This was because my sister, too, had received a letter. And after some discussion at the Food Festival with Deanna and Charlie, and more discussion at Margot and Dave’s, the decision was to go.
So on Monday, Izzy called to share we would be there.
And was told our father would be there too.
Neither brother wanted us anywhere near him.
But the day after we found out he’d be there, Toby’s old Chevy was parked in the space beside the house, which had been guest parking until then and that blue Ram was in the garage.
Apparently, he didn’t want to roll up to a meeting where my father would be in an old Chevy or a yellow Ford Focus.
I didn’t care what we drove there in.
He did.
It was a man thing.
So I also kept my mouth shut.
I again kept my mouth shut when I got home the day before and there were three boxes on the dining room table.
“Those’re from Margot,” Toby grunted (incidentally, the “uneasy” to “crabby” scale of Gamble Brothers’ moods deteriorated as Friday got closer).
In one box was a dress from Saks, red, cross body, had a collar that was short on one side but dripped low to a lapel on the other and had long sleeves with deep cuffs. It also had a somewhat low neckline.
It was a feminine, sexy version of a power suit.
The next box was from Neimans, and in it was a wicked cool, zebra print clutch with a handle.
The last box was from Nordstrom, and in it was a pair of shoes with red spike heels, black, ultra-thin straps with little silver balls on the ends that wound around my ankles, and just the toe was covered, mostly with crystal clear plastic with a diamond of zebra print at the toe.
They were sexy as fuck, stylish as hell and totally me.
So the message was clear.
Toby was not rolling up, delivering his woman to the meeting in anything but a badass, expensive truck, and Margot was not allowing me to go in there without armor.
I didn’t fight that either.
It was their way of taking care of family.
She’d tried to do the same thing with Izzy, but surprisingly, Johnny had put his foot down about Iz going to the meeting in some dress that was one of his favorites and the nude Louboutins he’d bought her.
Knock me over with a feather that Johnny would demand to have a say in Izzy’s Estranged Grandma’s Last Will and Testament Reading Outfit.
But it was a big deal to him for some reason.
Margot advised her to do what made Johnny feel less edgy and told her to keep what she’d bought her and just wear it whenever.
I partially understood all of this from a relatively deep perspective, what with Sierra’s joyful visit just fading from memory.
And I was finding I needed to stealthily soothe Toby and tread carefully, rather than the other way around.
Because what I did not understand was what it was like to be a Gamble Brother and know what they knew about what our father did to our mother during their marriage, and what she and her girls endured after it, all this in a time they did not know us and thus could do dick about it.
But it hurt us. It marked us. It hurt our mother. And marked her.
And that was the crux of the situation.
It was highly unlikely our dad was going to pull anything in an attorney’s office.
But honest to Christ, if this was another time, I had no doubt the men would go in wearing steel, immediately throw down a glove, and then swords would be drawn.
This wasn’t caveman shit.
This was something else entirely.
And since I didn’t have a penis or Gamble blood in my veins, I did not entirely understand it.
But I was beginning to understand Toby’s explanation of active and passive protection and the struggle to be passive when they wanted desperately to be active.
They could not walk in there and tear him apart.
And it was driving them crazy.
“Call me the minute you get back on the road,” Margot ordered in my ear after I shared we’d made it to the offices.
Her voice sounded stronger than it had in weeks.
“I will, Margot. Promise.”
“How’s Tobias?”
She was whispering even though Toby couldn’t hear her.
I turned and watched Toby throw his door open so hard it was a wonder it didn’t disconnect and fly across the parking lot.
“Not good,” I whispered back after he’d angled out and slammed it with such force the whole truck shook.
I did not even think of opening my own door. His head might explode.
“I gotta go,” I told her. “Call you as soon as we’re on the road. And by the way, I look awesome. Love you.”
“Love you too, Adeline.”
We disconnected just as Toby tore open my door.
I looked into his eyes. “I’m okay, baby.”
He said nothing. He just took my hand and helped me down.
He slammed my door after I cleared it, and his fingers around mine almost hurt as he forged us toward the doors to the office building. Though he did not walk fast. Wherever he was at in his head, he had a mind to me in a dress and heels.
He opened the door for me and I went from the warm Kentucky sun into the cool modulated air of a very nice foyer.
As I knew, since my sister had texted, Johnny and Izzy were there.
I then understood the dress.
Navy. Short sleeves. A sheer panel above her breasts. One above her knees. It fit her perfectly, was cute, smart and professional with a hint of sexy.
Totally Izzy.
It was the lipstick red of the soles of her shoes, the diamonds at her throat and ears and her huge engagement ring that was in your face.
Johnny was wearing a dark-blue suit, light-blue shirt, no tie.
He looked handsome.
Toby was wearing a black suit, smoke-gray shirt, no tie.
He looked hot.
The two brothers glowered at each other then Johnny moved to hit the button on the elevator.
Izzy gave big eyes to me.
I reached out and took her hand.
We held on.
