The last time he had company over, I’d been late getting home due to bad weather. To say my father wasn’t too pleased was a very big understatement. When our guest, a man I didn’t even dare look at, left an hour later, my father taught me one of his famous lessons about being on time. I wasn’t able to eat for a week with a swollen jaw and a sprained wrist; he had the fun part of explaining to the school why I had to miss nearly two weeks because of his abuse.
After drying my face, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My gray eyes looked back me, filled with so much hurt and pain that even they begged me to end it all.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I made my way back downstairs. I made sure to increase the heaviness of my steps so my father would know I was coming. I found him and our guest in the kitchen, both sitting at the table. A number of papers and folders were spread out across it.
“Harvey, this is my daughter, Scarlett,” he said, his voice filled with fake love.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said, glancing, but not meeting, the man’s eyes.
“You too,” the man said. His eyes didn’t take long to look me over. “I bet you look like your mother.”
“The spitting image of her,” Father said. The same thing he always said when the topic of my mother was brought up. “Too bad she didn’t want anything to do with our daughter. Such a shame.”
I had yet to figure out if it was a truth or a lie. I had to assume I looked like Mom, since I didn’t look anything like him.
“Her loss,” he sighed, like he really did feel sorry for her. I stood with my back pressing against the counter, watching the two men. I knew the drill; I was to listen but not to interact.
“Okay, so according the papers that were filed in case something happened to Lisa, all of her assets were to go to Scarlett, once she turns of age,” the man said. “The house is to be sold, and the profit is to be set into an account for Miss Adams.”
“Yes, I know all of that,” my father said, eyeing me as the words sank in.
I knew that my aunt had things in place in case she passed away, so it didn’t come as a surprise to me. She was always one or two steps ahead.
“It says, clearly, that you are not to touch any of the money,” the man said, raising an eyebrow at my father.
“Gambling issues.” He laughed it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “As long as I don’t have access to the money, I won’t touch it.”
“Good, because this money is going into an escrow account and cannot be touched by anyone but your daughter. Now, if you want any of her belongings, I’d advise you to take this week to get them into a storage unit until you’re ready to sort through what you want to keep or get rid of. The house will be put on the market as early as the end of the month.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “I’ll get that taken care of right away.”
“Then I just need you both to sign these papers so I can make sure everything is set up. The funds will stay in escrow until Miss Adams proves who she is at the bank and releases the funds. Now, if something were to happen to her, that money is to be donated to a number of shelters in the area.”
“Of course, Lisa would put that clause in there,” my father said with an eye roll. “My sister always was a matter-of-fact person about knowing where everything was and where it went in any circumstance.”
“She was a sweet lady,” Harvey said with a tight smile. “Oh, Alan, I need a copy of your ID, if you will.”
“Okay. Scarlett?”
“I’d like to go over everything with her that I just did with you. Protocol.”
“Fine,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair, displeasure rolling off of him in waves.
“I heard everything,” I said quietly, taking a seat at the table.
“Yes, but she also left this for you. It’s for your eyes only,” Harvey stated, pushing a letter towards me. “She was adamant that your father didn’t see it. Now, she didn’t tell me why, but I have a good enough inkling. I’d hide it somewhere before he comes back down here.”
With wide, surprised eyes, I quickly stashed the letter in the drawer underneath the hot pads. My father never looked in there. I returned to the table right as he came thumping back down and Harvey pushed a pen and piece of paper towards me, telling me where to sign.
My heart was in my throat as my father rushed to finish everything up. Within minutes, Harvey had all of his papers back in a nice pile and into a brown suitcase. He gave me a small smile before bidding goodbye.
The front door had hardly shut before he was in my face. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“He just went over everything to make sure I understood,” I answered, my voice a pitch higher as he stood in my space. My hands were clenched at my sides, my breath heavy. “I promise. He just had to make sure I understood that I couldn’t touch the money until I turn eighteen.”
“I don’t believe you. Or him,” he hissed. He slapped my cheek, my head turning from the force. “Now, tell me what he wanted.”
“I told you, sir,” I whimpered, knowing better than to touch my stinging cheek.
