An older man, long gone gray with a wrinkled face and a sharp suit walked through the door and toward the front of the table. His arrival had my brother hesitating. He returned to his chair but glared at Ian as we walked to the free seats next to Sal. Ian dropped next to my stepfather, who frowned at him. Point for my husband for being the buffer.
“Now that we’re all here…” continued the newcomer when he stood at the head of the table. He nodded to Ian. “…we can begin. Mr. Turner has left instructions to deal with his personal property first, then we move on to his business interests. Any questions before we start?”
“I’d like to know who he is before we start,” my brother said, finger pointed at Ian. “Him and the two at the door. This is a private reading.”
“It’s a good thing I’m family then,” Ian replied.
Elbow on the table, he held his hand up, a tacit ask for my own. I fluttered my fingers as I did. The light twinkled through the diamonds. To sell it, he kissed the back of my hand. Red dusted my cheeks, annoyingly, but it only helped our show.
“My name’s Ian Hunter,” my husband continued. “You already know my wife, your sweet sis—”
“You’re married!” my mom gasped.
“Now that you’ve all been introduced, I’d like to play the first video Mr. Turner made to discuss his personal property,” said the lawyer.
The lights dimmed and a screen dropped behind him. Mom pouted my way. If she could have, she’d have peppered me with a million questions. I’d never kept my opinion on marriage quiet and it usually annoyed her to no end.
My father appeared on the screen, video frozen. He was wearing the same tuxedo top he’d worn to the wedding last year. I recognized the background from the reception hall, but he appeared alone.
“My solicitor would tell you I’ve made these recordings more than once,” he began without introductions when the video started. “You run out of time in the end, even when you don’t know when it’s going to happen.”
I wasn’t the only person around the table confused. My brother’s brows furrowed. He leaned closer to a cousin and whispered. Both their eyes darted to Ian. My husband’s narrowed eyes never left the screen.
“I’ve buried my wife, children who were taken from this earth too early,” my father continued. His eyes fell to his hands and he shook his head. “Some might call that payment for my own sins; an installment payment for sure, but it puts things in perspective. I want my living children to share everything I have, right down the middle.”
“She gets half!” My brother slammed his fist against the table. “He was senile, what do they call it? Not of sound mind and body.”
He hopped to his feet and pointed a shaking finger at the lawyer. The old man might have looked like he was made of paper but he didn’t even flinch. His head held up high, he kept his mouth flat.
“Mr. Turner,” he said in a measured voice, “I understand losing a father can be a very emotional even so I will forgive your outburst. My firm has acted as solicitor for the five families since before three of them died out. I’m sorry, two. Your father was The Turner; I always worked to further his interests. I can attest he was of sound mind and body when he made the most recent changes to his will.”
“I can challenge that,” my brother replied.
“Yes, you could,” the old man said matter-of-factly, “and as per your father’s instructions, anyone who challenges the validity of the will shall forfeit any and all property disbursements in the will.”
My brother’s lips quivered. The ass who’d annoyed me at the wedding leaned in close to whisper in his ear. My brother pushed him away and jumped to his feet. The muscle at the door stiffened, so did Ian next to me. His eyes followed my brother’s every move, ready to protect me. I hated how much that tickled me.
“According to the records Mr. Turner provided us, he has two children: Ewan Turner,” the lawyer motioned to my brother then his arm pointed to me, “and Emma… Hunter. You can both meet with me privately to discuss the details.”
Oh, I would do just that. Even with all the excitement and danger in the room, I’d started fantasizing about that money. Ian accusing my father of killing his family had turned my view of my father, but that he’d given me an equal share of his personal wealth bumped him back up a few points.
“I’m so glad you told me about community property,” Ian whispered to me. “So I get half, right?”
“Only income, an inheritance is a gift,” I replied.
“That’s not what you said when you tried to get half my inheritance,” he shot back.
“Did I?” I smiled innocently.
He shook his head and chuckled. My mom beamed a smile at our quick and quiet interaction, but nobody else at the table shared her feelings. If looks could kill, we’d have both been vaporized.
“Moving on to Mr. Turner’s business interests,” the lawyer said, saving me and Ian from those deadly glares for a moment, “again, he has prepared a short video to explain the disbursement of his assets, including leadership of the family.”
The lights dimmed again and an image of my father appeared on the screen. He sat behind a desk made of dark wood in a leather chair. A gray business suit had replaced the tux from the first video but he looked the same, so I couldn’t tell if he’d recorded it before or after the wedding last year.
“A man doesn’t find himself in my position without regrets, mistakes I could have fixed but didn’t,” my father said on the screen. He reached to the side and came back holding a cigar. He lit it before continuing. “In a just world, I’d split my business assets the same as I did my personal ones.”
A crack sounded near the head of the table, muffled but loud enough in the pause my father took to puff on his cigar. My brother bared his teeth and breathed heavily. The cousin next to him tried to calm him. From the wording, he had little to worry about. We didn’t live in a just world, after all.
