“Both surviving sons,” Earl began, his eyes skimming the document Seraphina was certain he had memorized, “each get one hundred thousand dollars each, to be distributed in increments every three months of five thousand dollars, given that they take drug and alcohol tests and get negative test results each time.”
“What does that mean?” Alan said, and Seraphina could detect the strain of patience in his voice. From the way his fingers were gripping the sheets of white paper, her uncle did not look happy with the result.
“It means,” Earl said, none too pleased to have been rudely interrupted, “that one hundred thousand dollars goes to you, but you do not get the entire thing at once. Instead, Ken wanted you and your brother to be on a payment plan: every three months you get five thousand dollars if you pass and drug and alcohol test distributed randomly. As the successor of his will, the time and location of your tests will be at my discretion, but I am open to ensuring that it is not too far from your current residence.”
“What if I’m on painkillers?” Alan said. His voice was losing the hold of patience already and they had only begun to read Papa’s will.
“Any prescription medication you and Ryan are on shall be disclosed once the reading is finished,” Earl stated. “Anything else is subject to fail the test.”
“And what if we do fail?”
“The money is split evenly between Seraphina and Katella.”
Great. Yet another reason for Alan to hate his only nieces. Seraphina wasn’t sure if hate was the correct word to describe his disdain he had for her and her sister, but it certainly felt like it and for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why that was.
Alan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Seraphina thought it looked like a smile that resulted from someone slowly losing their grip on their sanity. “I don’t understand,” was all he managed to say.
“Ken wanted both of you“ – here, he looked both at Alan and Ryan – “to learn from your mistakes. He stressed the fact that his two sons were supposed to be independent adults, not two men who depended on outside stimuli. If you can’t control your urges in regards to drugs and alcohol, he did not think you should be rewarded, and he specifically said that he was through giving the two of you second chances, lending the two of you money to start up a business or to buy a house, only to see that business fail to get off the ground or that house to foreclose months later. Why would he reward you for doing something he was so adamant against?”
Though Alan said nothing in response, Seraphina could feel him seething in anger. She looked over at her sister, to see if she could feel it too, and when she locked eyes with Katella, she knew that she wasn’t the only one who could sense it. Alan’s temper, like Ryan’s, was unpredictable, but unlike Ryan, it didn’t just happen when he was drunk. If anything, his anger flared when he was forced to maintain composure, like right now.
Earl kept firm eye contact with Alan, almost as though he was daring the younger man to refuse, to claim how unfair it was. When Alan remained quiet, Earl continued.
“Everything else is split down the middle between Katella and Seraphina, including his bank accounts, his primary place of residence, the property he owns, and any income generated from the Seagulls,” Earl concluded. He looked only at the two women in the room. “What this means, ladies, is that you can choose to keep or sell the residential home as well as the rentals, and whatever income generated is split down the middle between the two of you. If you keep everything, the revenue from the rentals is also split.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Alan snarled as he lost complete control of himself. “These girls are in their goddamn early twenties and already are multi-millionaires without doing anything except kissing ass?”
Seraphina could feel her own temper start to flare. It wasn’t because of his anger at them getting the majority of the money or even that he believed she and Katella didn’t deserve it, but to think that they were kissing ass rather than loving and caring about her grandfather - Before Seraphina could say something, Katella reached over and wrapped her cool, long fingers around her sister’s forearm and squeezed gently but firmly. It was a warning to keep her mouth shut, and even though Seraphina desperately wanted to defend herself, she bit down on her tongue in order to do as suggested.
“Are you arguing with the will, Mr. Brown?” Earl asked coolly, leaning against the leather back of his chair and raising an eyebrow.
“I just don’t understand it, that’s all,” Alan said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t need to understand it,” Earl said and then looked away, entirely dismissing any concern Alan had about the fairness of the will. “The last bit of the will also needs to be discussed before you are all free to leave, which is just what Ken wanted done with the hockey team the Newport Beach Seagulls.”
There was a heavy silence that suddenly filled the room, and Seraphina noticed that even Ryan seemed to stand up straighter at the new topic.
“Ken wanted to keep the team in the family,” Earl said. “I talked to him regarding the matter just after the end of the last season, in April. If he changed his mind, he didn’t mention it whatsoever or change his will. Having said that, he wanted a specific person in the family to run the team after his death, including all the managerial duties such as signing and trading players, salaries, and the like. And that person is you, Seraphina.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly ajar, in complete disbelief at what she had just heard. Maybe she made a mistake. Maybe he really said Katella’s name and not hers. Or maybe, like everything else, they split the team. Seraphina looked at her sister, wondering if she was in as much shock as Seraphina was. But on her sister’s face was a knowing smile, as though she was somehow aware of what would happen.
“Now, if you truly think you can’t handle it, Seraphina,” Earl continued, “then you can choose to sell the team. Instead of being divided between you and your sister, however, the income would be split into fours, so that you, Katella, and your uncles would get an even amount. If you kept the team, you would get your own salary, and the revenue from the franchise would be split between just you and your sister.”