Johnny returned and took his woman’s other hand then he reached out and clasped Toby around the back of the neck. Toby did the same thing to Johnny.
We were in a huddle.
It was sweet, cute and made me want to start laughing and burst out crying, both at the same time.
Man, I wished my mother could have seen that.
“You can back out or walk out, anytime,” Johnny rumbled.
“We’re fine, honey,” Izzy said softly.
Johnny scowled at her.
The elevator dinged.
We got in it.
Once we hit the attorney’s offices, it wasn’t lost on any of us our grandmother died with money. Martin, Sandberg and Deats were no slouches, my bosses had it going on. My reception desk and the area around it kicked ass. I loved working there, and not because there wasn’t a smock in sight.
But just the bouquet of fresh flowers that adorned the long thin table under the firm masthead in that reception area probably cost as much as all the flowers for Johnny and Izzy’s wedding.
After we shared we were there with the receptionist, it didn’t take long for an elegant, slim man to come out and tell us he was taking us back.
Thankfully, as he walked us back through more fresh flowers, glistening wood and glassed in offices, he stated, “We’re aware there’s been a long-standing estrangement between Mr. Aubrey and his daughters that was a result of Mr. Aubrey’s treatment of his wife who has passed.” Pause. “Truly sorry for your loss.” Pause. “We hope we’ve arranged things so this can go quickly, smoothly and as comfortably for you all as a situation like this can. To that end, Mr. Aubrey and his wife have been asked to arrive earlier and are here. They’ll be seated across the room from your party.”
I shot Iz a relieved look.
>
She gave it back.
The men still weren’t feeling it.
“They’ve also been asked not to approach you, unless you invite it,” the man finished.
“Obliged,” Johnny grunted.
Toby said nothing.
Ten more feet.
And it happened.
The windows to the conference room we’d be using were right at our sides.
I knew it was the room we’d be using because I looked that way.
And he was standing, tall, straight, much older.
So handsome.
Even now.
By his side was a slim, and like Sierra, willowy woman with shining brunette hair, apparently age-appropriate to him, which was a shocker, so she probably dyed that hair.
She was not in a power suit or a cute, sexy, professional dress that looked tailored for her.
She looked like a chic hippie in a pretty rosy-pink lace dress with a tiered skirt, dangly earrings and lots of necklaces and bracelets.
My mother would have worn that outfit.
If she could have afforded it.
Her eyes came to the windows and her face paled.
So his eyes came to the windows.
They hit Izzy and shifted to me.
And they filled with sorrow as his expression filled with longing.
“Oh God,” I whispered.
Iz saw it too, I knew it because I heard her whimper.
It was a wonder we didn’t get whiplash with how fast Johnny and Toby put a halt to our movement.
“Can they do this separate from him?” Johnny demanded to know.
“I’m sorry, the only stipulation Mrs. Aubrey included was that her will could not be read, or enforced, unless all three parties who stood to inherit were in attendance at the reading,” the elegant man replied.
And he did sound sorry.
“Goddamn shit,” Toby cursed under his breath.
I squeezed his hand tight. “We’re good.”
He glowered at me.
“We’re good, honey,” I lied.
“Eliza?” Johnny prompted.
“I’m okay, häschen.”
Toby looked to the elegant man, who had probably introduced himself, but I hadn’t caught it.
“Let’s get this done,” he ground out.
The man nodded and moved us to the door.
Then we were in.
“Barry, all the parties are here. Eliza and Adeline Forrester and their fiancés, Johnathon and Tobias Gamble.”
“Right,” an older, less slender, no less elegant man said.
He was positioned in the middle at the long side of the conference table with another, much younger man sitting next to him.
“Thanks, Jason,” Barry went on to our guy, getting up and coming our way, hand held out while Jason left the room. “Eliza, Adeline. Barry Frischman.”
“Sir,” Izzy said, shaking.
I just shook.
Both of us, I noticed, were avoiding looking down the table.
“Gentlemen,” he nodded to Johnny and Toby.
He got chin lifts.
“Please take your seats. This won’t take long,” he bid.
Four, rolling swivel chairs were arranged for us, crowded around the narrow end of the table.
Toby held my seat as I sat.
Johnny held Izzy’s.
They sat.
Barry turned and looked down at the young man at his side. “Please make note all parties are here, Andrew. And let’s get started.”
He also took his seat.
Toby reached out for my hand.
I held on tightly.
And I kept my eyes glued firmly to Barry Frischman.
“With sensitivity to time and circumstances, I’ll just get down to it,” Barry declared. He put on some reading glasses, picked up a piece of paper and launched in, “I, Helena June Aubrey, residing at twelve Doncaster Way, Carlisle, Kentucky, declare this to be my Will and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.”
I reached out to Izzy who was seated beside me.
We also held hands.
Tightly.
It didn’t last long.
She gave everything she had, and there was a lot, to Harlan “Harley” Aubrey, our father.
Except for two million dollars, which the estate would pay inheritance taxes on, and it would be split equally between Eliza Anne Forrester Aubrey and Adeline June Forrester Aubrey.
