. The walls would open their microscopic crevices and release the scents and sounds they were holding onto, and the furniture would blow small puffs of memories into the air. It would fill rooms with the sensory reminiscence of the things it missed most, and I convinced myself that this was why houses always smelled like the people who inhabited them.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, soaking in the smells the desks and books had for me while the memories they whispered blanketed my conscious mind.
I was so wrapped up in my memories and looking at all of my father’s trophies and awards that I didn’t even hear someone walk in.
“Hey there, Stella.”
I startled and opened my eyes to see Greyson leaning up against the doorway of my father’s office. He wore a smirk while his hands were jammed into his pockets, and the look in his eye told me he wasn’t here to give his condolences.
I wasn’t in the mood for his sly tricks and bullshit accusations. Not today.
Not during this moment in my life.
“Hey, Greyson,” I said.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Could be better,” I said, sighing.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“My dad died,” I said, flatly.
“Ah, that. Well, why don’t I take you to dinner? Cheer you up a bit?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I don’t really feel like going anywhere,” I said.
“It’ll get you out. I’m sure you’ve been drowning yourself in tears in your childhood bed or something,” he said.
“Not really. Just walked in about an hour ago,” I said as I walked over to my father’s trophy case.
“He was a very intelligent man,” Greyson said.
“I know.”
“You take after him,” he said.
“I know that, too,” I said.
“Then, let me tell you something you don’t know,” he said. “If you come to dinner with me, it will take your mind off things. I have many stories to fill you in on, and I’m sure you have plenty of stories yourself.”
“You know I can’t talk about the cases I see at work,” I said.
“Oh, come on. You’re just a paramedic. I know a few paramedics. They talk about what they see all the time.”
“Well, they’re not supposed to,” I said.
“Just come to dinner. It’s free, for crying out loud. This house won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” he said.
“I said no, Greyson. I don’t feel like going anywhere. I need to go through my father’s things and sort through some paperwork, and then the reading of their wills is on Monday,” I said.
“All the more reason for you to get your mind off things,” he said.
“Either stay and help or leave,” I said.
I heard him huff before he pushed his body off the doorway. It groaned underneath his weight, and I watched him turn his back in the glass of the case. I rose my hands to finger the reflections of the trophies, studying them intently as I reminisced on the awards ceremonies I went to as a child. My father single-handedly changed the face of medical supplies with some of his own personal inventions, and much of the money he had acquired in his older age came from the patents and licensing of the technology he’d developed. He would initially design them to help someone in our community, but they somehow always ended up in the right hands.
To this day, I’m convinced it was my stepmother recognizing my father’s talents in a way he never did.
“Stella?”
I turned at the sound of Daisy’s voice and watched her come around the corner. I smiled, ecstatic to see my best friend, and I strode over to her before I wrapped her up in my arms.
“He’s gone, Daisy,” I said breathlessly.
“Greyson or your father?” she asked.
I pulled back, kissing her on the cheek before I sighed.
“What the hell was he doing here?” she asked.
“Wanting to take me out to dinner,” I said.
“Then why is he leaving?” she asked
“Because I told him not tonight,” I said.
“He’s a dick, Stella,” she said.
“He’s got his moments, yes,” I said.
“He’s got more than moments, Stella. He’s a grade-A asshole. You just lost your dad, and you mean to tell me he’s not even staying with you? He should be the one helping you do this,” she said.
“In his defense, I didn’t ask either of you to come. I simply told you both I was coming here,” I said.
“Which is Stella-code for ‘please come be with me,’” she said.
“Well, when I speak in Stella-code, I know he usually doesn’t get it. And that’s fine with me.”
“No, you make it fine because you know if you asked him to stay, even without dinner and the assumed sex afterward, he still wouldn’t stay.”
“Daisy, not right now,” I said, sighing.
“Fine, fine. Alright, alright. I’ll play nice. But I hate Greyson. He’s a shithead who isn’t good enough for you,” she said.
“I get it, Daisy.”
“How’re you doing, Stella?” she asked.
“It hurts,” I said. “Real deep down.”
“Come here.”
