Stepping through big glass doors and into the lobby, I suck in the overly-conditioned air. It’s freezing in here. The contrast against the September heat is stark, raising goosebumps on my arms.
A receptionist eyes me warily from a desk to the side. He pushes his hair back on his forehead. “Can I help you?”
“Um, yes. I have a meeting with Ms. Rubio?” I hate that I phrase it like a question. “With Rubio, Singh, and Balan.” There. At least that part didn’t come out like a question.
“You’ll want the twenty-fifth floor.” He gestures toward the elevators.
“Thanks.” I step into the elevator and push the button.
Just as the doors are about to close, a man rushes forward. Thinking I’ll do the nice thing, I push the “door open” button.
He slides into the elevator with a sheepish grin. “Thanks!”
“No problem.”
He moves to the button panel, but pauses when he sees the 25 is already lit. “Looks like we’re going to the same place.”
I give him my best noncommittal smile. He seems nice enough, but I’m not here to make friends. I’m too nervous. On the bright side, his lack of professional polish is similar to mine—he’s in jeans and tennis shoes. His plaid, flannel shirt looks far too warm for the weather outside. Then again, it’s about right for this insane air conditioning.
He gestures me forward when the elevator doors open to spit us out on the twenty-fifth floor. Two men are standing in the comfortable waiting room. Immediately, I recognize my cousin Derick. He stands at over six feet tall, and he’s always been lanky. His build apparently hasn’t changed in the ten years since I last saw him. The guy next to him must be his brother, Crane. He’s thin like Derick, but not quite as tall.
The two of them shoot me a dirty look as soon as I step forward.
“Uh…hi.” I offer them a finger wave. They don’t wave back, and instead nod greetings at the guy behind me. Suddenly, I realize that flannel plaid guy from the elevator is the third brother. I turn around. “Ford? Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
His smile is tight, forced. “No problem, I get that a lot.”
Well. That’s depressing. I clear my throat. “Um, so you guys are here for Great-Aunt Vivienne?”
“Yep.” Derick sighs like he’s bored.
I’d offer condolences, but I don’t get the sense that any of my cousins are particularly broken up about Great-Aunt Vivienne’s death.
“Is Paul coming?” Crane asks.
I give a start. “I don’t know.”
He gives me a strange look.
I shrug. “I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
Several years, in fact. When my parents ghosted me at my wedding in favor of attending Paul’s soccer scrimmage—not even an actual game—I stopped trying. I thought they might reach out after a couple of weeks, but no. Then I thought they’d reach out at Thanksgiving. Also no. And not at Christmas—not even an unsigned card.
I’d been hurt, but Kyle was my rock, promising me that we’d make our own family and we’d make our own fun.
A few months later, he died while riding his motorcycle, and his promises were broken.
I should’ve made an effort to get closer to Great-Aunt Vivienne. I think she actually cared about me.
I need a distraction from my self-pity. I glance around the crisp waiting room, with its neutral-toned sofas and the generic, abstract art on the walls.
A door to the side of the room opens, and a short, red-haired woman steps through it. “Ah, it looks like everyone’s here. I’m Gemma Rubio. Please, come in. There’s a pitcher of water here on the table, but can I have my assistant get you anything else? Coffee, soda…?”
We all murmur that we’re fine, thanks, as we follow Ms. Rubio into the small conference room. The table seats eight, three on each side, plus one at either end. My cousins take three chairs on one side. I sit opposite them, feeling like we’re pitted against each other for some reason.
“Is everyone ready?” Ms. Rubio pours herself a glass of water. When we all nod and shrug, she opens a file folder on the table in front of her. “All right, let’s do this.”
Ms. Rubio reads the will aloud, going through a bunch of investment accounts and how they’ll be divided among Vivienne’s grandnephews, my cousins. I’m not mentioned, and that’s fine. They knew her better than I did, from what I understand. They were allowed to visit her and spend time with her.