Our true legal names.
Mom had never been able to divorce Dad nor had she had the money to affect a name change for any of us.
Like Lance Gamble, she’d died officially married.
I hadn’t heard those names in years.
And finally, there was the kicker.
A further three million dollars was bequeathed. Money that would be held in trust with Adeline June Forrester Aubrey as executor and given to Brooklyn True Flynn on his twenty-fifth birthday.
My hands were spasming in both Toby’s and Izzy’s.
Toby held strong.
Izzy’s was rippling right back.
“And that’s it,” Barry declared, dropping the papers and taking off his glasses to look side to side. “Our firm, as executor, will make all arrangements. This should be concluded by the end of next week.”
He stood but did it with his eyes Izzy and my way.
“June asked me, with respect, to request of you, also with respect, to allow your father a moment of your time. It was June’s wish, and obviously mine that you know if this is something you feel you cannot do, you may leave at your convenience. Also, if you’d like to stay, Jason can take the necessary information from you now so that we can arrange for the transfers and finalize setting up the trust for Brooklyn. If you need to be on your way, we’ll phone you. Now,” he shoved his chin in his throat, glanced at the man who had been sitting next to him, and finished on a mutter, “we’ll take our leave.”
With that, the other guy got up and they started taking their leave.
Apparently, we were going to take our leave too, because Toby pulling me from my chair and Johnny pulling Iz from hers tore our hands apart.
“Please don’t.”
A woman’s voice. Soft. Imploring.
The wife.
God, God, God.
“Those were my words,” Johnny returned.
“Honey,” Iz said softly.
“Let them go, Fonda.”
Our dad.
God, God, God.
His voice.
Even speaking, it was like a song.
I’d always so totally got how Mom fell and did it hard.
Totally.
Toby started tugging me to the door.
“We have no children,” the woman called urgently. “He’s arranged to leave you everything too.”
My head turned to look at her.
“Except for, um . . . what he’s leaving to me,” she finished.
God, God, shit.
Johnny was out the door, dragging Iz behind him. My sister was almost through it, and we were on their heels.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped dead, Toby’s arm reaching both our arms long because he didn’t until he couldn’t keep going because I was dug in.
Izzy was dug in too.
I looked to him.
My father.
The man I once called Daddy, and sometimes when he was in the mood to deserve it, did it happily.
“It haunted me, tortured me, what I did to my Daphne.” He shook his head. “You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. I got help. You don’t care about that either. And you shouldn’t. I left you alone. I was in no state to be with you girls and I thought you were better off without me. Daphne would take care of you. Daphne lived for you girls. I learned later, when I went looking for her, I learned I shouldn’t have. She was . . .” he swallowed.
“When she passed, it tore him apart,” the woman put in.
“Adeline,” Toby growled, pulling o
n my hand.
“I know you can’t forgive me, I’m not going to ask. I can’t ask her—” His voice got lost in being choked. “I no longer can ask her to forgive me,” he forced out. Then anguish filled his face. “Jesus Christ, you both look just like her. Just like her. She was so . . . I’m just glad for Daphne you look just like her and got nothing from me.”
“Adeline,” Toby snarled, and an equally scary warning noise was coming from Johnny.
The woman, Fonda, held up her hand our way.
“Thank you,” she said. She put that hand to her belly. “Thank you for letting him say those things.”
With that, I was pulled out of the room.
“He apologized,” Toby barked into the cab.
“Oh my,” Margot said through the dash.
I did not call Margot when we were on the road.
Toby did.
Through his truck.
“Said he got help,” Toby went on.
“This sounds . . . not bad,” Dave, since Margot was on speakerphone so he could listen in, shared carefully.
“Got balls to even look at ’em,” Toby ground out.
“Tobias—” Margot started to chide.
“Yeah, sorry I beat the shit outta your mom. Sorry you saw her all fucked up. Sorry your sister actually saw me do that shit. Sorry you lived without or made do for, I don’t know, basically you’re whole fuckin’ life. I got help. All good now. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to forgive me. My mom just left you money and I’m gonna do that too, so I’ll feel better even though I can’t erase warmed up soup and bullies bein’ assholes at school and all the other shit you had to eat because of me,” Toby said sarcastically ending on a very not sarcastic, “The manipulative fuck.”
No one said anything.
Until Dave did.
“Son, maybe best you come right to us when you get back to Matlock.”
“I’ll get that, David,” Margot could be heard murmuring as well as a phone ringing in the background, “Probably Eliza. Or Johnathon.”
“Tobe,” David called. “Did you hear me?”
“We gotta get Brooklyn from Deanna and Charlie,” Toby reminded him.
“If Deanna and Charlie want to come over too, they’re welcome, as always,” Dave replied.
“Right.”
“See you in coupla hours, son.”
“Later, Dave,” Toby said.
“’Bye, Dave,” I said.
“Goodbye, child.”
Toby disconnected us.
I gave him time.
The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil Series Book 2) Page 34