She wrapped me back up in her arms, and I sighed heavily into her shoulder. It hurt so much standing in this room, but I knew I had to do it. My father’s desk and his books held so much information I would need on the company when they handed it over to me, and the sooner I could figure out where they’d left off, the sooner I could get everything back on track.
“Want to go sit on his leather couch in the corner?” she asked.
“It smells like him,” I said, whispering.
“It’ll be a start,” she said.
S
he walked me over to the leather couch in the corner, and we slowly sat down. All of a sudden, I was 15 years old again. I was sprawled out on my father’s couch with a book while he typed aimlessly in the background, mumbling to himself about orders and paperwork and new products.
“Your father was a good man, and you’ll always have those memories of him,” she said.
“I miss him so much,” I said, sniffling.
“I know you do. And you’ll be able to keep his legacy going when you take over Harte To Heart,” she said.
“I want to keep making specialty supplies for the community. He really had a heart for that. But I don’t have the creative mind he did. What if I can’t do it?” I asked.
“You are more like your father than you realize. You’ll get into the swing of things, I promise. You just need to let yourself grieve first,” she said.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye, Daisy,” I said. “He was gone. His mind was already somewhere else.”
“I know,” she said. “I know, sweetheart.”
“It killed me, pulling him off that ventilator,” I said breathlessly.
“How’s Christian taking all this? Is he coming by later?” she asked.
“Who the fuck knows?” I asked, pulling away from her. “He came to the hospital, murmured to his mom for a bit, pulled her plug, and left before the life-support machines even fucking died down.”
“Yikes,” she said.
“Yeah. Just as fucking heartless as Greyson just was,” I said.
“So, you won’t talk to your callous stepbrother, but you’ll have sex with your insensitive boyfriend.”
“Daisy,” I warned.
“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, when do you start with the company?” she asked.
“The reading of the will is Monday, then once they declare me the head of the company, I can get started immediately. The will serves as official paperwork until I can get stuff signed and notarized,” I said.
“Well, you’ll have to call me afterward so we can go to dinner. Your treat,” Daisy said, winking.
“I can do that,” I said.
“In the meantime, what are you doing for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“I’m just not hungry,” I said.
“That what you told Greyson?” she asked.
“I said I didn’t feel like going anywhere, which is the truth. I want to sit here and marinate in the memories and smells of this home. It’s all I’ve got left of him, Daisy. I’m not ready to leave it.”
“And no one’s asking you to. Not me, at least,” she said.
“But, thanks for the offer,” I said.
“Oh, you’re not getting out of eating. Pizza delivers. What was your father’s favorite?” she asked.
I smiled at her before I laid my head on her shoulder. Daisy was my best friend for many reasons, but one of the main reasons was that she understood. She accepted the way I needed to wind down and study. The things I needed to accomplish to feel like I’d succeeded in life. She understood the way my mind processed things and what was necessary for me to move on.
And, at this very moment, she understood how I needed to grieve.
“Pepperoni and pineapple with olives and extra cheese,” I said.
“Olives?” she asked.
“Yep,” I said.
“Well, we’ll put those on your half. Large pizza with soda and cheesy bread?” she asked.
“Sounds fantastic,” I said.
She got up to order the pizza and left me with my thoughts. My eyes scanned the room, landing on the shelves of books I still hadn’t read yet. When I started getting my Bachelor’s in health and nutrition, I didn’t have the time to come home and read like I did when getting my Associate’s. I didn’t have the time to sit on this leather couch and devour his collection just so I could feel closer to him while he was working in his office.
So, I got up and walked over to the first shelf and plucked a book from its place before carrying it back over to the leather couch.
“Oh, and Stella?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be alright. Okay?”
“I know,” I said, a slight smile crossing my face. “I know.”
“And you’ll be a hell of a business owner,” she said, winking.
I shook my head at her while she ordered the pizza and I cracked open the book in my hands. I found my father’s notes in the margins of the textbook, years of pencil and pen marks that scrawled idea after idea on the pages, and even found little drawings and doodles with dimensions and schematics scribbled in between the text lines of the pages.
It was then I realized what I’d picked up.
I’d found my father’s treasure trove of ideas.