When he finished, he crossed his forearms over his desk and gave her an expectant look. Seraphina was only focused on his glasses, unable to comprehend how they hadn’t slid off just yet.
Using the same hand she had just employed to calm her sister down, Katella nudged her sister.
He wanted an answer now?
“How long do I have to make up my mind?’ she asked, and she hated to admit it, but she sounded doubtful, worried. She hated that she sounded this way in front of her uncles even more.
“Now would be best,” Earl said, once again leaning back in his chair as he stretched out his arms in front of him. “Or, if not now, as soon as possible. The season is about to start in a manner of weeks, and correct me if I’m wrong, but preseason starts in five days. The team needs to know if it’s going to play with you as the owner now because without an owner, the team is in limbo. Do you understand what I am saying?”
Seraphina knew Earl James wasn’t trying to be condescending, but it certainly felt like a dig at her incompetence of the situation she had just been thrust into.
“May I take a few minutes to talk to my sister?” Seraphina asked.
Earl looked like he wanted to say no. He seemed to be in a rush to finalize everything, but he forced himself to nod.
Katella followed Seraphina into the lobby and then into the parking lot.
“What do I do?” she asked once she knew it was only the two of them. “I don’t understand this, Kat. Why would Papa do this? I have absolutely no experience with this. I majored in English, for crying out loud. English. I can’t handle this. But I don’t want to sell the team and see Alan and Ryan get a fourth of the money either.” She placed her hands on her sides helplessly. “I don’t know what to do, Kat. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Can I just say s
omething?” she asked. Seraphina couldn’t find her voice so she merely nodded. “Papa came to me to discuss this last April. I was one of his witnesses to sign everything.”
“Wait, so you’re not mad?” Seraphina asked. “About me, getting the team over you?”
“It was always going to go to you, Sera,” Katella reassured her sister. “Papa knew that I had my own business to worry about, and me and Matt are getting more serious. I’m the one who couldn’t handle getting the team, even if it was split between the two of us.”
“But why me?” Seraphina said.
“You two had discussions about the team, didn’t you?” Katella pointed out. “He valued your opinion. Sera, he believed that you could handle this. He believed that you could do this. Papa had faith in you. And you know that that means something. Look at what he gave Alan and Ryan, and those are his sons. He even made it a requirement that they get tested before they can accumulate any money. He lost faith in his own children. Just because you’re young and inexperienced doesn’t mean you can’t do it. It just means it’s going to take you longer to be good at it. But you will be good at it. Papa wouldn’t put you under this pressure, wouldn’t give you an entire hockey franchise if he didn’t think you’d do well.”
“Why do you think he made it so that if I sold it, everyone got an equal amount?” The question was meek coming out of her mouth.
Katella shrugged her shoulders and looked away. “I have no idea,” she said. “Maybe because you selling the team would be like you not having faith in yourself, and if you don’t have faith in yourself then punish Alan and Ryan doesn’t really mean anything anymore. Selling the team is a shortcut – why do you think Alan wants to sell everything right away? He just wants the fast cash. And yeah, selling this team would mean that everyone would be set for life – we wouldn’t have to work. But, I don’t know, as lame as it sounds, it means we get a boring though financially-stable life. Papa started this team. He didn’t want to sell it to get quick money. He didn’t care about that. He was comfortable. He wanted to keep his dream alive no matter what. God, I sound like an afterschool special, don’t I?”
Seraphina chuckled, nodding her head. “Yes, you do,” she murmured. “But it’s working. Do you really I can do it?”
Katella placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders and locked eyes with her. “In all honesty Sera, I think you can do whatever you want to do,” she answered. “And I think Papa thought the same thing.”
Seraphina felt Katella release her, felt her eyes look at the dull concrete underneath her feet before nodding once, twice, three times, before looking up. “Okay,” she said in a quiet voice. “Okay, we can go back inside.”
Katella followed her younger sister back into Mr. James’s office.
“Well?” he inquired once the door was once again shut.
Seraphina noticed the different faces looking at her. Alan looked both pissed off and hopeful that Seraphina would sell. Henry offered her a small smile, his grey eyes offering more support than she expected. She couldn’t actually read the look on Simon’s face, but he seemed indifferent despite the calm look on his face. And Ryan was looking out the window, behind Earl’s desk. Seraphina wasn’t sure if he cared about the outcome of this anymore or not.
“I’m going to keep the team,” she said. “I don’t want to sell.”
And as she spoke the words, she realized that they were true.
5. Seraphina barely had time to take a sip of her heavily creamed-and-sugared coffee before the doorbell rang. It was the next morning, and Katella was in the shower, preparing for another day of work despite Seraphina’s suggestion that she take some time off to cope with Papa’s death. But Katella was weird in the way she handled her grief; maybe it had to do with the fact that she was the oldest of the two, but she seemed to prefer to bare her pain by herself, alone, and throw herself into other activities rather than allow herself a moment to be sad or ask people for support. Seraphina wished Katella didn’t try to be strong all the time.
In merely a loose t-shirt and short shorts, Seraphina stood on her toes in order to see who was outside, calling on the sisters at such an awful seven thirty hour. Frowning in recognition, she rolled her feet back down and opened the door with her free hand, wondering just what Detective Christopher Williams of the Newport Beach Police Department wanted.
“Sorry for the early hour,” he said with a sheepish smile. Seraphina herself wasn’t immune to this smile, and she was certain that the thirty or so year old detective employed it for his benefit. “But I have a couple more follow up questions, if you don’t mind.” With his blue eyes, he took in the sight of Seraphina, realized his mistake, and forced them back to her face, causing both to flush. “Right, may I come in?”
“Sure.”
Seraphina led him to the dining room before excusing herself to change into something more appropriate. Having a crush on the police detective wasn’t exactly part of the plan, and it wasn’t as though Seraphina actually expected anything to come from it, but it was a nice distraction during those lonely moments just before she went to sleep where her eyes were closed, her body exhausted, but her mind cruel and awake, thinking and overanalyzing everything she should have, could have, would have done to save her grandfather. Though such criticisms still existed, she wasn’t as plagued by them as she had been before meeting Christopher Williams.
For a police detective, Christopher Williams was handsome, with curly black hair and those sea-blue eyes. Whenever he smiled, a dimple popped in his left cheek, and he had this way of making whomever it was that he was talking to feel safe. Or maybe that was just Seraphina. He wasn’t too tall, barely five foot nine, and though he didn’t have that much muscle on him, he was compact, looking as though he could hold his own in a fight even if his opponent was bigger and stronger than he was. Today, he wore a blue long-sleeved shirt – just setting his blue eyes off even more than they did on their own – and grey slacks, with recently polished black loafers. Very professional, indeed.
Seraphina figured the detective might want to talk to herself and her sister, so Seraphina coaxed Katella out of the shower, and after a few minutes of throwing on conservative clothing, the two sisters joined the detective in the dining room.
“Would you like some coffee, detective?” Katella asked. She had always been a good hostess, even when the two sisters were young and threw sleepovers. In fact, Katella was quite a pro at making coffee and she didn’t even drink the stuff.
“Yes please,” he said, nodding. His eyes rolled up to the high ceiling and then to the wall before following the hallway out and into the living room. “Nice digs you got here.”
“Oh,” Seraphina said, taking a seat across from the detective. She felt her face flush, but this time, for a different reason. She always got uncomfortable when people noticed and mentioned the fact that she could afford to be nicer things than women her age, feeling as though perhaps she didn’t deserve such an extravagance at such a young age. Of course, a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her grandfather would remind her that both she and her sister had gone through more than other kids their age. “Yeah, thanks. It was a gift.”
“Your grandfather must have really loved you guys,” Christopher said more to himself then thanked Katella once she handed him the black coffee.
“We were all he had,” Katella said as she sat next to her sister with own glass of orange juice. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, as though she saw Christopher’s words as some sort of criticism against the sisters.
“You both must have been close to him.”
“We were.”
Seraphina watched as he took a long gulp of coffee, surprised that he didn’t shrink back at the heat. Maybe he was used to drinking hot liquids and his tongue developed a blister from it or something.
“This is some good coffee,” he said once he finished. “Wow. I’m impressed.”
“Detective Williams” –
“Chris,” the de
tective corrected Katella.
Seraphina watched as her sister forced a smile. “Chris. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to be at work soon in order to go over proposed idea for this season’s events. Is there any way we could get right to it?”
“So the Gulls are going to play this season?” Chris asked, directing the question at Seraphina rather than Katella. “Awesome. I love the Gulls.” He looked back at the older sister and nodded his head. “Of course, Ms. Hanson. Again, I apologize for the intrusion. We’ve gone through the evidence at the office – you can actually go in it and use it or whatever you were planning to do with it, just so you know – and had a few more questions for the two of you.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small flip notebook with a pen attached through the spiral. “The first is a basic question; I’m sure you’ve seen it in the crime shows on television. Did you grandfather have any enemies?”
“No,” both sisters replied at the same time.
“Our grandfather was tough but fair,” Katella explained.
“People maybe didn’t agree with everything he said or every decision he made, but they respected him,” Seraphina added.
Christopher nodded as he took notes. When he finished, he looked up at the two of them, his left hand curled into a fist, resting on his hip. “Tell me about these selling rumors,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” Katella murmured.
“The team,” Chris said. “There were a couple of stories that ran in the Orange County Register, a couple of interviews on ESPN, talking about how there were rumors your grandfather was planning to sell the team. Were these true?”
Both girls were silent for a moment, both thinking if they remembered him possibly mentioning selling the team in passing.
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