And I read everything he had written in the margins while Daisy’s voice faded into the background.
Chapter Three
Christian
“Better late than never,” Stella said, muttering.
The reading of my mother’s will was today, and I was not looking forward to it. I couldn’t have cared less about all the things they were leaving to Stella, and I didn’t understand why the lawyer insisted I be here. From the moment I walked in, I could feel Stella’s entitled snobbery bounce off the walls, and all I wanted to do was turn around and leave.
“It’ll be quick because everything’s already yours anyway,” I said.
“Whatever,” she said.
I sat down beside her while the lawyer rifled through papers. I pulled out my phone and started playing on it, willing this entire thing to be over. I could feel Stella’s eyes on me before I saw her shake her head, but it was the lawyer’s voice who caught me off guard.
“You are going to want to pay attention to this, Mr. Gunn,” he said.
“Fine,” I said, sighing.
“The first item on the list—”
“There’s a list?” I interrupted.
“—is a letter from Stella’s father,” the lawyer said, shooting me a nasty look.
“Try to shut up for this part,” Stella said coolly.
“Would you like me to read it?” the lawyer asked Stella.
“Yes, please,” she said. I watched her tuck her hands between her legs, and for the first time in my life, I thought I saw her eyes well up with tears.
I’d never seen her react this strongly to anything before.
“My dearest Stella,” the lawyer began. “First, let me say how proud I am of you. Your passion for reading and education is akin to my own, and it brings me great pride to see the young woman you’ve blossomed into. What you have accomplished in your life is more than most, and you should carry your pride as a badge.”
I heard her sniffle as the lawyer paused, and I watched her every movement. The tear running down her face streaked the makeup she had tried to throw on this morning, and part of me wanted to reach out and hold her hand. With her inheriting the company, I didn’t think she’d take this as hard as she was. She was the smart one, and everyone knew she’d be alright.
“I tell you all of this knowing you will be angry with my decision about the company,” the lawyer said.
I watched Stella tip her head up. The lawyer now had the whole of my attention, and the hands that were tucked between her thighs were now clutching the chair.
“You are my daughter, my ray of sunshine. The light in my eye and the angel of my days. You are strong, beautiful, and I know you will be fine without me. I have taught you well, and you have succeeded in everything you have set out to do. I do not want something like Harte To Heart to hold you back from all you have yet to accomplish, which is why I am handing the company over to Christian.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Which is why I am handing the company over to Christian,” the lawyer repeated.
“He’s doing what?” Stella asked breathlessly.
I looked over at her and saw a red flush rising up her neck. Her crying eyes immediately turned hard, with those ice green eye
s reflecting the anger fluttering up her skin. She was gripping the chair so hard her arms were shaking, and I simultaneously felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut.
He was fucking giving me the company? I didn’t know shit about the business. I couldn’t have cared less about his idiotic company!
“My relationship with Christian over the years has shown me that not only is he intelligent enough to run the company, but he is, in fact, capable of it. My beautiful daughter, you are wise beyond your years, and you are still in the process of getting your Bachelor’s degree. You need to pursue that. I know how important your education is to you. I won’t allow this company to divert you from something you’ve always dreamed of as a little girl.”
“He can’t what?” she asked flatly.
“Stella, it’s not—”
“Shut up,” she said, whipping her head in my direction. “Shut. Up.”
“Christian is prepared to take over this company, even though he might not realize it. His natural want to learn and digest every single medical journal just because he wants to will push the company in the direction it needs to keep going. You, my beautiful daughter, will want to preserve my legacy within it. Christian will take his intelligence and push it in the direction all modern companies need to go to succeed in the emerging marketplace.”
“What does all of that mean?” I asked.
“The mere fact that you ask that question means you aren’t equipped to run the damn company,” Stella said.
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to run the damn company,” I said.
“How the hell is he getting the business?” she asked the lawyer. “He doesn’t even want it! That must hold weight in here, right?”
“Not in the least,” the lawyer said.
“Is there anything else in that letter?” she asked.
“Know that I love you and that I have the best interests of both you and the company in mind. I am forever yours. Signed, Your Father,” the lawyer said.
